The Currency of First Grade: Yellow #2 Pencils

There is a strange new society emerging in The Magic Tree House, like a Phoenix out of the desert sands.  It all began a week ago.  I nearly lost my mind over the strange disappearance of anything that resembled a pencil around here.  It didn’t seem to matter how many we started the day with, we were always scrounging for anything pencil-like by mid-afternoon.  If it had a sharpened point it was more valuable still.  I found myself stopping instruction frequently to wait for kids sharpen the stub-of-a thing they were working with.  Even more exasperating were the constant fights over pencil ownership.  “He took my pencil!” was heard about 93 times a day.  It was frustrating, to say the least.  Furthermore, I suspected that students visiting from other classrooms were helping themselves to our stash.  I toyed with the idea of setting up some sort of security checkpoint at the door, but to scan or pat?  I could never quite decide, so I let it go. 

Instead, I cogitated on it for awhile and came up with a plan, loosely based on supply side economics (oh please, do not think me brilliant for using this term.  My husband, The Genius, is an economics guru and throws terms around like dandelions gone to seed.  Every once in a while a fragment of knowledge will land on me and stick in my brain). 

My new Pencil Policy works like this.  I removed all the pencils from the work  station.  On Monday morning when they arrived, I had five pennies sitting at their place at the table.  Since there were no pencils available, they were forced to “buy” a pencil from my freshly sharpened stash at the outrageous price of one cent.  They were informed that they could have all the pencils they wanted, but they would have to fork over a penny each time.  They thought this horribly unfair and were getting ready to complain and possibly form a union, when I hit them with the “hook.”  Whatever money they had left over on Friday would be theirs to keep.  As the true spirit of capitalism sank into their Fruit Loop saturated brains, broad smiles began popping up like Prairie Dogs.  Mr. Future Investment Banker shoots his hand up for clarification.  “Soooo, you’re saying that we get to KEEP our pennies?”  Yup.  Relieved giggles and high fives were happening all over the place now.  OKAY, I might be on to something here.  Yesssss.

In single file, they lined up in front of the Pencil Princess (me) and purchased their identical #2, freshly sharpened pencils.  There is nothing like a fresh pencil at the start of the day to make life worth living; at least in the insular dome of a first grade classroom.

All was well until after reading block.  Suddenly Little Sally Sue realized that she couldn’t find her pencil.  She automatically reached for another, but was met by the Warden (again, me).  “Ah, HAH! This will be one penny, please.”  She looked shaken for a moment, as if trying to discern if I meant it.  I did.  Hey, baby girl.  Life is hard all over.  Her shoulders slumped a little as she fished out one of her precious pennies and plopped it into the tiny green basket I had found in some dusty cupboard somewhere.  “Pleasure doin’ business with ‘ya,” I shouted at her retreating back.  And so it went all day.  And the next day.  

Now a Lord of the Flies mentality was emerging.  Forgetful first graders leaving all to line up for music, or lunch, or take a bathroom break, would return only to find their precious pencils had mysteriously evaporated.  I swear they started to “case” each other’s habits and wait for an opportune time to strike.  Things were quickly dissolving into an episode of Survivor.  Alliances were being formed, enemies made, strategies planned.  I heard on the radio not long ago that the new hot prison currency is Ramen noodles, trumping the decades-old cigarettes for most prized possession.  Wherever a society is formed, no matter how small or insulated, rules of engagement will be created. First grade is no different.

My green basket was filling fast with pennies and my pencil jar was emptying rapidly, BUT not as rapidly as it would have a few days before.

The climax came on Tuesday afternoon.  By now they had the hang of this free market economy.  I was the sole proprietor of something they needed, therefore, I could charge whatever I wanted for my “goods.”  They were free to buy my product or bring their own from home.  They were desperate to hoard their pennies, so now they began to carefully consider where their pencil was at all times.  I saw pencils being tucked into safe places until such a time as they were needed again.  But an unattended pencil was still fair game. 

I knew my goose was in the oven when some eagle-eyed treasure hunter spotted an unattended pencil lying on the floor.  He made the fatal mistake of announcing it to the general population.  “Hey, there’s a pencil!”  No lie… five sweaty bodies just fresh from P.E. dog piled on the darn thing like linebackers in the Super Bowl.  I couldn’t believe my eyes.  I was ready to throw a flag and do an instant replay when the winner emerged from the bottom of the heap grinning and clutching a yellow #2.  It was fun-NEEEE, with a capital FUN.

Today is Friday.  I am pleasantly surprised at the immediate success of my little  experiment.  There are still a fistful of unpurchased pencils sitting in the pencil jar, and there were still pennies rattling around in cubbies this morning.  There was jubilation and rejoicing when my Little Darlings realized they got to keep their two or three pennies forever and ever.  It was something akin to winning the lottery in their little minds.  They will be compiling wish lists like nobody’s business.  They began to discuss what they would do with their fortunes.  I nearly sat down and cried when my little foster girl with the sad, serious eyes announced she would give her money to her mom who, "doesn't have much money."  God bless that golden-hearted lamb.

Maybe I should do the same thing they do at the grocery store and line shelves with worthless garbage right by the cash register.  It seems to work for Walmart.  I’ll set mine up right by the door so they can stare at it when they line up and be hypnotized into buying things like leveled readers and spelling lists.

Mrs. Dahl is smiling because we spent far less time this week waiting for kids to locate pencils.  Instructional time was increased.  Mrs. Dahl’s blood pressure decreased.

Maybe next week I’ll try the same concept with bathroom passes…