The Realistic Fiction Incident

I explained realistic fiction to my 3rd grade class yesterday. We wrote down the titles of the two stories we had recently read under the 'realistic fiction' category on our genre list. I explained realistic fiction twice this morning, once in the classroom and once in the library. In a 15 minute time period in the library, I managed to help 85% of my students find a realistic fiction book appropriate for their reading level, all while dancing around the hovering parent who, for whatever reason, spent THREE AND A HALF HOURS with my class this morning, while loudly pointing out all of my mistakes. Of which I made many.

Anyways.

I watched my class check out their realistic fiction books. When we got back, I asked them to put their realistic fiction books in their desks. During workshop, I met with 20 of the 25 to confirm their realistic fiction book choices. During SSR, they read their realistic fiction books.

At the end of the day, I meet with the a few more kids to confirm their realistic fiction book choices. I call the very last kid. In a nice loud voice, he looks at me and asks "What's realistic fiction?".

I literally slapped my hand against my forehead and walked away.

Cuz really, what else could I do?

At that moment, I decided my life is a work of realistic fiction. Who spends their whole day with eight year olds, and spends their evenings with a 3 year old? Who goes to Jazzsercise 4-6 times a week? Who drinks tepid water out of plastic Starbucks cups? Who vacuums her car only to have it covered in a fine layer of crumbs hours later? Who downloads music by an artist named Scooter? Who has more Internet friends than real life friends? Who doesn't call their mother? Who can only find time to read while brushing her teeth?

A character in a book, that's who. It most certainly can't be me!