Fifth Graders Discuss Taxes

I have never been so excited to talk about taxes.

That is the focus of the new social studies unit we just started. As an intro to the unit, I gave the kids a pre-quiz to see what they already know about taxes.  I want to give the kids pre-quizzes for everything now.

Below I have transcribed the questions and the most interesting/ amusing of the answers, plus occasional editor's commentary.

Who has to pay taxes?

• The people who pay taxes are your parents and older sisters.
• A person who lives by themselves and if you buy a bed. 
• People who work or for instances moms and dads. Maybe someone who lives alone and has a job. [I think the word you are looking for here is "adults."]
• The common people who work and have houses. Rich people also have to pay taxes but they get less money to pay.
• Our parents pay taxes when they buy us things.

What are taxes used for?

• Taxes are used for the government to fix problems about so and so. 

Are taxes good or bad?

• I think that taxes are bad because nobody would want to pay an extra $2.83 for a $10 skirt. [This came from a boy/ aspiring football player who as far as I can tell has never bought a skirt, sales tax or no, but hey, way to reject heteronormativity, kid!]
• They can be bad if you don't pay them. The ISS can hunt you down. When you don't pay you get threatening messages to pay the governor. It is not optional.

What have you heard adults you know say about taxes?

• "You are too young to know about taxes."
• I have heard my dad say that when he has to pay for taxes they are too much. Also "OMG somebody help me."
• I've heard them say that Deval Patrick is going to raise I think it was income tax. [ For you non-Massachusettsans (wow, lord, is that the word for people who live in Massachusetts?), that is 100% correct. I just put this here so you could be duly impressed with this fifth grader.)
• "Oh, we have to pay taxes."
• Adults around me say that "geese my taxes are due." [I cannot stop laughing out loud at this. Is anyone else picturing a menacing human-size goose IRS agent knocking on the door? Or maybe a man in a park talking to some geese about his financial troubles? "Geese, you just don't understand."]

What questions do you have about taxes?

• Why doesn't upper class pay more?
• Can kids do taxes? [Remember, kids, stay safe and don't do taxes.]

Then of course, there's the not funny part. Several kids wrote things like "why do you lose your house if you don't pay taxes?" A few kids said:

• My mom says it is good because that money people pay the government gives her money or coupons I think and it's helpful.
• [Adults I know know say] That taxes goes to them because they don't work.
• Taxes are good because it helps adults pay for what they don't have the money to buy.

I'm both intrigued and a little nervous about the conversations we are going to have, given that many kids wrote things in the vein of "taxes are bad, why do we have to give away our money?" while other kids, like those above, clearly know themselves to be the recipients of welfare. 

... Or maybe my fifth graders can solve the fundamental and seemingly intractable disagreements from which our nation's current political polarization stems. 

I will keep you updated.

Scenes They Don't Show in the Teacher Recruitment Videos

Today I had to be an authority figure in the midst of the worst vomit situation I've ever witnessed. That's all I can say about that. That's all I can say.

For real. It's invisible.

Sometimes I have trouble telling whether I’m awake or not. This is an actual problem that I have.

Since I was a kid I’ve had weird sleep/ dream issues: lucid dreaming, sleep paralysis, and something that I don’t know the name for but it goes like this: I am asleep, having a dream. I am doing normal real-life stuff, and then this thought occurs to me, either prompted by some strange event or just the subtle sensation that something is off–the thought “is this a dream?” So I pinch myself, and then I say “no, not a dream, definitely felt that,” except I didn’t actually feel the pinch, I just dream-felt it. This self-deception is airtight. I’ve heard every trick in western culture for determining whether you’re dreaming or not... And then I’ve internalized these tricks into my subconscious. It may be impossible to focus on text if you’re in a dream, but it is eminently possible to tell yourself “hey, I just focused on that text!” in a dream. 


My breakfast duty this morning was just absurd enough to raise some questions about my state of consciousness. As loyal readers will remember, I monitor first grade breakfast, which is an adorable way to start the day. Jaiden* always shows up first. Jaiden eats breakfast at home every morning and it’s always Cheerios. He and I have this running joke where I ask what he ate, and then I guess two things that aren’t Cheerios, and then I guess Cheerios. January 8 and this has not gotten old. This morning Jaiden came in walking like a Sherpa, buckling under the weight of his backpack. “What's in your backpack?” I asked (a rare departure from routine). I had to ask him to speak up twice before I understood his answer. “Sausages!” he shouted. “Your backpack is heavy because it’s full of sausages?” I asked. He said yes.

The next child to arrive was Angela. She told me it was her birthday. Then she asked if she could go give her teacher something from her backpack. “What's in your backpack?” I asked. “A penny and a raisin” she said. “You have a penny and a raisin in your backpack?” I asked. She said yes. She said it was a project and pulled out what looked like a thermos wrapped in a shopping bag. "The penny didn't do anything," she said. I asked Jaiden if his sausages were also part of an experiment but he laughed at me like I was the absurd one. Background investigation reveals that the first graders have not been assigned science projects.

Since I'm not actually the protagonist in a picture book, there was not a third child with a strange object in their backpack to complete the rule of three. But we’re not done yet. Soon after I told Angela to put away her penny and her raisin, Dalani came in. Before she even put her backpack down, she marched up to me. It was urgent. “Have you ever tried sausage muffins?” she demanded. I told her I hadn’t. She informed me that they’re great. I told her to talk to Jaiden.

The moment when I actually did have to pinch myself was when Lionel started delivering the following monologue to his classmate, which I copied down verbatim,** you’re welcome. Lionel is a seven-year-old boy, and in about two minutes he said everything a seven-year-old boy says. None of these comments on their own is at all remarkable, but smashed together like this… I want to award him The Most Seven-Year-Old Boy in America:

“One time my brother opened my brain and put trash inside and closed it back up. And my brain was full of trash. It was so gross. Today I’m going to make a whole machine. For real. It’s invisible. Frederick and me are going to make it. And I’m going to change my name to his name. Can you keep a secret? One time I saw a dog talk.”

Verbatim, people, except for a part that I missed somewhere in the middle that involved him angrily repeating “five thousand dollars! Five thousand dollars! No, real five thousand dollars!” I think that is the price to see his whole machine.

I had a really good day after that where I made fifth graders understand "The Most Dangerous Game" and then I got to show Planet Earth to third graders. The only thing better than watching a pack of 500 dolphins*** is watching a classroom of third graders watch a pack of 500 dolphins.

Whatever all that was, I never did wake up.

*Of course I always change names, but this one is a cop out. One third of the boys at my school are named some form of Jaden.

**This is the real reason I carry a clipboard.

***Actually the collective noun for dolphins is school or team. My friends recently turned me on to the best page on Wikipedia. An array of hedgehogs. A zeal of zebras. A business of ferrets. I think the collective noun for third graders is the same as for gorillas: A whoop of third graders/ gorillas.