Have overwhelming bitterness and angst over the last day of school. Am flying to Jamaica in the morning. Will see if I am still as angst-ridden when I return. I am not going to fret over these freaks today. Will re-evaluate fretting necessity upon return. Right now, everything irie, mon!
Whilst I'm gone, I'd love to get some suggestions about things to write about now that school is out. I have just a few residual stories from school, none that I'm ready to write about until I cool off, but then I need some new material. I need a break from school. Anyone? Anyone?
See you in a week!
Friday, May 27, 2005
Thursday, May 26, 2005
The Freakshow That Is My World
Super!Fun Event was today (before the luau at night, that is clearly a separate festive occasion). I am utterly exhausted and irritated beyond expression. I don't know if it's just something in the air this year or what, but these parents are out of control. One more day...one more day...I repeat my mantra every five to ten minutes.
Our Super!Fun Event is the end of quarter reward from our accountability checkbooks in which the students with enough money can rent a "booth" and create a product or service to sell to the other kids. They can then buy other goods and services from their classmates. It's all a jolly good time, I tell you. Those who are bad run out of money, those who are good earn more. It's a life lesson. Except when there's parents involved.
[taking moment to pull hair out and take long pull from flask]
Dear Parents,
Though it pleases me to see you take an interest in our school functions, it pains me to explain to you that this little contest at school today was not, in fact, for you. Your children worked very hard to earn the right and the money to participate today. See, you have already attended and graduated from the fourth grade...now it's your children's turn.
Despite your neighborhood newsletter, this event was not meant to spawn a cutthroat competition among the parents. It was not intended to be a show of who could spend the most money, nor was it a contest for Most Artistic Parent. While we invite you to attend the Funfest, we did not actually mean for you to run the booths yourself so that your child would have more shopping time than your neighbor's child.
Also, the essence of the day was to create a good or service to share with your classmates. While sometimes frustrating, waiting in line at the store does not constitute the creation of a good. You painting the background of the game does not actually count as your child creating the service. Hooking up your Playstation 2 so that the class can play Dance Dance Revolution and win prizes which you purchased at Toys R Us especially does not count in this particular entrepreneurial challenge.
And we would have preferred that you had not brought in the different colors of temporary hair color to paint onto children's heads. This is against dress code and your children had nothing to do with the actual service. And you got hair dye on my overhead projector and part of my bookshelf. Also, please refrain next year from bringing in the Bose speaker to pound Beach Boys music into the hall even after we told you it would have to be turned off. There are other classes trying to learn, we don't have doors, and we can still hear it when you sneak it back on. It was still not allowed the second time, just like the first time. I wish I could take money away from you, and it's clear to me why your child can't listen.
In closing, I hope that you had a lovely time today, as it may be the last Super!Fun Event that you will attend. What you have in essence done is deny your fellow cappucino club members the right to be guests at the event next year, since we will now have to ban all parents.
Thank you for your time. Together we can acheive more to help your child reach their greatest potential.
Regards,
When Pigs Sing
Since these children are unable to clean up after themselves or follow directions, I then cleaned up my room while I eagerly awaited the evening's event: The Graduation Luau.
-Abrupt ending. Writer has passed out from sheer exhaustion.
Our Super!Fun Event is the end of quarter reward from our accountability checkbooks in which the students with enough money can rent a "booth" and create a product or service to sell to the other kids. They can then buy other goods and services from their classmates. It's all a jolly good time, I tell you. Those who are bad run out of money, those who are good earn more. It's a life lesson. Except when there's parents involved.
[taking moment to pull hair out and take long pull from flask]
Dear Parents,
Though it pleases me to see you take an interest in our school functions, it pains me to explain to you that this little contest at school today was not, in fact, for you. Your children worked very hard to earn the right and the money to participate today. See, you have already attended and graduated from the fourth grade...now it's your children's turn.
Despite your neighborhood newsletter, this event was not meant to spawn a cutthroat competition among the parents. It was not intended to be a show of who could spend the most money, nor was it a contest for Most Artistic Parent. While we invite you to attend the Funfest, we did not actually mean for you to run the booths yourself so that your child would have more shopping time than your neighbor's child.
Also, the essence of the day was to create a good or service to share with your classmates. While sometimes frustrating, waiting in line at the store does not constitute the creation of a good. You painting the background of the game does not actually count as your child creating the service. Hooking up your Playstation 2 so that the class can play Dance Dance Revolution and win prizes which you purchased at Toys R Us especially does not count in this particular entrepreneurial challenge.
And we would have preferred that you had not brought in the different colors of temporary hair color to paint onto children's heads. This is against dress code and your children had nothing to do with the actual service. And you got hair dye on my overhead projector and part of my bookshelf. Also, please refrain next year from bringing in the Bose speaker to pound Beach Boys music into the hall even after we told you it would have to be turned off. There are other classes trying to learn, we don't have doors, and we can still hear it when you sneak it back on. It was still not allowed the second time, just like the first time. I wish I could take money away from you, and it's clear to me why your child can't listen.
In closing, I hope that you had a lovely time today, as it may be the last Super!Fun Event that you will attend. What you have in essence done is deny your fellow cappucino club members the right to be guests at the event next year, since we will now have to ban all parents.
Thank you for your time. Together we can acheive more to help your child reach their greatest potential.
Regards,
When Pigs Sing
Since these children are unable to clean up after themselves or follow directions, I then cleaned up my room while I eagerly awaited the evening's event: The Graduation Luau.
-Abrupt ending. Writer has passed out from sheer exhaustion.
Wednesday, May 25, 2005
Who Are "They"?
We got our test scores back today. Everyone passed and I'm fine and good with all of the scores, but! (there's always a but on this blog) I have a concern for the future of our educational system. And that's kind of a big concern to have.
I am all for testing within reason. I think testing has a very valid role in our schools. It keeps teachers accountable for teaching their curriculum and it keeps students accountable for learning it. I find testing to be motivating to me as a teacher because I am competitive and I like for my kids to be competitive with themselves. I prefer a test such as the EOG in North Carolina which measures students on their growth from year to year as well as how they pass the test, but still I am okay with testing. Except...
When testing children on writing, there is almost always a composition. After all, how do you know if a kid can write without them actually writing? We spend all year coaching the kids on good, quality writing. Not overusing dialogue, using figurative language only when appropriate and original, showing your personality in your writing without going overboard....our students can look at any paper and accurately tell you the score it deserves. They are trained scoring wizards and they enjoy it - it's a bizarre high they get when they nail a score, pure fist pumping joy.
I am dreading sharing their compositions and results with them tomorrow. Not because they did poorly, I was very proud of how they fared, but because of the inaccuracy of the scoring. The inaccuracies vacillate in both directions: overscored and underscored. I am equally appalled at both, but I am most disappointed in the well-written compositional wonders that were given lower scores than they deserved. My students are going to be able to look at their composition and know that their score is inaccurate. Then what do you tell them?
The students' writing is scored on a four point rubric. Generally, in layman's terms, a three is completing the task at grade level and meeting all the standards that are age appropriate. A four means that you went above and beyond and really wowed the scorers. A two signifies some gaps in development/mechanics/voice, etc. Of course, a one shows that you missed the boat. By a lot. It's pretty tough to get a one or a four.
I will give one example of the blasphemy that has befallen my school. These are two fourth grade excerpts from their writing tests, errors included:
1. "Mom I shouted "can we go cammping "Um...and kept beging with tears Will I guess so "Yah" as I jummped up and down with lot's of smiles. At camp green-lake we droped all are stuff down "oooooow" A-A-A I screched what was that I "replied" OK you wanted to came here So Don't be A chicken My big brother. No I'm Not - yes you Are. No I'm not. Yes you Are. "OK" who is ready to start the Day "Me "Swoosh" swoosh the wind blew my check's back "OH" no is that A Bean "uh" "Yah....I think so but, what if it chase's or step's on us. I took A deap breth and ran fast As I could. Soon Darknest came by but I kept runing that seem a Mile run faster he said I nervisly whisped A-A-A look the bear Do we do run faster...
2. Reluctantly, I summoned all my strength and leaped heavily across the river. When I landed on the other side, my bones made a loud popping noise, which I knew wasn't good. "Ouch!" I groaned as I got up to my feet and continued to trudge up the mountain. Finally, an hour later, my sister noticed something. "Look up!" she exclaimed. Slowly, I lifted my head up and saw nothing but the golden sun fading away into the distance. "What?" I inquired curiously when I realized we had reached the top of the mountain. I kissed the land that I was standing on. Below me, I could see acres of shimmering lakes and stretches of forest. Fields of clover swayed in the gentle breeze thousands of feet below me...
Both of these compositions were given a score of three. The first one should be a two, possibly a one, and the second one should be a four. What could the second child have done above that to achieve higher? And more importantly, HOW on this earth are those two samples even in the same ballpark? State? Universe? They are both precisely what we expected each of those children to write, but come ON!
My teammates and I spend seven months living and breathing writing to get these kids prepared for this challenge. How is it worth my time and the kids' efforts when the compositions are not even accurately assessed? We will be appealing several of the scores, but it boggles my mind that they struck out so poorly in the first place. They....this brings me to my next concern.
Who are they? I did a bit of poking around on the internet to try to find out exactly who they are and had very little luck. I did find some documents citing the extensive training which they go through, but then so do the teachers. The difference, I believe, is that teachers then go back to their classrooms and put into practice every day what they learned. They do not. They don't even have to have any classroom experience! They grade hundreds, if not thousands of essays a day! Don't you know that they are going to score something differently at 5:00 than they would at 9am?
Here's what I found out about them: they do have to have a bachelor's degree. In what? It doesn't matter. They also have to pass a proofreading test, one fifth of the scoring rubric, though they may have no concept of what a fourth, seventh or tenth grader should be expected to do mechanically in writing. They also have to write an essay. It is not mentioned whether or not they have to score one, but they are required to write one. Then they have practice with sets of papers. I am certain that there is a quality training process, but I cannot fathom how someone could think that the two samples I mentioned above are remotely in the same league.
