Job Hazard

"Mrs! Mrs! You're back! Where were you?" Anxious voices greeted me from every direction as I was plied with hugs and pats. I apparently traumatized 40 small children with my absence, though they were quick to ask me why I didn't give them "fun pages" like the sub did. Harumph.
Smack! A small figure plowed into me at top speed and grasped me firmly around the waist.
"I missed you!" it said, muffled into my belly, from whence it spoke. I grasped its head and gently pried it off of my stomach.
"You cut your hair!" I noticed with a smile to my little cuddle-bunny. She shook her hair out with glee to show me the new do in all its glory. "And you dyed it blonde!" A peculiar yellow sheen glowed from within her roots. She buried her head back into my core and attempted to squeeze the life out of me while wallering her blonde tresses all over my shirt.
"Ish fhrom eh eyesh ampu," I heard.
"Say it again? Not to my stomach?" I requested, checking out her newly shorn locks.
"It's from the lice shampoo!" she squealed with a grin. "Doesn't it look cooooooool? It's dyed like my mom's!"

Captain Obvious

I feel obligated to write something, since few seemed to appreciate my "crusty nose and boogers" post yesterday. I was in the throes of deepest nastiness and needed to share. I really thought that taking today off would be some magical cure-all for this unsightly cold. I expected to show up to Open House tonight all bright-eyed and bushy tailed, ready to go. Not so much.

Open House went really well! We tried something new in our presentation that didn't involve a microphone or a stage [my two fears rolled into one: public speaking and strong odds of tripping] and it really seemed to be effective. I guess we'll find out tomorrow.

Can you believe I don't have any oddwad parent stories? They were all really pleasant and well-mannered. At the end, I was only bumrushed by three parents attempting to monopolize all of my time. Not too shabby! So that brings us to something that troubles me.

[abrupt change of subject] Why is it necessary to inscribe the directions "Slide finger under flap" atop every cardboard box containing a food product? Did someone along the way really struggle with that? Really? I just have a hard time seeing that. My day today was so pleasant that that, my friends, is the most troublesome thought that I have on my mind just now.

How ya like them apples?

-ContentPig

Grody to the Max

It's a shame that I was grossnasty sick today and didn't have much of a sense of humor. I'm in that stage of a cold where I, the possessor of said cold, am particularly foul. As in crusty nose and choky cough foul. As in, wiped the nose so many times that it's not only red, but overuse has created a SnotZit just below the nostril. A SnotZit which seems to refill and heave with new life whenever I blow my nose again.

Blowing the nose is treacherous on the makeup. I went to the bathroom around....wait a minute. I don't think I went to the bathroom today. My Sudafed must be dehydrating me to the point that the two bottles of water didn't make it through me. So, I must have looked in the mirror not in the bathroom, but via a clandestine peek into the compact after I erupted SnotZit for the second time. Right. That was it because a little darling told me my face was bleeding. Silly me.

I tried to poke and prod and apply pressure, just as the magazines say, but to no avail. That's how I came to be Big Chief Bleeding Face teaching a mini-lesson in writing to the class across the hall. This would, of course, be the first time I've taught this bunch of kids and I look like some kind of leprosy-ridden snot machine with a kleenex stuck to her face. And kids aren't so good with the subtleties. Also, there were two of my colleagues watching me teach this lesson during this, my time of little pride and much mucus.

So I taught. We brainstormed ideas for the Best Day I Ever Had, the remnant of an old writing test prompt.

Me: So tell me. What would make a day stand out for you? What would make it your best day ever?

Kid #1: Are you sick?

Me: Yes! So this is obviously not my best day ever. What would make it my best day?

Kid #2: Well, you got a boyfriend?

Me: No, no I don't...who can think of another idea? [colleagues snickering into hands, probably questioning the sanctity of my marriage]

Kid #2: 'Cause if you had a boyfriend, he might not care what you look like.

Me: [Staring at kid. Was he serious?]

Kid #2: You pretty! You just don't feel good today. Tha's all. You have your best day maybe tomorrow.

Me: Uhhhh....

So, I think he meant well. It's more amusing to me now than it was in the moment. We eventually established my best day to be somewhere at an amusement park on a big rollercoaster and not, in fact, right here at school with a Kleenex adhered to my face. I'm certain I made a great impression on those kids. I'd love to be a fly on the wall when they go home tonight and tell their parents what they learned today.

