They open up their binders and clean out anything related to last week's reading. All of my students just took the final exam on that unit, so they don't need all the study guides, worksheets, and story notes that clutter up their lives. We recycle everything except one paper of their choosing. They roll the paper into balls and put the paper balls on their desks.
They figure I'm going to let them shoot baskets into the recycle bin. They are so wrong.
I divide the class in half and have them line up along opposite walls. I explain the rules about paper being fair game as long as no one crosses the center line through the room. And then ... we throw. Paper "snowballs" are flying all over the place. I kick them back into play when they roll under my desk. As long as no one gets hurt, they can shoot at each other for a full minute.
No one gets hurt but me. I take a direct hit to the collar bone near my throat and bust out laughing. The horrified face of the student who fired the missile is enough to crack me up even more. Maybe she whipped at me on purpose and maybe she didn't, but it's still hilarious.
Once the energy is spent, we all get down to business. Journals are distributed and writing happens (for some more than others). It's okay. It's day one of the assignment, and we'll put the stories aside for another day or two and then attack them anew before the long break. By the end of the week, the energy level will be high again, walls will be crawled again, and maybe we'll be ready to toss a few more "snowballs" for old times sake.