Which brings us to my concern for the future of our educational system. My school's rating, my professional reputation and my students' pride in what they achieved this school year are in the hands of a couple of individuals - with bachelor's degrees in something - who have passed a proofreading test and written an essay. In the last few years, testing has become such a massive part of our educational system that a lot of other components are starting to get lost. I think that testing has a very necessary place, but I don't think that it should be so heavily weighted that about ten of my students are going to go home confused tomorrow. When what they thought they learned this year doesn't match up with their feedback from the state, what is going to motivate them to try that hard again in the future? What is going to give me any credibility with parents on the subject of scoring? Clearly, I must have been mistaken when I thought that student #1 needed some continuing tutoring and support in writing...what are parents to think? Those are Official Scores from the State.
So there I am. Confused and frustrated. Solely based on my assessment of their compositions, my students did better than they ever have before. They know I'm happy and proud, but they will get a mixed message when they get their official score. I am very happy that, yes, these kids can write the socks off of anything they are given, but I think there is something very wrong with our system when so much rides on this one test for them. And when this one test is scored by Joe Schmoe, B.A. who has never set foot in a classroom. I think the focus on genuine teaching is being replaced by aimless stabs at how the test might or might not be interpreted this year, and that is just sad.
I am all for testing within reason. I think testing has a very valid role in our schools. It keeps teachers accountable for teaching their curriculum and it keeps students accountable for learning it. I find testing to be motivating to me as a teacher because I am competitive and I like for my kids to be competitive with themselves. I prefer a test such as the EOG in North Carolina which measures students on their growth from year to year as well as how they pass the test, but still I am okay with testing. Except...
When testing children on writing, there is almost always a composition. After all, how do you know if a kid can write without them actually writing? We spend all year coaching the kids on good, quality writing. Not overusing dialogue, using figurative language only when appropriate and original, showing your personality in your writing without going overboard....our students can look at any paper and accurately tell you the score it deserves. They are trained scoring wizards and they enjoy it - it's a bizarre high they get when they nail a score, pure fist pumping joy.
I am dreading sharing their compositions and results with them tomorrow. Not because they did poorly, I was very proud of how they fared, but because of the inaccuracy of the scoring. The inaccuracies vacillate in both directions: overscored and underscored. I am equally appalled at both, but I am most disappointed in the well-written compositional wonders that were given lower scores than they deserved. My students are going to be able to look at their composition and know that their score is inaccurate. Then what do you tell them?
The students' writing is scored on a four point rubric. Generally, in layman's terms, a three is completing the task at grade level and meeting all the standards that are age appropriate. A four means that you went above and beyond and really wowed the scorers. A two signifies some gaps in development/mechanics/voice, etc. Of course, a one shows that you missed the boat. By a lot. It's pretty tough to get a one or a four.
I will give one example of the blasphemy that has befallen my school. These are two fourth grade excerpts from their writing tests, errors included:
1. "Mom I shouted "can we go cammping "Um...and kept beging with tears Will I guess so "Yah" as I jummped up and down with lot's of smiles. At camp green-lake we droped all are stuff down "oooooow" A-A-A I screched what was that I "replied" OK you wanted to came here So Don't be A chicken My big brother. No I'm Not - yes you Are. No I'm not. Yes you Are. "OK" who is ready to start the Day "Me "Swoosh" swoosh the wind blew my check's back "OH" no is that A Bean "uh" "Yah....I think so but, what if it chase's or step's on us. I took A deap breth and ran fast As I could. Soon Darknest came by but I kept runing that seem a Mile run faster he said I nervisly whisped A-A-A look the bear Do we do run faster...
2. Reluctantly, I summoned all my strength and leaped heavily across the river. When I landed on the other side, my bones made a loud popping noise, which I knew wasn't good. "Ouch!" I groaned as I got up to my feet and continued to trudge up the mountain. Finally, an hour later, my sister noticed something. "Look up!" she exclaimed. Slowly, I lifted my head up and saw nothing but the golden sun fading away into the distance. "What?" I inquired curiously when I realized we had reached the top of the mountain. I kissed the land that I was standing on. Below me, I could see acres of shimmering lakes and stretches of forest. Fields of clover swayed in the gentle breeze thousands of feet below me...
Both of these compositions were given a score of three. The first one should be a two, possibly a one, and the second one should be a four. What could the second child have done above that to achieve higher? And more importantly, HOW on this earth are those two samples even in the same ballpark? State? Universe? They are both precisely what we expected each of those children to write, but come ON!
My teammates and I spend seven months living and breathing writing to get these kids prepared for this challenge. How is it worth my time and the kids' efforts when the compositions are not even accurately assessed? We will be appealing several of the scores, but it boggles my mind that they struck out so poorly in the first place. They....this brings me to my next concern.
Who are they? I did a bit of poking around on the internet to try to find out exactly who they are and had very little luck. I did find some documents citing the extensive training which they go through, but then so do the teachers. The difference, I believe, is that teachers then go back to their classrooms and put into practice every day what they learned. They do not. They don't even have to have any classroom experience! They grade hundreds, if not thousands of essays a day! Don't you know that they are going to score something differently at 5:00 than they would at 9am?
Here's what I found out about them: they do have to have a bachelor's degree. In what? It doesn't matter. They also have to pass a proofreading test, one fifth of the scoring rubric, though they may have no concept of what a fourth, seventh or tenth grader should be expected to do mechanically in writing. They also have to write an essay. It is not mentioned whether or not they have to score one, but they are required to write one. Then they have practice with sets of papers. I am certain that there is a quality training process, but I cannot fathom how someone could think that the two samples I mentioned above are remotely in the same league.
Which brings us to my concern for the future of our educational system. My school's rating, my professional reputation and my students' pride in what they achieved this school year are in the hands of a couple of individuals - with bachelor's degrees in something - who have passed a proofreading test and written an essay. In the last few years, testing has become such a massive part of our educational system that a lot of other components are starting to get lost. I think that testing has a very necessary place, but I don't think that it should be so heavily weighted that about ten of my students are going to go home confused tomorrow. When what they thought they learned this year doesn't match up with their feedback from the state, what is going to motivate them to try that hard again in the future? What is going to give me any credibility with parents on the subject of scoring? Clearly, I must have been mistaken when I thought that student #1 needed some continuing tutoring and support in writing...what are parents to think? Those are Official Scores from the State.
So there I am. Confused and frustrated. Solely based on my assessment of their compositions, my students did better than they ever have before. They know I'm happy and proud, but they will get a mixed message when they get their official score. I am very happy that, yes, these kids can write the socks off of anything they are given, but I think there is something very wrong with our system when so much rides on this one test for them. And when this one test is scored by Joe Schmoe, B.A. who has never set foot in a classroom. I think the focus on genuine teaching is being replaced by aimless stabs at how the test might or might not be interpreted this year, and that is just sad.
Tuesday, May 24, 2005
You put the lime in the coconut, drink 'em both up...
Thanks for all of the clever ideas regarding my impending luau. Unfortunately, our lack of unions pretty much mandates my attendance at this riveting event. I'm still close to a lot of those kids and their parents, so I'd feel kind of bad if I didn't attend, I suppose. I suspect that we are being given some type of thank you reward, perhaps they'll offer us some more of their garage sale items, who knows? It can hardly miss. I'll be there, though probably not with bells on. My teammates think we should go to happy hour before the luau to make the event a bit more festive. Hee! We'll see what happens there.
There was an important development today...we finally got our coveted checklist! I printed that bad boy out and went to town checking stuff off right and left. It seems to me that if you are requiring your teachers to complete a three page checklist of duties in order for them to comp out of their Saturday workday (YES! A Saturday workday! Have you ever heard of such?) that you would provide them with such a list a bit before now. When there are 3 days of school left. But whatever. I have it and I plan to be the first one to turn mine in.
I only offended one parent today, which is pretty good considering the swarm of them who were volunteering for our leadership stations two day event. (Read: fill up day so teachers can slave over checklists) I had a horrific group of darlings come through my station second today. They were AWFUL and the parent in charge of the group before me said the same thing. At lunch I dropped the comment, "I pity the fool who has the red group next!" and of course, one of the parent's son was in that group, etc. etc. I've got to learn to keep my mouth shut. She didn't say anything to me, but made it a point to come tell me later how fabulously well-behaved that group was for her. OHHHH-kay, lady. Whatevah. I'm picking my battles.
Did I mention that I'm going to Jamaica in just THREE DAYS?! Oh, yeah, baby!!
There was an important development today...we finally got our coveted checklist! I printed that bad boy out and went to town checking stuff off right and left. It seems to me that if you are requiring your teachers to complete a three page checklist of duties in order for them to comp out of their Saturday workday (YES! A Saturday workday! Have you ever heard of such?) that you would provide them with such a list a bit before now. When there are 3 days of school left. But whatever. I have it and I plan to be the first one to turn mine in.
I only offended one parent today, which is pretty good considering the swarm of them who were volunteering for our leadership stations two day event. (Read: fill up day so teachers can slave over checklists) I had a horrific group of darlings come through my station second today. They were AWFUL and the parent in charge of the group before me said the same thing. At lunch I dropped the comment, "I pity the fool who has the red group next!" and of course, one of the parent's son was in that group, etc. etc. I've got to learn to keep my mouth shut. She didn't say anything to me, but made it a point to come tell me later how fabulously well-behaved that group was for her. OHHHH-kay, lady. Whatevah. I'm picking my battles.
Did I mention that I'm going to Jamaica in just THREE DAYS?! Oh, yeah, baby!!
Monday, May 23, 2005
Insanity Update
Gussje inquired about the state of the warring factions from last week. After the police escort, the crazy one had the audacity to return to campus the next morning as though nothing had happened! She had driven over to the school and had been briefly stopped by the crossing guard allowing children to cross the road. To avoid a traffic back-up, the guard and the cop count stopped cars (with their finger) until they reach a certain amount, then they let traffic go. Crazy One came into the office to file an official complaint that the crossing guard and the cop were pointing at her and talking about her. Paranoia, anyone?
Then, she and her fellow headcases passed out invitations to the fifth grade luau (they're really into luaus this year) for Thursday night. And told us that we are required to be there. At night! These are not even children I taught this year! Since when can a parent require us to be somewhere period, much less at night? Oh, but at our school they can. Word came down from the same folks who organized the 'ol parent volunteer luncheon. (not administrators, but the admin supports whatever orders they give us.)
Now, if you are a teacher, you know that there is an exorbitant amount of paperwork and "moving of things" in the last couple of weeks of school. At least there always has been in the past...back when we used to get an end of the year checklist a few weeks before school was out. I timidly broached the secretary about this list today.