For the record, I'm taking tomorrow off. I procured my favorite old lady/retired teacher type and left thorough lesson plans and copious thanks. Then I have to go back to school for Open House tomorrow night. Joy of all joys...

-SnottyPig

Vile Infirmity

Oh my gosh, I'm so sick I think I'm dying. I had two hours of sleep last night. I spent the rest of the night struggling to breathe from any orifice. I'm not picky - just let me have one nostril or a mouth. My asthma inhaler revs me up and contradicts the NyQuil which was slowing me down and all of that was probably compromised by the two teaspoons of Robitussin I desperately took at 4am when I thought I was going to choke to death in the kitchen. And now I am a freakish combination of jittery, drowsy, wheezy and anxious.

I'm anxious because I detest getting sick on a weekend because there's not a doctor option unless I go to Urgent Care, which I hate. I also hate that I don't know how I will feel tomorrow, the second Monday of school when I really need to be at work because we are starting all kinds of important stuff. Also, I am going to be out on Friday, which will be further complicated by my being out on Monday. Growl.

Overnight, I watched every single recorded event on my TiVo and read the book The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants. (v. cute, by the way) I only left the couch to get more juice or to pee. Gus ate somewhere between 3 and 9 of my used Kleenexes. He was on high alert overnight for any falling cotton product and I was too medicated to care. Now he's sleeping it off with a stomach-full of my snot and germs. Nasty dog.

I am now completely exhausted from being away from my couch sanctuary for so long and must return to its welcoming sinky cushiony goodness. I'm going to curl up with Gus and wallow in self-pity for a while. Then I might eat some toast. I feel as though someone has taken a bristle brush, shoved it down my throat and roughed up my lungs, then finished it off with a good scrubbing of my nose. Wahhhh!

-SickPig

Mr. Owens Has Left the Building

I introduced you to Mr. Owens yesterday. You may wish to familiarize yourself with him, as I'm thinking he may become one of my primary characters this school year. Today he spiced up his vocabulary quiz by stating the appropriate definition followed by the words, "Ding! Ding! Ding! Whoooooop! Whoooooop! Mr. Owens gets the right answer and is named the Vocabulary Master!" He really livens up the paper grading process. I look forward to his paper in the stack just to see what he did that day. His sense of humor really helps me to overlook his inability to raise his hand in class. He's simply teeming with ideas, this child, and they just erupt forth at will. Now if I can just hone them into a composition, we could really have a live one on our hands in writing this year!
Happy Friday to you all. I plan to rest and recover. I'm already sick with my first cold. Argh!!

Diarrhea of the Mouth

Well, I've managed to get some more SpEd time for Rocky, so this week has allowed me at last to get to know some of my other munchkins. I've got a kid who insists on being called Mr. Owens instead of by his first name. He writes it on all of his papers and draws an arrow pointing to it which on the other side indicates his real name followed by the words "as you insist on calling me." I found another little ding dong who instead of copying the assignment from the screen, just write random words that she finds on the walls in various places on the worksheet. I have a set of twins who are apparently deaf to the sound of their own names, but jump when they hear the word "snack" mentioned in class. I have approximately 47 crickets dwelling somewhere in my classroom who like to sing during quiet times, but only leap out from under cabinets while I'm trying to teach. I've had to impose a Cricket Chasing Tax into my checkbook behavior management system. If the weather doesn't cool off to below healthy breathing levels soon, my sanity is going to be destroyed by the evils of indoor recess. At any given time in class, I can give a direction verbally, write it on the board, and perform it in interpretive dance and there will always be 6-8 students who have no idea what to do and no idea how to remedy that situation. I dream at night about practicing walking in the hall in a quiet fourth grade line. Once my students in my dream finally get it right, giant crickets leap from behind doors and undermine all of my efforts. There is a teacher on my hall who insists on fouling our bathroom each morning with her morning poo who refuses to use the air sanitizer I so generously provided. Despite several clues, our sleuthing has not yet led us to the Phantom Stinker. I apologize for the stream of random thoughts, but while I'm at it I thought you'd like to know that I got obliterated in tennis last night, but I won tonight. I am far too tired to think about paragraphs, but I am looking forward to watching our sprinklers water the kids who stand in our driveway at their bus stop tomorrow morning. It's the small things that count.
Out.
-Pigs

Geography Rock

Thanks so much for the wonderful suggestions! I have already contacted a couple of local universities and I am waiting to hear back. I also asked for an IEP meeting to get him more services (haven't heard back yet) and emailed the special ed teacher two days ago (haven't heard back yet) and called my vice principal down to make sure she's clued in...SO! We'll see.