Me: Um, hi? [smile] Do you happen to know when we will be getting our end of year checklist?
Secretary: [scathing glare]
Me: I mean, no rush, it's just that there are only 4 days left and I'd like to get star-...well, maybe we're not doing one this year? Are we going to get one? [hesitant hopeful, pleasant smile]
Secretary: YES. [faces computer, types, ignores me]
Me: Um, okay....thanks! [skitter out door before her broom can hit me]
Sheesh...is that really an appropriate way to treat people? Everyone in this school walks all over people. Primarily parents and this secretary. She has a tiara on her desk. For real. You know what's on my desk? All the paperwork that I can't do because no one will give me a blasted checklist or any of the spreadsheets on which to do it!
It is very clear that we are going to have to work very late hours this week, but now I'm going to have to squeeze those hours in between the mandatory Luau and our Wild Wacky Faculty Meeting that just got scheduled for Wednesday. Now, there is no reason to have a meeting, mind you (unless they were planning to give us our checklist there), but the office staff thought it would be "fun" to have a Wild and Wacky Awards Ceremony for the teachers. In other words? Another chance to make fun of us in public, in case no one got their fill when we were waiting tables and eating off the servant plates at the parent volunteer soiree. We got an email today demanding that we submit the wacky awards for our teammates. Because we don't have any paperwork or anything we could be doing. ARGH!!!
Oh, dear blog, whatever would I do without you? Who would listen to my woes? Thank you, blog.
Then, she and her fellow headcases passed out invitations to the fifth grade luau (they're really into luaus this year) for Thursday night. And told us that we are required to be there. At night! These are not even children I taught this year! Since when can a parent require us to be somewhere period, much less at night? Oh, but at our school they can. Word came down from the same folks who organized the 'ol parent volunteer luncheon. (not administrators, but the admin supports whatever orders they give us.)
Now, if you are a teacher, you know that there is an exorbitant amount of paperwork and "moving of things" in the last couple of weeks of school. At least there always has been in the past...back when we used to get an end of the year checklist a few weeks before school was out. I timidly broached the secretary about this list today.
Me: Um, hi? [smile] Do you happen to know when we will be getting our end of year checklist?
Secretary: [scathing glare]
Me: I mean, no rush, it's just that there are only 4 days left and I'd like to get star-...well, maybe we're not doing one this year? Are we going to get one? [hesitant hopeful, pleasant smile]
Secretary: YES. [faces computer, types, ignores me]
Me: Um, okay....thanks! [skitter out door before her broom can hit me]
Sheesh...is that really an appropriate way to treat people? Everyone in this school walks all over people. Primarily parents and this secretary. She has a tiara on her desk. For real. You know what's on my desk? All the paperwork that I can't do because no one will give me a blasted checklist or any of the spreadsheets on which to do it!
It is very clear that we are going to have to work very late hours this week, but now I'm going to have to squeeze those hours in between the mandatory Luau and our Wild Wacky Faculty Meeting that just got scheduled for Wednesday. Now, there is no reason to have a meeting, mind you (unless they were planning to give us our checklist there), but the office staff thought it would be "fun" to have a Wild and Wacky Awards Ceremony for the teachers. In other words? Another chance to make fun of us in public, in case no one got their fill when we were waiting tables and eating off the servant plates at the parent volunteer soiree. We got an email today demanding that we submit the wacky awards for our teammates. Because we don't have any paperwork or anything we could be doing. ARGH!!!
Oh, dear blog, whatever would I do without you? Who would listen to my woes? Thank you, blog.
Why?
Select-a-Size papertowels drive me insane. Just for the record. You go for a full-sized sheet and you get a scrap. Who needs a scrap?! If you do, you just fold a normal papertowel in half! Unfortunately, my cheapness and my loathing of Select-a-Size collide when that's all that Sam's carries and they're so darn cheap. Probably because no one would buy them in the regular store. Humph. That's all I have to say about that.
Saturday, May 21, 2005
Ah, Procrastination...
Okay, I got tagged by Post-Hip Chick to do this little ditty. You are supposed to pick five sentence starters to write about and three people to "challenge".
if I could be a scientist...If I could be a farmer...If I could be a musician...If I could be a doctor...If I could be a painter...If I could be a gardener...If I could be a missionary...If I could be a chef...If I could be an architect...If I could be a linguist...If I could be a psychologist...If I could be a librarian...If I could be an athlete...If I could be a lawyer...If I could be an inn-keeper...If I could be a professor...If I could be a writer...If I could be a llama-rider...If I could be a bonnie pirate...If I could be an astronaut...If I could be a world famous blogger...If I could be a justice on any one court in the world...If I could be married to any current famous political figure...
Here I go.
If I could be a librarian, I'd be fulfilling my childhood career goals. I always wanted to be either a librarian or a fire truck driver. I think if I could be a librarian, I'd combine the two and create a bookmobile with a horn that played Dixie. And I might sell ice cream out the back. If I was a librarian, I think I would happily work overtime. I'd read all the books in the library and I would guide people to the book that would suit them just right. Reading to kids would be my favorite part - I would start with my favorite read aloud, The Last of the Really Great Whangdoodles.
If I could be married to any current famous political figure, I'd use my clout to make sure that everyone understood the downsides of No Child Left Behind and teacher incentive/merit pay. I also might promote a beagle rescue operation. I'd be very vocal and do lots of volunteer work with low income schools. Yep.
If I could be a scientist, I'd jump right onto some research into the annihilation of leg hair. I would also look into curing adult acne and other frustrating beauty situations. That takes care of the selfish science issues. I think I might should reverse my order here...also I would like to work on cures for obvious life-threatening diseases, particularly those affecting children.
If I could be a writer, I'd write a book for teachers in training. It would skip the usual feel-good positive reinforcement/varied learning styles/everyone wins poppycock and get straight to reality: Kids are Tough, Parents are Brutal, and the Administration Does Not Always Have Your Back: A Survival Guide for New Teachers. Hey! I think I just hit on a title! It would be funny and realistic and would provide real solutions to real problems. (We will not be focusing on thematic units or bulletin boards here) Most importantly, it should make good people want to teach, not scare people off. We need more good people.
If I could be an athlete, I'd start with all of the sports at which I did not exactly excel growing up. Which would be, um...most of them. We'll start with t-ball, where my dad the coach put me in the far reaches of the outfield. Then we'll move to soccer, where I quit after getting hit in the mouth with the ball. Never even got the team picture. After mastering those sports, I will then delve into gymnastics. I will once and for all learn how to touch my toes and do a cartwheel without having limbs flying in every direction. And I would like to be able to jump gracefully on a trampoline without looking like a disjointed clown. I will finish my athletic endeavor by acing the dives I never managed when on the diving team in high school and learning how to slice the ball in tennis, thereby moving me to a more competitive league. That's all I have to say about athletics.
So, those are my five, what are yours? I challenge Carrie, Jen, and MadHatter. And anyone else who is procrastinating!
if I could be a scientist...If I could be a farmer...If I could be a musician...If I could be a doctor...If I could be a painter...If I could be a gardener...If I could be a missionary...If I could be a chef...If I could be an architect...If I could be a linguist...If I could be a psychologist...If I could be a librarian...If I could be an athlete...If I could be a lawyer...If I could be an inn-keeper...If I could be a professor...If I could be a writer...If I could be a llama-rider...If I could be a bonnie pirate...If I could be an astronaut...If I could be a world famous blogger...If I could be a justice on any one court in the world...If I could be married to any current famous political figure...
Here I go.
If I could be a librarian, I'd be fulfilling my childhood career goals. I always wanted to be either a librarian or a fire truck driver. I think if I could be a librarian, I'd combine the two and create a bookmobile with a horn that played Dixie. And I might sell ice cream out the back. If I was a librarian, I think I would happily work overtime. I'd read all the books in the library and I would guide people to the book that would suit them just right. Reading to kids would be my favorite part - I would start with my favorite read aloud, The Last of the Really Great Whangdoodles.
If I could be married to any current famous political figure, I'd use my clout to make sure that everyone understood the downsides of No Child Left Behind and teacher incentive/merit pay. I also might promote a beagle rescue operation. I'd be very vocal and do lots of volunteer work with low income schools. Yep.
If I could be a scientist, I'd jump right onto some research into the annihilation of leg hair. I would also look into curing adult acne and other frustrating beauty situations. That takes care of the selfish science issues. I think I might should reverse my order here...also I would like to work on cures for obvious life-threatening diseases, particularly those affecting children.
If I could be a writer, I'd write a book for teachers in training. It would skip the usual feel-good positive reinforcement/varied learning styles/everyone wins poppycock and get straight to reality: Kids are Tough, Parents are Brutal, and the Administration Does Not Always Have Your Back: A Survival Guide for New Teachers. Hey! I think I just hit on a title! It would be funny and realistic and would provide real solutions to real problems. (We will not be focusing on thematic units or bulletin boards here) Most importantly, it should make good people want to teach, not scare people off. We need more good people.
If I could be an athlete, I'd start with all of the sports at which I did not exactly excel growing up. Which would be, um...most of them. We'll start with t-ball, where my dad the coach put me in the far reaches of the outfield. Then we'll move to soccer, where I quit after getting hit in the mouth with the ball. Never even got the team picture. After mastering those sports, I will then delve into gymnastics. I will once and for all learn how to touch my toes and do a cartwheel without having limbs flying in every direction. And I would like to be able to jump gracefully on a trampoline without looking like a disjointed clown. I will finish my athletic endeavor by acing the dives I never managed when on the diving team in high school and learning how to slice the ball in tennis, thereby moving me to a more competitive league. That's all I have to say about athletics.
So, those are my five, what are yours? I challenge Carrie, Jen, and MadHatter. And anyone else who is procrastinating!
Friday, May 20, 2005
Goober is an anagram of booger.
It was field day today. It was 103 degrees. I was outside from 11:10-6:00.
That was time for you to think about that. The heat index was 107, the UV Index was a 9. The ozone warning was an orange. My arms and feet are the color of a tomato and my second beer is not making them feel better yet. My classroom [possibly permanently] smells overwhelmingly of armpit, with a little sour kid + feet mixed in for good measure.
Five of the fourteen stations were water stations. Just enough time in between for each child to get wet and dry until they smelled like a moldy washcloth. We had the "We Don't Hit Other People" talk three different times until it sunk in completely. One of my freak kids got paralyzed with fear at the top of the bounce house obstacle course and claimed we were "being insensitive to his phobia of heights" when we laughed at him for screaming like a baby. My 250 pound superfluously hormoned child wore spandex. And then it got wet. I saw a lot of stuff. Quote of the day? In the midst of a sponge hurl, one of my gifted kids yells to me across the parking lot, "Hey, Mrs! Goober is an anagram of booger!" Splat. Ummkay. So, I sweated and I sweated and I sweated until field day finally ended. Then I tried not to gag on the smell of wet sock as I endured the last 30 minutes of the day.
You would think that would be enough, but after school my class was having their end of the year pool party at one little girl's house. This tradition at my school is rather nice, but I don't think it should take place on field day. My face fell when I read about the happy hour taking place after school. I quickly sniffed my pits, dried my sweat, assessed my time situation and decided there was no harm in having a quick beer before going to the pool party. After all, there's only so much one can take. So I did. Was that so wrong?
Five more days.
That was time for you to think about that. The heat index was 107, the UV Index was a 9. The ozone warning was an orange. My arms and feet are the color of a tomato and my second beer is not making them feel better yet. My classroom [possibly permanently] smells overwhelmingly of armpit, with a little sour kid + feet mixed in for good measure.
Five of the fourteen stations were water stations. Just enough time in between for each child to get wet and dry until they smelled like a moldy washcloth. We had the "We Don't Hit Other People" talk three different times until it sunk in completely. One of my freak kids got paralyzed with fear at the top of the bounce house obstacle course and claimed we were "being insensitive to his phobia of heights" when we laughed at him for screaming like a baby. My 250 pound superfluously hormoned child wore spandex. And then it got wet. I saw a lot of stuff. Quote of the day? In the midst of a sponge hurl, one of my gifted kids yells to me across the parking lot, "Hey, Mrs! Goober is an anagram of booger!" Splat. Ummkay. So, I sweated and I sweated and I sweated until field day finally ended. Then I tried not to gag on the smell of wet sock as I endured the last 30 minutes of the day.
You would think that would be enough, but after school my class was having their end of the year pool party at one little girl's house. This tradition at my school is rather nice, but I don't think it should take place on field day. My face fell when I read about the happy hour taking place after school. I quickly sniffed my pits, dried my sweat, assessed my time situation and decided there was no harm in having a quick beer before going to the pool party. After all, there's only so much one can take. So I did. Was that so wrong?
Five more days.
Thursday, May 19, 2005
Oh, no she di-ENT!
I know my school is pretty odd a lot of the time, usually in terms of school or faculty, but today? Today it was the out of control parents! The parents who don't insist on their children doing homework, don't want sports to have scores, and don't want to be bothered with the likes of me, a silly teacher, troubling them for trivial things such as their child's welfare or academic performance. Silly teacher!
But today? Today it reached a new level. There were cops called over these parents. But we should start at the beginning and I will try to make this as simple as possible by limiting it to ten steps.
1. Parents wanted to celebrate teachers' birthdays in a particular grade level. Not for the benefit of the teacher, mind you, but to try to out-do one another in the neighborhood.
2. One teacher had the audacity to have her birthday here at the end of the school year when there are so many other important things going on. Parties! Field Day! Yearbooks! Priorities.
3. Parents requested to celebrate said teacher's anniversary instead of her birthday so that it didn't interfere with their children's festivities. Clearly an understandable need.
4. Teacher complied agreeably, as most of us don't want our birthdays made over anyway. Parents threw teacher an anniversary luau. I'm not kidding. It was back in the winter and it was nicer than my prom. But I digress.
5. Today was when it all came to a head. What came to a head, you might ask? That's what I wondered when I heard that parents were all in a public fight. Over what? I thought. Hmmm. One might wonder... grades? No, we don't have any. Administration? No, they let the parents run the school. Next year's teachers? Hmmmm.....actually? It was over that aforementioned teacher's birthday. For real.
6. Which brings us to number 6. Long story short (too late), one parent accused another of dropping the ball on the teacher's birthday, despite the luau, and a vicious name-calling, character defaming email war copied to all of the parents and teachers ensued. Oh, yeah! Now, at this point in the year this makes great gossip for the teachers - it's a fabulous reprieve from measuring one another's eye rolls and holding up the number of fingers to show how many days are left in the year. We've been gathered in small groups hissing about it all day, until the Big Event.
7. The two primary warring factions met in the hallway during the school day. Are you ready for this? One of them? Had the audacity to bring in cupcakes to the teacher without telling anyone and despite the luau! [collective gasp] Can you believe? A massive fight ensued. We're talking yelling, finger waving, leaning into one another, and a prevailing "oh, no, you di-ENT!" vibration.
8. Except they did it in front of the office. The principal was about to have her retirement party after school, hosting many of the higher-ups from the district.
9. Just before the fight became physical, the principal called the cops who escorted the parents off the property. ROCK ON!
10. Most of the teachers were just upset that no one called them to go watch the brawl. It was the most fun thing that's happened all week! Could we be more white trash at my school that wants to be cappucino club so bad it hurts? I loved it. It made my day.
Most schools have to call cops to deal with unruly students. In the suburbs? It's those Keepin' Up With the Joneses parents you gotta worry about. I'm still snickering 5 hours later...six more days.
But today? Today it reached a new level. There were cops called over these parents. But we should start at the beginning and I will try to make this as simple as possible by limiting it to ten steps.
1. Parents wanted to celebrate teachers' birthdays in a particular grade level. Not for the benefit of the teacher, mind you, but to try to out-do one another in the neighborhood.
2. One teacher had the audacity to have her birthday here at the end of the school year when there are so many other important things going on. Parties! Field Day! Yearbooks! Priorities.
3. Parents requested to celebrate said teacher's anniversary instead of her birthday so that it didn't interfere with their children's festivities. Clearly an understandable need.
4. Teacher complied agreeably, as most of us don't want our birthdays made over anyway. Parents threw teacher an anniversary luau. I'm not kidding. It was back in the winter and it was nicer than my prom. But I digress.
5. Today was when it all came to a head. What came to a head, you might ask? That's what I wondered when I heard that parents were all in a public fight. Over what? I thought. Hmmm. One might wonder... grades? No, we don't have any. Administration? No, they let the parents run the school. Next year's teachers? Hmmmm.....actually? It was over that aforementioned teacher's birthday. For real.
6. Which brings us to number 6. Long story short (too late), one parent accused another of dropping the ball on the teacher's birthday, despite the luau, and a vicious name-calling, character defaming email war copied to all of the parents and teachers ensued. Oh, yeah! Now, at this point in the year this makes great gossip for the teachers - it's a fabulous reprieve from measuring one another's eye rolls and holding up the number of fingers to show how many days are left in the year. We've been gathered in small groups hissing about it all day, until the Big Event.
7. The two primary warring factions met in the hallway during the school day. Are you ready for this? One of them? Had the audacity to bring in cupcakes to the teacher without telling anyone and despite the luau! [collective gasp] Can you believe? A massive fight ensued. We're talking yelling, finger waving, leaning into one another, and a prevailing "oh, no, you di-ENT!" vibration.
8. Except they did it in front of the office. The principal was about to have her retirement party after school, hosting many of the higher-ups from the district.
9. Just before the fight became physical, the principal called the cops who escorted the parents off the property. ROCK ON!
10. Most of the teachers were just upset that no one called them to go watch the brawl. It was the most fun thing that's happened all week! Could we be more white trash at my school that wants to be cappucino club so bad it hurts? I loved it. It made my day.
Most schools have to call cops to deal with unruly students. In the suburbs? It's those Keepin' Up With the Joneses parents you gotta worry about. I'm still snickering 5 hours later...six more days.
Wednesday, May 18, 2005
Where do you keep your ketchup?
Doing final book reports today:
One academically challenged, but creative little girl decided to make freckle juice for her book report on the book Freckle Juice by Judy Blume. The concoction is a foul one of vinegar and mayonnaise and pepper and such. She had prepared parts of it ahead of time and was mixing it in front of the class. We were all eager to smell the nasty potion firsthand.
"I'm sorry, but my mom didn't have any ketchup, which is the last ingredient." She smiled shyly, then joked, "Anybody got any ketchup?" I giggled at her little joke along with the rest of the class when-
"I got some!" a green streak darted out of my room and into his homeroom. I sighed. My reporter giggled and the rest of the class rolled their eyes. Stifler. Always Stifler.
"He has ketchup?" I queried in disbelief. "Ketchup? Where?"
"He steals it from the cafeteria and keeps it in his locker," replied one helpful little pumpkin. Well, of course he does, I thought. Silly me. Who doesn't keep ketchup in their locker?
"Here you go!" Stifler returned panting, arm extended, hand filled with ketchup packets. He grinned proudly.
"Um, why do you have ketchup in your locker? Don't you think that's kind of...unusual?" I tried to broach the subject kindly while suppressing my "you're a complete freak" eyebrow creeping dangerously near my hairline.
But Stifler wasn't troubled in the least. "I keep it until Friday, then take it all home. On the weekends we lay it on the street and then wait for cars to run over it." His beam of delight was so radiant I had to laugh. Only Stifler. (Seven days left.)
One academically challenged, but creative little girl decided to make freckle juice for her book report on the book Freckle Juice by Judy Blume. The concoction is a foul one of vinegar and mayonnaise and pepper and such. She had prepared parts of it ahead of time and was mixing it in front of the class. We were all eager to smell the nasty potion firsthand.
"I'm sorry, but my mom didn't have any ketchup, which is the last ingredient." She smiled shyly, then joked, "Anybody got any ketchup?" I giggled at her little joke along with the rest of the class when-
"I got some!" a green streak darted out of my room and into his homeroom. I sighed. My reporter giggled and the rest of the class rolled their eyes. Stifler. Always Stifler.
"He has ketchup?" I queried in disbelief. "Ketchup? Where?"
"He steals it from the cafeteria and keeps it in his locker," replied one helpful little pumpkin. Well, of course he does, I thought. Silly me. Who doesn't keep ketchup in their locker?
"Here you go!" Stifler returned panting, arm extended, hand filled with ketchup packets. He grinned proudly.
"Um, why do you have ketchup in your locker? Don't you think that's kind of...unusual?" I tried to broach the subject kindly while suppressing my "you're a complete freak" eyebrow creeping dangerously near my hairline.