The thing with this kid is that he really, really does want to learn. Who wants to be picked on like that? He's motivated enough that he's willing to read The Monkey Bridge in front of his peers who are reading Harry Potter, it's just that he's not retaining any word recognition because he has no phonemic awareness. W? N? O? All the same to him. I am going to look around on the internet and see if I can at least find him a computer phonic game he could go in the hall and work on privately while the other kids are working. For now, at least.

And by the way, I'm pretty sure the mom is illiterate too. Someone else was supposedly doing the alleged homeschooling for five years....umkay. Absolute neglect, if you ask me, but I really don't think the mom knows any better. [See Rocky entry from last week to meet mom] But, anyway - thanks! I'll keep you posted.

In other news, I taught the rest of my 39 kids the genres of literature today. We talked about fiction vs. non-fiction and listed the various components of each. Were you aware that "funny", "sad", and "Captain Underpants" are considered literary genres by my students? We steered away from those and established that a biography was a form of non-fiction. I was trying to pry out of them what you call a biography about yourself when one child was suddenly struck with the answer. She threw her arm enthusiastically into the air and yelled, "OOOH! I know! Geography!" Yeah....

That's about all I have. I hope the 100 degree weather decides to take a break soon. I'm ruining all my good clothes sweating in them at recess every day. Ta ta!

-Pigs

NofairNofairNofair!

I have a No Child Left Behind dilemma for you. I'd like some feedback on this one.

There's a - hypothetical - student, we'll call him Rocky, in the fourth grade. He was supposed to be in fourth grade last year, but after entering public school for the first time in his life, it was discovered that he couldn't actually read and he was sent back to third grade. He is now in fourth grade once again. Prior to last year he was homeschooled.

I have seen a great range of kids come out of homeschool, some amazingly far ahead of their peers and some tragically behind, but none so far behind as Rocky. This poor child is eleven years old and cannot read. Today we worked one on one - while there are 19 other kids for me to teach - on a kindergarten level 5 book and he was unable to read it. I could read it to him and he could memorize the simple, repetitive language with help from the picture cues, but he couldn't actually read individual words. (Monkey number one went over the river, Monkey number two went over the river, Monkey number three went over, etc.) After he read it to me once and himself five more times, I pointed to the word river and he said, "monkey." I pointed to the word roared and he said, "when."
He's tested into Special Ed and receives one half hour of services during my 2.5 hour class. How am I supposed to help this - sweet - hardworking child who has already been clearly left behind to achieve what NCLB dictates while ensuring that my other 19 students also reach their grade level specific goals? This kid already has me wrapped around his finger; he's so helpless and victimized that I really want to help him, but I have no idea what to do. There is no money for a special tutor, his parent is clueless and helpless herself, there is no time allowed in my day for one on one with him without sacrificing my other students, my before school tutoring time is already spoken for by tutoring for The Test (without pay, but that's another post).
All I have come up with is to possibly work with a first grade or kindergarten teacher to let him come be a "helper" during her reading group so that he can be exposed to the lessons he needs to hear. It would certainly benefit him more that my discussions of character analysis and plot development.
It's just really sad. He's a nice friendly kid who is going to wind up a drop out at 16 because of decisions that someone else made for him and a school district that doesn't have the money to help him. And it makes me feel snarky. Downright snarky.
Okay, I said feedback...your turn. Go!

Comedy, Confusion, and Crickets, Oh My!

Wow...this is probably the longest I have gone without posting in forever! This first week of school absolutely wiped me out. Whew! I'm almost recovered and ready for week two after sleeping nearly 12 hours both Friday and Saturday nights. Voila! I'm new again!