But Stifler wasn't troubled in the least. "I keep it until Friday, then take it all home. On the weekends we lay it on the street and then wait for cars to run over it." His beam of delight was so radiant I had to laugh. Only Stifler. (Seven days left.)
Tuesday, May 17, 2005
8 Days
Did you ever really break down what 8 days left really means? Have you?
8 days left means that:
8 days left means that:
- A child writes his name on the bathroom wall. In public! Can you imagine what must have been going through his mind to destroy public property in such a horrific fashion? Did I mention that he wrote it with his own feces?
8 days left means that:
- Everything is multiplied by 4. The number of times a child says my name to get my attention. The messiness of my classroom. The amount of money I am taking from children's accountability checkbooks each day. Ain't nobody going to have any cash come Super!Fun Reward Day.
8 days left means that:
- Homework is a mere annoyance. There is really no need to complete such silliness. Parents will get you out of it, anyway! Afterall, they're taking you out of school 4 days early to go on your Disney World for 4 days/cruise for 7 days combo! Silly teacher...
8 days left means that:
- Teachers no longer speak to each other in the halls. You measure someone's day by how high they roll their eyes and how many times they shake their heads when they pass you in the hall. If they make wrist slitting motions, the day is exceptionally poor.
8 days left means that:
- The principal who is retiring doesn't come to school anymore. Especially when her furniture is being delivered to her new house. There was a TAKS math re-test today, but she's getting new furniture. Priorities.
Everyone's done. Finished. Checked out. Except for teachers who are supposed to complete report cards, reorder and clean out cumulative folders, back up all computer data, hunt down missing library books, collect fines, clean out classroom (but not too early), collect end of year testing data, analyze assessment data, enter and report assessment data, place students in new classes, plan and participate in field day/award day/leadership day/Super!Fun day, etc. Oh, and teach. We're supposed to teach too. That's all I have to say about that. Harumph.
Monday, May 16, 2005
Stats 'O the Day!
5 - The number of times I pressed snooze this morning.
21 - The number of times I said, "Why aren't your goals finished?" They were due today.
11 - The number of kids who had to stay in at recess because of lack of goals.
36,504 - The number of times they were reminded/warned in the last two weeks.
9 - School days left
11 - The number of weeks the kids had to read their 5 picture books and 3 chapter books.
3 - The number of times I stepped into the hall to take a deep breath.
9 - School days left
5 - Number of hours I spent in an ARD this afternoon (Texas speak for an IEP meeting. Texas has to be different.)
2 - Number of lawyers present at the meeting
4 - Number of F-bombs dropped during course of meeting
11 - Diagnoses for child in question
9 - School days left
1 - The number of glasses of wine I have poured. So far.
Priceless - The guy who I let merge in front of me on the expressway on the way home who toasted me with his beer bottle in thanks. Sometimes Texas makes me laugh. Sorry for the disorganized rambly train of thought. Cheers! (9 more days)
21 - The number of times I said, "Why aren't your goals finished?" They were due today.
11 - The number of kids who had to stay in at recess because of lack of goals.
36,504 - The number of times they were reminded/warned in the last two weeks.
9 - School days left
11 - The number of weeks the kids had to read their 5 picture books and 3 chapter books.
3 - The number of times I stepped into the hall to take a deep breath.
9 - School days left
5 - Number of hours I spent in an ARD this afternoon (Texas speak for an IEP meeting. Texas has to be different.)
2 - Number of lawyers present at the meeting
4 - Number of F-bombs dropped during course of meeting
11 - Diagnoses for child in question
9 - School days left
1 - The number of glasses of wine I have poured. So far.
Priceless - The guy who I let merge in front of me on the expressway on the way home who toasted me with his beer bottle in thanks. Sometimes Texas makes me laugh. Sorry for the disorganized rambly train of thought. Cheers! (9 more days)
Sunday, May 15, 2005
Pop Quiz
How well have you been paying attention? Are you a loyal reader or a casual skimmer? Let me know your score on my pop quiz "How Well Do You Know When Pigs Sing?" Report your grade in the comments for extra credit.
What goals?
A peep into my classroom, just for kicks. I walk around the room with a clipboard, desperately trying to convince the kids that it really will benefit them to turn in their quarterly goals. (They've had 11 weeks to read three chapter books. Many are just beginning their second.)
Me: Why are your goals not finished?
Student: There are no more Newbery books in the whole library! [smiles becomingly]
Me: Well, let's give the librarian a call and see what she knows about that. [smile falls, I dial]
Librarian: [has caller ID] Why are all of your kids just now coming down here for goals?
Me: That is an excellent question! [we laugh] I hear that you are having a shortage of Newbery books!
Librarian: No.
Me: Thanks! [turn back to child] Okay, there's plenty of books. Now, why are your goals not finished?
Student: I had soccer.
Me: For 11 weeks? You played 11 weeks of nonstop soccer? Even here at school? That's amazing!
Student: Can I go to the library?
[move to next child]
Me: May I see your goals sheet please?
Student: I made a horse in art out of clay and its mane swoops up like the Fonz! Heeeeeeey! [strikes Fonzie pose]
Me: Goals? [wait patiently]
Student: I still need to read an Alamo book and they're all checked out.
Me: Have they been checked out for all 11 weeks? Do you have enough money to pay for your late fees next week when your goals aren't completed on time?
[move to next student, feverishly writing]
Me: May I see your goals?
Student: We have 84 hours and 36 minutes left to spend in school! [grins]
Me: How many of those hours is it going to take you to finish your goals?
Student: What goals?
Me: [banging head against wall]
Me: Why are your goals not finished?
Student: There are no more Newbery books in the whole library! [smiles becomingly]
Me: Well, let's give the librarian a call and see what she knows about that. [smile falls, I dial]
Librarian: [has caller ID] Why are all of your kids just now coming down here for goals?
Me: That is an excellent question! [we laugh] I hear that you are having a shortage of Newbery books!
Librarian: No.
Me: Thanks! [turn back to child] Okay, there's plenty of books. Now, why are your goals not finished?
Student: I had soccer.
Me: For 11 weeks? You played 11 weeks of nonstop soccer? Even here at school? That's amazing!
Student: Can I go to the library?
[move to next child]
Me: May I see your goals sheet please?
Student: I made a horse in art out of clay and its mane swoops up like the Fonz! Heeeeeeey! [strikes Fonzie pose]
Me: Goals? [wait patiently]
Student: I still need to read an Alamo book and they're all checked out.
Me: Have they been checked out for all 11 weeks? Do you have enough money to pay for your late fees next week when your goals aren't completed on time?
[move to next student, feverishly writing]
Me: May I see your goals?
Student: We have 84 hours and 36 minutes left to spend in school! [grins]
Me: How many of those hours is it going to take you to finish your goals?
Student: What goals?
Me: [banging head against wall]
Saturday, May 14, 2005
Accountability, Shmaccountability.
Okay, I believe I have at last recovered from the humiliation of Wednesday's Volunteer Luncheon. I am disappointed in my blog performance over the last several days, but the sheer amount of energy required just to maintain the minimal amount of control in my classroom is absolutely ginormous. I am so exhausted when I get home each day that I have fallen into a deep sleep as soon as I collapse on the couch.
Now it is Saturday evening and I've had the opportunity to detox from school for a full 24 hours and reflect on my week. After some analysis, I have hit on a few of the inconsistencies which are making my weeks so challenging.
1. Administration stresses the importance of not "ending school early." I agree heartily and continue running class much like I did prior to The Test, but incorporating some more challenging material that the kids will encounter next year. I continue assigning homework, though less than before.
Problem: Parents do believe that school is over and see no reason for their kids to be doing homework. They tell kids that it is okay not to complete assignments. I consequently take money from child for not having said assignment, parent calls administration, administration reminds teachers that checkbook system should be both positive and negative. Which leads us to number two.
2. I am very concerned that some of my kids are not going to make the end of year Super!Fun event because they are going to run out of money. To help them, I am creating endless inane tasks that they may do to earn money back. I look for ways to give them money; things as ridiculous as, "Billy! Thank you for picking up that pencil! Way to show some initiative! Let me give you two dollars!" Then Billy learns that he can get the money back that he lost when his mom told him he didn't have to do his homework. It's a vicious cycle. My colleagues and I feel that Billy and those like him do not deserve to participate in the event, as they have not met the criteria laid out at the beginning of the quarter. Which leads us to problem number three.
3. The administration does not think that anyone should be left out of the event, regardless of how they behaved or adhered to the system all quarter. Sigh. So the purpose of the system is.....Bueller? Bueller? This little game perpetuates this little community's comfort with no grades, no keeping score in sports, no losing teams, and no accountability. It just excites me to go to school each day. Smile.
What's a tired teacher to do? When I muster up the energy, I'll create a little sample of a typical ten minutes of a day.
Now it is Saturday evening and I've had the opportunity to detox from school for a full 24 hours and reflect on my week. After some analysis, I have hit on a few of the inconsistencies which are making my weeks so challenging.
1. Administration stresses the importance of not "ending school early." I agree heartily and continue running class much like I did prior to The Test, but incorporating some more challenging material that the kids will encounter next year. I continue assigning homework, though less than before.
Problem: Parents do believe that school is over and see no reason for their kids to be doing homework. They tell kids that it is okay not to complete assignments. I consequently take money from child for not having said assignment, parent calls administration, administration reminds teachers that checkbook system should be both positive and negative. Which leads us to number two.
2. I am very concerned that some of my kids are not going to make the end of year Super!Fun event because they are going to run out of money. To help them, I am creating endless inane tasks that they may do to earn money back. I look for ways to give them money; things as ridiculous as, "Billy! Thank you for picking up that pencil! Way to show some initiative! Let me give you two dollars!" Then Billy learns that he can get the money back that he lost when his mom told him he didn't have to do his homework. It's a vicious cycle. My colleagues and I feel that Billy and those like him do not deserve to participate in the event, as they have not met the criteria laid out at the beginning of the quarter. Which leads us to problem number three.
3. The administration does not think that anyone should be left out of the event, regardless of how they behaved or adhered to the system all quarter. Sigh. So the purpose of the system is.....Bueller? Bueller? This little game perpetuates this little community's comfort with no grades, no keeping score in sports, no losing teams, and no accountability. It just excites me to go to school each day. Smile.
What's a tired teacher to do? When I muster up the energy, I'll create a little sample of a typical ten minutes of a day.
Wednesday, May 11, 2005
Oh, What Might Tomorrow Bring?
Forget all the nice stuff I said yesterday, positive day has passed. (though I would like to point out that it is ironic that my happy day happened on a Tuesday) Clearly, positive inconsequential events were not well-received, as no one had much to say about it, so I'm back to being my cynical self*.
So. My school has taken the lack of respect for teachers to an entirely new level. Teacher "Appreciation" Week is over and finished......enter Parent Volunteer Appreciation Week. No, I'm not kidding. Our counselor and secretaries were in charge of today's Volunteer Luncheon, a fine idea I think. I appreciate the parents who have volunteered more than anything in the world. Every year I have always written them personal and sincere notes of thanks accompanied by a nice plant. [Note: Though parents in K-3 are biting at the bit to be helping in the classroom and go on field trips, the novelty tends to wear off in the upper grades when the curriculum gets harder than they prefer to help with, the copy pile grows larger, and the kids start to become embarrassed by their hovering mommies.]
On to today's lunch. Since my room mom quit in December, I had five parents to thank for various tasks with which they have been a tremendous help. I invited them to the luncheon as instructed by the organizers and wrote it on my calendar. End of thought, right? Right! Until last week, when the luncheon planners kicked into overdrive and became intoxicated with the power and glory of organizing the event of the year: the school volunteer lunch.
We received an email filled with very explicit instructions. I read it carefully, and not without awe. I had never seen such specificities go into what I thought to be a fairly inconsequential event. Silly me....silly, silly me. This lunch had a theme. (our yard sale-esque teacher raffle last week did not, in fact, have a theme, in case you were curious.) "Puttin' On the Ritz", today's lunch was called. I know, because there was a handlettered sign emblazoned on the library door which declared it so. Our library had been shut down - for the day! - for these festivities. Nevermind that school isn't over yet and our kids still need to read like crazy, we had a volunteer lunch to put on.
But let's get back to that sign. Because behind it was the essence of the message. The entire non-fiction half of the library had been swathed in soft folds of white fabric - think wedding tent - and there was a red walkway lined with sparkling white Christmas lights leading the to the entrance to the parent gala. The entire scene was reminiscent of the red carpet at the Oscars. There was a tuxedoed mannequin bowing in the doorway. I swear.
Our first instruction in the email was: "Write each of your volunteers a thank you note for all of the hard work they've done for you." Hmmmm...I never would have thought of that. It's a good thing they told me. I happily wrote my thank you notes and had them in hand when entering today's luxury soiree.
It was our second instruction that disturbed me: "Wear black pants and a white shirt. You will be the servers for our lunch." Um, sorry.....what? I squinted and reread my direction. They were serious. They expected us to serve the parents as a waitstaff. You can imagine the collective excitement as my team (dressed in our uniforms, of course) entered the twinkling arch and passed into...wonderland. The library had been transformed into a sheer wonderland. The furniture was swathed in yards and yards of soft tulle. Soft, twinking white lights sparkled around the room and over tables to create a soft glow that permeated the atmosphere...the white covered tables had centerpieces comprised of crystal vases containing soft petaled flowers floating gently on the surface. The vases sat on mirrors and were flanked by tall pillar candles flickering in the semi-darkness. It was romantic, really.
After some not-so-subtle staring, we were quickly startled back into reality by the sound of our counselor and assistant principal snapping their fingers for us to hop to it. There were hungry, hard-working parent volunteers waiting to be served. These people people had copied papers and passed out flyers! They were famished! We rushed over to the - catered - lunch and reached for the plates. Which is where I nearly organized a wait staff strike.
There was a stack of large, black, shiny plates and there was a stack of smallish, white, 100-for-a-dollar styrofoam plates. The stacks were explicitly labeled with arrows. An arrow pointed to the black plates reading, "For the parent volunteers" and an arrow pointed to the white plates reading "For the teachers." Was this an intentional act of humiliation directed at the teachers? Could we be belittled in any other manner? Perhaps we could eat in the cafeteria with the kids? Could we shine your shoes while you eat?
I bit my tongue, took a deep breath and began serving. First, I took a drink order and then I filled plates, serving both to my parents, before humbly returning to the serving line to serve my own (white, styrofoam) plate with what remained of the food. All this under the watchful eye of the guidance counselor. The meal was fine, my parents were great, I made innumerable self-deprecating remarks about my humble servitude, but good grief. I had not expected something quite like that. What kind of world am I teaching in? Is this normal? I certainly can't wait to find out what tomorrow's event is. Maybe I'll get to wash parents' cars!
*It is important to note that while I am snarky and sarcastic on my blog, I really am a quite pleasant teacher at school. I do not harm children's psyches and am actually quite loveable.
So. My school has taken the lack of respect for teachers to an entirely new level. Teacher "Appreciation" Week is over and finished......enter Parent Volunteer Appreciation Week. No, I'm not kidding. Our counselor and secretaries were in charge of today's Volunteer Luncheon, a fine idea I think. I appreciate the parents who have volunteered more than anything in the world. Every year I have always written them personal and sincere notes of thanks accompanied by a nice plant. [Note: Though parents in K-3 are biting at the bit to be helping in the classroom and go on field trips, the novelty tends to wear off in the upper grades when the curriculum gets harder than they prefer to help with, the copy pile grows larger, and the kids start to become embarrassed by their hovering mommies.]
On to today's lunch. Since my room mom quit in December, I had five parents to thank for various tasks with which they have been a tremendous help. I invited them to the luncheon as instructed by the organizers and wrote it on my calendar. End of thought, right? Right! Until last week, when the luncheon planners kicked into overdrive and became intoxicated with the power and glory of organizing the event of the year: the school volunteer lunch.
We received an email filled with very explicit instructions. I read it carefully, and not without awe. I had never seen such specificities go into what I thought to be a fairly inconsequential event. Silly me....silly, silly me. This lunch had a theme. (our yard sale-esque teacher raffle last week did not, in fact, have a theme, in case you were curious.) "Puttin' On the Ritz", today's lunch was called. I know, because there was a handlettered sign emblazoned on the library door which declared it so. Our library had been shut down - for the day! - for these festivities. Nevermind that school isn't over yet and our kids still need to read like crazy, we had a volunteer lunch to put on.
But let's get back to that sign. Because behind it was the essence of the message. The entire non-fiction half of the library had been swathed in soft folds of white fabric - think wedding tent - and there was a red walkway lined with sparkling white Christmas lights leading the to the entrance to the parent gala. The entire scene was reminiscent of the red carpet at the Oscars. There was a tuxedoed mannequin bowing in the doorway. I swear.
Our first instruction in the email was: "Write each of your volunteers a thank you note for all of the hard work they've done for you." Hmmmm...I never would have thought of that. It's a good thing they told me. I happily wrote my thank you notes and had them in hand when entering today's luxury soiree.
It was our second instruction that disturbed me: "Wear black pants and a white shirt. You will be the servers for our lunch." Um, sorry.....what? I squinted and reread my direction. They were serious. They expected us to serve the parents as a waitstaff. You can imagine the collective excitement as my team (dressed in our uniforms, of course) entered the twinkling arch and passed into...wonderland. The library had been transformed into a sheer wonderland. The furniture was swathed in yards and yards of soft tulle. Soft, twinking white lights sparkled around the room and over tables to create a soft glow that permeated the atmosphere...the white covered tables had centerpieces comprised of crystal vases containing soft petaled flowers floating gently on the surface. The vases sat on mirrors and were flanked by tall pillar candles flickering in the semi-darkness. It was romantic, really.
After some not-so-subtle staring, we were quickly startled back into reality by the sound of our counselor and assistant principal snapping their fingers for us to hop to it. There were hungry, hard-working parent volunteers waiting to be served. These people people had copied papers and passed out flyers! They were famished! We rushed over to the - catered - lunch and reached for the plates. Which is where I nearly organized a wait staff strike.
There was a stack of large, black, shiny plates and there was a stack of smallish, white, 100-for-a-dollar styrofoam plates. The stacks were explicitly labeled with arrows. An arrow pointed to the black plates reading, "For the parent volunteers" and an arrow pointed to the white plates reading "For the teachers." Was this an intentional act of humiliation directed at the teachers? Could we be belittled in any other manner? Perhaps we could eat in the cafeteria with the kids? Could we shine your shoes while you eat?
I bit my tongue, took a deep breath and began serving. First, I took a drink order and then I filled plates, serving both to my parents, before humbly returning to the serving line to serve my own (white, styrofoam) plate with what remained of the food. All this under the watchful eye of the guidance counselor. The meal was fine, my parents were great, I made innumerable self-deprecating remarks about my humble servitude, but good grief. I had not expected something quite like that. What kind of world am I teaching in? Is this normal? I certainly can't wait to find out what tomorrow's event is. Maybe I'll get to wash parents' cars!
*It is important to note that while I am snarky and sarcastic on my blog, I really am a quite pleasant teacher at school. I do not harm children's psyches and am actually quite loveable.
Tuesday, May 10, 2005
Optimism?? What's this?
Despite the fact that the kids are still incredibly wonky and I continued to act like my mother all day, there were some positive trends today! That's right, swivel those heads on back here, I'm going to be positive! Not perky, mind you, just a little on the bright side for something new. I'm trying it out. Let me know what you think.
First of all, I just won a very satisfying tennis match. I channeled all of my negative sentiment from my darling pumpkinheads at school and pounded that ball. It was simply glorious, that win. Tennis has become a sheer delight in my life. And...AND! I finally won my first trophy last night! I haven't won a trophy since I played t-ball when I was five and my own dad coached and put me so far in the outfield that I had to be waved in because I was too far away to hear. But back to my trophy! I won second place in my league:
Oh, yeah baby! She's a fox, isn't she? I finally won something! I almost took it to school today for show and tell, then quickly recovered my senses.
On to positive thing #2. A parent wrote me a thank you note. I'm totally serious. It's as though they were reading my blog! (Which they'd better not be because I have taken immense precautions against that.) A real thank you note...with a little Glade Plug-in device for my pleasure. Now, was that expensive? No. Thoughtful? Very! I always tell the kids not to take their shoes off because their feet stink! [My teammate allows them no shoes during testing...I disagree heartily.] So, clearly, that is the impact I have made upon this child. She taught me how to write? Nah.... Read? Silly... She said our feet stink!! That's interesting and important, so that must be what gets repeated at home. I've taken the liberty of wielding the black bar to protect the innocent:
Seems like that would be enough, no? It continues...