After four days of intense exposure and sleuthful observation, I think I have successfully determined this year's cast of characters in my class. We are featuring: One (1) turbo geek [bad...very, very unfortunate], One (1) non-reader [knows some of his letter sounds, though - yeah!], Fourteen (14) non-medicated hyperactive boys [just "all boy" types, nice kids, need training], One (1) possible sociopath [will elaborate later], One (1) perfect angel [will save me later, I'm sure], Two (2) children suffering from severe diarrhea of the mouth, and One (1) big 'ol crybaby.

It's not rare to see a fourth grader cry, especially at the beginning of the year, but it is rare to have a fourth grader cry big 'ol baby tears when their name doesn't get picked from the random drawing for the goodie box. And it is rare for that fourth grader to want to hold your hand - after they have sneezed on it, mind you - everywhere that you are walking. That is unusual.

Though it makes it perfectly understandable why I am already fighting off my first cold of the school year. If I want to stay well, I'm going to have to start being one of those hands-off kinds of teachers. I'm risking my health and well-being crawling around on the floor to sit with kids to read with me and doling out hugs and pats on the back like they are free. Sneer. I've got to toughen up and get my act together.

Another complication to my year so far is the hostile takeover that the crickets have performed on my school, my classroom in particular. If you read closely, you will remember my intense fear of anything legged. It has taken all manner of restraint this week to not have a breakdown anytime one of those black hairy legged leaping beasts soars across the classroom in the midst of a lesson. If you have ever been around a nine year old boy, you know that it has been scientifically proven that it is impossible for them to remain in their seat or keep their mouth closed when in sight of a hopping insect. It's simply in their genetic code, there is nothing I can do to change it, but still, I press on....hoping that maybe this particular lecture will sink in past the cricket sensor that seems to protect their ability to focus in class.

Here is a sampling of the phrases I have uttered most this week:

"Put what's in the air in the chair!"
"Let me see your eyes in five...four...three...two...one....thank you."
"Wow! I like the way ________ is ________ing!"
"Show me a fourth grade line! Hands and arms inside the cart!"
"Let's see if someone who was listening the first time can answer that question."

I think I say those things in my sleep. We're still in the part of the year in which the kids don't think I'm funny in the least. Some days I'm grateful I don't have a door because at least my teammates can hear the funny - FUNNY! - things I'm coming out with. I've had some great material this week just wasted on these little people. I can't wait for October when their little senses of humor start to develop just a smidge- they are so much more fun then.

Right now? Not so much fun. Their communications pretty much consist of:

"When's recess?" [Same time it was yesterday]
"Do we have to write in cursive?" [Same answer I gave yesterday]
"Can I go to the bathroom?" [Not until you ask in the way I taught you yesterday]
"How much longer are we going to do this?" [Until you stop asking inane questions]
"My dog? He's really cute? Wohl....this one time? He got away?" [intense stare until story ceases]
"I've got two things" [Pick your favorite and let's move along]

So, there I am. That's an update on week one. Overall, I think they will eventually be a decent bunch of kids. They're just in that untrained, youngish state right now that can be a bit frustrating if you don't maintain utmost patience, which is how I wind up asleep on the couch every day at 5. Cheers to a fresh week! May we learn new things and remember the ones I taught last week! Happy fresh week!

-Pigs

Wowza

Can't! Post! So! Tired!

Sorry for the lack of follow up on the first day of school. I would like to take this opportunity to retract my statement in my earlier post regarding this group of kids seeming like a great bunch. I was mistaken. The first week of school has really taken the wind out of my sails. Will promise to update on the little darlings by the weekend. I know you're waiting on the edge of your seats. Just teetering there, waiting to hear the story of the day. There are so many, I'm not sure where to begin.

On another note, I won my tennis match tonight, wahoo!!! More later. Happy Friday to everyone! (almost)

Last Year? I Got Free Lunch?

Oh, Lordy, Lordy.

Why must the first day of school always be quite such an experience? Why? I detest the first day of school. I guess the good news is that my least favorite day of the school year is over with. I just forget year after year how young the kids seem when they start fourth grade. Babies, they are! And sadly, not very bright this year. We've got some dim bulbs in the crowd. The mostly male crowd at that - I have 14 boys and 6 girls. Seems a little squirrelly, no?

The first problem with having so many boys is that nine year old boys like to turn anything into a gun and make that rapid fire machine gun noise with their mouths. Pass out the composition notebooks. R-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r! They aim the corners at one another and fire at will. And no teacher with an ounce of kindness wants to be the mean teacher on the first day. We don't start our management system until tomorrow to be nice. Just wait until tomorrow. [grips fists and cackles an evil laugh]

Here's the gist of today:

Lesson plan: Read story First Day Jitters about girl dreading school and being dragged there against her will. End of story find out girl is actually teacher. Talk about feelings, create first journal entry about first day.

Me: [mid-story reading aloud]

Punk Kid: It's gonna be the teacher! I've read this!

Me: [narrow eyes, deep breath, keep reading to end] So what did you think?

Disappointed faces. Point lost by punk spoiling fun ending. Small hand patting at my leg. I look down.

Kid #1: I get free lunch.

Me: Okay, thanks! We'll worry about that later. Sit up please! [smile and gesture at lounging youth]

Youth: [struggles to sit up, glares at me, lays back down]

Me: [roll eyes inwardly, proceed with journal modeling, send kids to seat to write own entry]

Kid #2: My mom didn't get me one of those notebooks. She got me this stuff instead. Can I use it?

Student has array of sparkly, light up school supply-like items bedazzling her desk, none of them actually resembling what was on the list. I sift through them, hoping for something, anything, that might function as a journal and only come up with a furry cat head shaped spiral number. She looks at me hopefully. I give her one of my notebooks instead and urge her to put the Hello Kitty aisle of WalMart away and get started.

I had written a nice little ditty about Gus chasing a rabbit this morning to get them going. A little modeling eases the 'ol fears. Unfortunately, it also loosens the 'ol tongue. I turned around to see eight hands waving in the air. I pointed hesitantly.

Me: Yes?

Kid #3: This one time? This summer? My dog?

Me: Great journal topic! Write it quick! Before you forget! [point again]

Kid #4: I've got two things. I was just gonna tell you that I have a puppy? And she's kinda bad?

Me: Awesome! Perfect for your journal, wow! Write! Hurry! [point]

Kid #5: Oh, um, my friend? Well, this one time? Her dog? He was sick?

Me: [cease all story telling, mute class, get them writing]

Kid #1: Mrs? I was wondering what to do about my free lunch? At lunch time?

Me: Well, you could write about it right now, then when we get to lunch, I promise it will be fine. [smile encouragingly, gesturing at journal]

I notice that one young man is choosing not to write, fake writing, or fake thinking about what to write. He's belligerently poking stuff inside his desk instead. I kneel beside his desk and talk quietly to him.

Me: Are you stuck for something to write about? [kindly]
Punk: shrug
Me: You have really pretty cursive. How long do you think you worked on it last year?
Punk: shrug
Me: Who was your teacher last year?
Punk: shrug

Well, this is getting me nowhere. He continued to be a punk for the rest of class and I chose to ignore his behavior temporarily. No need to ruin class the first day, afterall. Will worry about him tomorrow. I went to pick up a stack of folders to pass out while the little cherubs worked. Twenty heads snapped up to see what I was doing. Eleven hands shot into the air. Sigh. Be-nice-be-nice-be-nice-be-nice. My mantra ran through my head. I smiled and nodded at a child.

Kid #3: Last year? In third grade? We had those folders too.

Kid #5: My teacher? From last year? She gave us those folders for homework.

Kid #4: Those folders? I have mine like that? It's from last year?

My grip on the folders shifted ever-so-slightly and I felt the top one begin to slide off of the pile. Those fresh from the pack new folders are still shiny and incredibly slippery and before I knew what was happening, one folder after another after another cascaded seemingly in slow motion from my stack and crashed onto the floor one at a time until all sixty of them lay in all directions all over the floor. Titters of laughter threatened to burst forth all over the room. I giggled and shrugged my shoulders.

Me: Go ahead. [laugh as class begins applauding my grace, take deep bow]

The kids began to help me pick up the folders and I felt a hand tapping on my arm.

Kid #1: Is my free lunch form in those folders?

Sigh.