So, I've gotten what I wanted. That was all I wanted from Teacher Appreciation Week. Nevermind that there are 43 others...I got my one acknowledgment and I have been properly thanked. For those parents taking note - this is the way to do it. Not used goods, not four Lifesavers, simply a nice note. It made my day.
First of all, I just won a very satisfying tennis match. I channeled all of my negative sentiment from my darling pumpkinheads at school and pounded that ball. It was simply glorious, that win. Tennis has become a sheer delight in my life. And...AND! I finally won my first trophy last night! I haven't won a trophy since I played t-ball when I was five and my own dad coached and put me so far in the outfield that I had to be waved in because I was too far away to hear. But back to my trophy! I won second place in my league:
Oh, yeah baby! She's a fox, isn't she? I finally won something! I almost took it to school today for show and tell, then quickly recovered my senses.
On to positive thing #2. A parent wrote me a thank you note. I'm totally serious. It's as though they were reading my blog! (Which they'd better not be because I have taken immense precautions against that.) A real thank you note...with a little Glade Plug-in device for my pleasure. Now, was that expensive? No. Thoughtful? Very! I always tell the kids not to take their shoes off because their feet stink! [My teammate allows them no shoes during testing...I disagree heartily.] So, clearly, that is the impact I have made upon this child. She taught me how to write? Nah.... Read? Silly... She said our feet stink!! That's interesting and important, so that must be what gets repeated at home. I've taken the liberty of wielding the black bar to protect the innocent:
Seems like that would be enough, no? It continues...
So, I've gotten what I wanted. That was all I wanted from Teacher Appreciation Week. Nevermind that there are 43 others...I got my one acknowledgment and I have been properly thanked. For those parents taking note - this is the way to do it. Not used goods, not four Lifesavers, simply a nice note. It made my day.
Monday, May 09, 2005
Channeling Mom
Somehow, the longer this school year gets, the more I sound like my mother. I spent my day hounding children. Nagging them. General browbeating of youth.
A sampling of some of the things that came out of my mouth:
-"That is the third time I have said your name!"
-"Have you heard a word I said?"
-"Put four legs on the floor!"
-"Zip it!"
-"How many times have I asked you not to __________?"
-"I'm not talking just to hear my head rattle!"
-"I mean it!" [snap, snap] "Go!"
-"I gave you directions and I expect you to follow them!"
It was outrageous. All. Day. Long. I nagged children. Not because I wanted to! Because they have checked out. What they don't realize is that I, too, am dying to check out, but I can't just yet. They have a huge project due in ten days that we are publishing to the entire school. Do they care? Nuh uh. But did you know that Blair likes Jordan? Because that's important. Soon I surpassed mom-isms and launched into Old Cranky Teacher-isms.
-"I hope you're enjoying your recess now, because this is all you're going to get today."
-"Your parents will be very interested to hear about this tonight."
-"We do not sit out here and play. You have a job to do. Get busy!"
-"I'm sorry...did I tell you to sit out here and socialize? Because I meant for you to work."
When I start using the word "we" it is usually quite sarcastic and implies that they are being babies. When I start apologizing, I'm exceptionally foul. I actually felt terrible everytime something new and cranky came out of my mouth, but it could not be helped. It simply couldn't. It was a genuine reflex. You would think that I would have taken a lot of money from the kids today from their accountability budgets. Nope. I gave money to spite the bad ones. How's that for taking lemons and, well, being sour. I didn't really make any lemonade. I just heaped financial glory on the kids who were doing right and they reveled in it all day. But I only did it to make the naughty twerps feel bad. Ah, well.
Time to wrap it up. I've teacher snapped at dear Mike twice now to get him to leave me alone and he just crept in here and raised his hand to ask if I'd like one eggroll or two. What a trooper.
A sampling of some of the things that came out of my mouth:
-"That is the third time I have said your name!"
-"Have you heard a word I said?"
-"Put four legs on the floor!"
-"Zip it!"
-"How many times have I asked you not to __________?"
-"I'm not talking just to hear my head rattle!"
-"I mean it!" [snap, snap] "Go!"
-"I gave you directions and I expect you to follow them!"
It was outrageous. All. Day. Long. I nagged children. Not because I wanted to! Because they have checked out. What they don't realize is that I, too, am dying to check out, but I can't just yet. They have a huge project due in ten days that we are publishing to the entire school. Do they care? Nuh uh. But did you know that Blair likes Jordan? Because that's important. Soon I surpassed mom-isms and launched into Old Cranky Teacher-isms.
-"I hope you're enjoying your recess now, because this is all you're going to get today."
-"Your parents will be very interested to hear about this tonight."
-"We do not sit out here and play. You have a job to do. Get busy!"
-"I'm sorry...did I tell you to sit out here and socialize? Because I meant for you to work."
When I start using the word "we" it is usually quite sarcastic and implies that they are being babies. When I start apologizing, I'm exceptionally foul. I actually felt terrible everytime something new and cranky came out of my mouth, but it could not be helped. It simply couldn't. It was a genuine reflex. You would think that I would have taken a lot of money from the kids today from their accountability budgets. Nope. I gave money to spite the bad ones. How's that for taking lemons and, well, being sour. I didn't really make any lemonade. I just heaped financial glory on the kids who were doing right and they reveled in it all day. But I only did it to make the naughty twerps feel bad. Ah, well.
Time to wrap it up. I've teacher snapped at dear Mike twice now to get him to leave me alone and he just crept in here and raised his hand to ask if I'd like one eggroll or two. What a trooper.
"Yo mama so fat..."
This must be the kind of electrical tape you buy when you want to simultaneously tape someone's mouth shut and subject them to offensive verbal banter. I'm sure there are many situations in which this is handy. I bought personally bought this package to help me endure the last 15 days of school.
Sunday, May 08, 2005
Can Someone Please Tell Me...
What valuable ingredient has been added to boxes of cereal that warrants the price gauging that exists in the breakfast aisle? Do you know that cereal costs $4-5 a box?? It's cereal! It's flakes and oats. I think it's a plot. If you try to look for coupons for cereal, you have to buy three boxes to get the 25 cent savings. That's highway robbery. I can't eat three boxes of cereal before they are stale. I'm about to stoop to buying Nutty-O's in the big bag. I have a sneaking feeling that I'm going to be that parent who refills the Cocoa Puffs box with the contents of the Choc-O Rounds bag. Mwah-ah-ah!
Thursday, May 05, 2005
The One That's Not Funny
I don’t know if there’s a full moon tonight or not, but I saw excessive amounts of very unusual and frightening behaviors at school today. Most of them scared me. I don’t understand how there are so many young children with such huge problems.
I work at a very all-American middle class regular old school in a decent neighborhood with nice families. Today alone, I broke up two fights on the playground violent enough to involve blood and the nurse, was punched in the head while reasoning with a very loveable Autistic child who was having his second meltdown in 30 minutes over the definition of a vague science vocabulary word, spent 45 minutes of my day with only one child (who was suspended last week for hitting a teacher, then the next day she was back only to hit a sub in the head with her recorder, then pull her chair out from beneath her) trying to convince her to write one newspaper article without speaking Pikachu or meowing, and at the end of my day I witnessed 7 teachers bringing down and restraining one fourth grade ED student who had just knocked over a bookshelf and a (huge) printer and was heading out the door. After he started to scratch and bite, they sent someone for surgical gloves. He was angry over a lost paper. After 90 minutes, he was still growling in his throat like a rabid animal and tearing blinds off of the walls while being confined to one room by the 7 teachers, a principal, the counselor, and his mother. I finally left at 5:00, unable to help.
I can’t blame the environment…it’s pretty much been the same situation in all three of my schools, all drastically different populations. If I’m seeing this in elementary school, I can’t imagine what must be in middle and high schools. I was completely drained when I came home and I still have it on the brain four hours later. Is it a coincidence? Is it society? Is it like this in private schools? I’m utterly baffled – were things like this when I was a kid and I was just oblivious? Theories, please.
I work at a very all-American middle class regular old school in a decent neighborhood with nice families. Today alone, I broke up two fights on the playground violent enough to involve blood and the nurse, was punched in the head while reasoning with a very loveable Autistic child who was having his second meltdown in 30 minutes over the definition of a vague science vocabulary word, spent 45 minutes of my day with only one child (who was suspended last week for hitting a teacher, then the next day she was back only to hit a sub in the head with her recorder, then pull her chair out from beneath her) trying to convince her to write one newspaper article without speaking Pikachu or meowing, and at the end of my day I witnessed 7 teachers bringing down and restraining one fourth grade ED student who had just knocked over a bookshelf and a (huge) printer and was heading out the door. After he started to scratch and bite, they sent someone for surgical gloves. He was angry over a lost paper. After 90 minutes, he was still growling in his throat like a rabid animal and tearing blinds off of the walls while being confined to one room by the 7 teachers, a principal, the counselor, and his mother. I finally left at 5:00, unable to help.
I can’t blame the environment…it’s pretty much been the same situation in all three of my schools, all drastically different populations. If I’m seeing this in elementary school, I can’t imagine what must be in middle and high schools. I was completely drained when I came home and I still have it on the brain four hours later. Is it a coincidence? Is it society? Is it like this in private schools? I’m utterly baffled – were things like this when I was a kid and I was just oblivious? Theories, please.
Wednesday, May 04, 2005
AKA The Hairy Zit
Did you ever wonder what your reputation was around the workplace? I didn't, but today I'm afraid I found out anyway.
Our kids are working feverishly under a teacher-imposed deadline for the articles they are writing for their newpapers. They got to choose to work on a newspaper that featured Alamo news, literature news, or our school. The school newspaper is getting out of hand. We have already had to censor the advice column: Dear Addie Advice, My friends won't tell me what second base is. They make fun of me because I don't know. Will you tell me? Signed, Confused. We have also censored the Crime Report: The person behind the bathroom graffiti at our school has been caught! John Doe will get one day of ISS for writing Mrs. Smith is a %*&!@ on the bathroom wall in the fourth grade hall. We had to bring the kids to a stop on their Least Favorite Teacher survery before things really got out of hand.
After yesterday's Come to Jesus talk, the one of our groups decided to do an "Also Known As..." list about the teachers to show our true personalities. They shared the list with us at recess today. Some of my colleague's aliases included: The Boogie Woogie Fashion Queen, The New Britney Spears, and OU's Head Cheerleader. I eagerly awaited my own fresh, hip identity.
"What's mine?" I asked.
"Yours is The Wise Writing Wizard!" came the reply. I tried not to show my disappointment. The Writing Wizard? Come on. Why do I always have to be the geek? My teammate snickered at me and winked. Sure, she could giggle, she was Britney Spears.
I petitioned for a different, cooler name. One that was fabulous. One that encompassed my many fine qualities and stunning good looks. They thought. They huddled. They returned en masse to present me with my next identity.
"Your AKA is The Funny Stick!" They smiled proudly. I wrinkled my forehead in confusion.
"The Funny Stick?" I asked, trying not to hurt their feelings.
"You know, like funny bone....cause you're funny...but, you know, stick cause you're skinny..." the leader's voice trailed off as she squirmed uncomfortably. This was not going well. My teammate tried kindly to tell them that "stick" wasn't really a compliment. She suggested thin and slender before encouraging them to try other possibilities. She suggested that they think of other things they know about me. Off they went to brainstorm while I, the Funny Stick, sat on a bench and tried to see myself from someone else's viewpoint.
Soon they returned triumphantly and I looked up warily. This time, they surrounded me and threw their arms around my shoulders. Britney Spears looked on in obvious amusement.
"What's my name?" I asked apprehensively.
"The Beached Beagle!" they shouted, thrilled with their own cleverness. "Beached! Like a beached whale, because you love the beach and we made it beagle because of Gus!" They laughed and laughed. I sat on my bench with a vision of myself as a beached beagle looming before me. In the end, I meekly suggested that we just go back to the Writing Wizard, but it seems that time had passed. We were on to bigger, greener pastures here. Nothing could stop them now.
One of my little friends idly picked up a piece of mulch and then waved it excitedly in my face. "Have you met your relative?" she squealed. Unrivaled hilarity ensued.
"Heh," I mustered up. Britney Spears fluffed her hair and grinned. Maybe they will grow bored of this game soon.
I suspect that tonight's IM conversations might yield more clever AKA's for me. Perhaps if I'm lucky they'll include some of my finer qualities like my arm hair or a zit. One can dream.
Our kids are working feverishly under a teacher-imposed deadline for the articles they are writing for their newpapers. They got to choose to work on a newspaper that featured Alamo news, literature news, or our school. The school newspaper is getting out of hand. We have already had to censor the advice column: Dear Addie Advice, My friends won't tell me what second base is. They make fun of me because I don't know. Will you tell me? Signed, Confused. We have also censored the Crime Report: The person behind the bathroom graffiti at our school has been caught! John Doe will get one day of ISS for writing Mrs. Smith is a %*&!@ on the bathroom wall in the fourth grade hall. We had to bring the kids to a stop on their Least Favorite Teacher survery before things really got out of hand.
After yesterday's Come to Jesus talk, the one of our groups decided to do an "Also Known As..." list about the teachers to show our true personalities. They shared the list with us at recess today. Some of my colleague's aliases included: The Boogie Woogie Fashion Queen, The New Britney Spears, and OU's Head Cheerleader. I eagerly awaited my own fresh, hip identity.
"What's mine?" I asked.
"Yours is The Wise Writing Wizard!" came the reply. I tried not to show my disappointment. The Writing Wizard? Come on. Why do I always have to be the geek? My teammate snickered at me and winked. Sure, she could giggle, she was Britney Spears.
I petitioned for a different, cooler name. One that was fabulous. One that encompassed my many fine qualities and stunning good looks. They thought. They huddled. They returned en masse to present me with my next identity.
"Your AKA is The Funny Stick!" They smiled proudly. I wrinkled my forehead in confusion.
"The Funny Stick?" I asked, trying not to hurt their feelings.
"You know, like funny bone....cause you're funny...but, you know, stick cause you're skinny..." the leader's voice trailed off as she squirmed uncomfortably. This was not going well. My teammate tried kindly to tell them that "stick" wasn't really a compliment. She suggested thin and slender before encouraging them to try other possibilities. She suggested that they think of other things they know about me. Off they went to brainstorm while I, the Funny Stick, sat on a bench and tried to see myself from someone else's viewpoint.
Soon they returned triumphantly and I looked up warily. This time, they surrounded me and threw their arms around my shoulders. Britney Spears looked on in obvious amusement.
"What's my name?" I asked apprehensively.
"The Beached Beagle!" they shouted, thrilled with their own cleverness. "Beached! Like a beached whale, because you love the beach and we made it beagle because of Gus!" They laughed and laughed. I sat on my bench with a vision of myself as a beached beagle looming before me. In the end, I meekly suggested that we just go back to the Writing Wizard, but it seems that time had passed. We were on to bigger, greener pastures here. Nothing could stop them now.
One of my little friends idly picked up a piece of mulch and then waved it excitedly in my face. "Have you met your relative?" she squealed. Unrivaled hilarity ensued.
"Heh," I mustered up. Britney Spears fluffed her hair and grinned. Maybe they will grow bored of this game soon.
I suspect that tonight's IM conversations might yield more clever AKA's for me. Perhaps if I'm lucky they'll include some of my finer qualities like my arm hair or a zit. One can dream.
Monday, May 02, 2005
Uggs With Capris? Who knew?
Ah...lip has settled back into face. I spent my morning in a pretty extensive Benadryl haze, but at least my facial features have now returned to their appropriate size. Thank goodness that didn't happen at the wedding! How embarrassing to appear in someone's wedding photographs with a swollen lip! ("She's the fightin' one from the South!" they'd all whisper.) We were quite the only ones there from the South. I didn't realize I had an accent until I went to upstate New York! Who knew? [spoken with Brooklyn brogue, please.]
My friend who got married taught back home with me for 4 years, during which time I teased her mercilessly about her accent. Wow...turns out she just has a mild case. Ya'll...I think I met the Mafia! They might read this and come find me, but wow! It was awesome! Someone actually used the phrase "Fuhgetabutit" in a toast! I suddenly feel all mob-savoir-faire. 'Cause I'm sure that's actually a real thing. I drank some homemade wine that I think might have caused me some brain damage, but other than that, it was a really fun wedding. I learned some interesting things about people.
1. It apparently doesn't matter how cold it is outside, people wear the clothes that are appropriate for the name of the season. I shivered for many hours in my sleeveless dress and sandals, but I looked darn cute doing it.
2. I know this is a generalization, but people in the North seem to drink a lot of liquor. And girls don't drink beer. Especially not from the bottle. Them's my roots showin'.
3. There are people who carry a lot of cash. We're talking rolls. With clips. Big ones. A lot of those people also have gold chains and pinky rings, but I'm not naming names.
4. Strangers are really, really nice. Especially if, say, your ride to the wedding never picked you up and so you had to ask someone else in the pew who you didn't know from Adam for a ride back. And they squeezed you into the back of their Geo and let you ride with them to the liquor store. With their wad of cash. That was really nice. Sometimes it's okay to talk to strangers.
5. Fashion seems to slow down in some places. I noticed it when I lived in Ohio, but I also saw it this weekend and it surprised me some of the things I saw. First, ponchos were like the shortest fad ever around here. Lasted first semester of this year and they were finished. They are still all the rage in Syracuse! Of course, I also saw people wearing Uggs with capris, LL Bean barn coats with dresses, and chunky heels, so maybe I'll not judge them on their poncho delay. Had I but known, I could've gotten one more wear out of mine! Had I but known.
So basically, I had a really fun weekend and learned new things. I met lots of nice people and got to experience new things. (Oh, the wedding cookies! That is a tradition I can get into!)
My friend who got married taught back home with me for 4 years, during which time I teased her mercilessly about her accent. Wow...turns out she just has a mild case. Ya'll...I think I met the Mafia! They might read this and come find me, but wow! It was awesome! Someone actually used the phrase "Fuhgetabutit" in a toast! I suddenly feel all mob-savoir-faire. 'Cause I'm sure that's actually a real thing. I drank some homemade wine that I think might have caused me some brain damage, but other than that, it was a really fun wedding. I learned some interesting things about people.
1. It apparently doesn't matter how cold it is outside, people wear the clothes that are appropriate for the name of the season. I shivered for many hours in my sleeveless dress and sandals, but I looked darn cute doing it.
2. I know this is a generalization, but people in the North seem to drink a lot of liquor. And girls don't drink beer. Especially not from the bottle. Them's my roots showin'.
3. There are people who carry a lot of cash. We're talking rolls. With clips. Big ones. A lot of those people also have gold chains and pinky rings, but I'm not naming names.
4. Strangers are really, really nice. Especially if, say, your ride to the wedding never picked you up and so you had to ask someone else in the pew who you didn't know from Adam for a ride back. And they squeezed you into the back of their Geo and let you ride with them to the liquor store. With their wad of cash. That was really nice. Sometimes it's okay to talk to strangers.
5. Fashion seems to slow down in some places. I noticed it when I lived in Ohio, but I also saw it this weekend and it surprised me some of the things I saw. First, ponchos were like the shortest fad ever around here. Lasted first semester of this year and they were finished. They are still all the rage in Syracuse! Of course, I also saw people wearing Uggs with capris, LL Bean barn coats with dresses, and chunky heels, so maybe I'll not judge them on their poncho delay. Had I but known, I could've gotten one more wear out of mine! Had I but known.
So basically, I had a really fun weekend and learned new things. I met lots of nice people and got to experience new things. (Oh, the wedding cookies! That is a tradition I can get into!)
Lip Takes Over Face
Very quickly...Monday morning. Returned from fabulous trip to rest nicely. Woke up to find lip frighteningly swollen. Can see own lip sticking off face. Clearly not a good way to start a Monday. Perhaps related to not taking allergy medicine all weekend, as there is nothing to be allergic to in upstate New York. Everything cold and unbloomed. Right side of lip may be taking over face. Possible terrorist lip situation on deck. Unsure what to do. Took Benadryl and allergy medicine...plan to exist in coma-like state for duration of day. Possibly will let lip teach; lip seems to be developing into its own entity anyhow. Will keep an eye on it today. Literally.
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