The Retraining Commences

Every single year without fail, I have to retrain my husband and my beagle when I return to the trenches of school. My husband loses his vacation from chores, his live-in maid, and his daily gourmet meal service. My beagle loses his buddy and companion who kept him from sleeping all day, thereby making him fatigued enough to stay out of trouble.

After just three short days of work, my house seems to have fallen apart. My husband will never be able to keep any secrets from me because of his incredible ability to leave a trail wherever he goes. I can wake up 3 hours after him and I can tell exactly what he has done all morning. It doesn't take a lot of sleuthing to discern that my pool bag on the washer with the SPF 8 beside it means that he lathered up on his way out the door to golf. I know, because he left all the evidence there plainly on the washer. Along with a pile that is the morning paper, sports removed and read and left on top, a granola bar wrapper, and yesterday's cup of orange juice remains. (this means he took a new cup with him and had to take the old one out of the car to make room.) The truth is, he's really not so bad. He just gets spoiled by me cleaning up after him all summer, which I didn't mind doing since I wasn't gainfully employed at the time. The dog, however, is a different story.

It is amazing how much the personality of a four year old beagle can abruptly be altered due to an excessive amount of sleep. Everyone knows that dogs sleep all day, but I've discovered that in the summer, I keep Gus awake just enough to knock the bad out of him. If he has that edge of sleepiness, he'd rather cuddle than, say, eat a roll of toilet paper, which is precisely what he did the other day when the exterminator left the bathroom door open, a veritable cotton smorgasboard for Gus. Since Wednesday, Gus has also gnawed through my hands-free cellphone earbud. He later opened the pantry door, grabbed a stack of napkins and spread them over the vast majority of the living room and dining room, racing back and forth with bits of Bounty Medley clinging to his exposed eyeteeth. A little later he absconded with three (3)different clean dishtowels. When left to his own devices, he viciously barked at, lunged toward, and savagely tore apart the branches of my favorite cactus plant. Finally, he laid waste to one (1) particularly necessary automobile insurance policy. Now? Now he's outside barking bloody murder at the combine which is collecting the corn from the field behind our house. The nerve of that guy.

These events occur like clockwork every year when I return to work. Only two months off, but it takes a good month and a half to retrain the household and restore it to normal.

Crossing My Fingers

Okay, folks. I know this is going to seem very strange, but I , SingingPig, have a lot of really positive stuff to report! Normally, this blog has become my place to vent my frustrations, particularly those about my school. I was actually looking forward to Meet the Teacher night a little bit, as it is always a great source of writing material. But things went great!

First, I have to redeem my poor guy teammate who I ridiculed shamelessly a few days ago for not having his room together. It turns out that a) he works tremendously well under pressure, and b) he really enjoys watching my blood pressure soar and considers it something of a game. His room came together perfectly just two hours before Meet the Teacher in a masculine/kid friendly/well-decorated, but not girly/actual theme. It's fabulous.

Meet the Teacher actually went really well! I have four or five repeat parents that I taught their siblings a couple years ago. I have several requests for me because of my world-renowned writing teacher rep. [snicker] There are parents in my class who are so far extremely friendly, involved, but not obnoxious. I am happy to report that I finally have some real, true diversity in my room this year which I've missed so much the last couple of years. Several kids told me that they liked to read and write!! A nine year old conversated with me at length about the new Harry Potter book. (WOW.) I only have one student who doesn't speak English, but he's polite and sweet and kind and didn't laugh when I spoke my slow, awkward Spanish to him and his mother.

I had only a few red flags to be reported. I have a definite heavy boy count. This will be very beneficial in the spring when all the girls are becoming catty and mean, but will mean more challenges at the beginning of the year. I have one entertaining family. Mom has six kids, most with different dads. Child can't exactly read, but shared his instructions for fighting with me.

Me: Are you ready to come back to school yet?
Rocky: No, but my mama tole me not to get in any fights this year.
Me: Well, I think that's a great idea! How about we try to make this year a good one!
Mom: When I was young, my mama always tole me to let the other person throw the first punch.
Rocky: She tole me to do the same thing. (stare)
Me: Well, I bet we won't need to worry about that here, will we? (smile)
Mom: 'Cept my mama tole me that after they threw that first punch that I should beat the shit out of 'em. I tole Rocky not to do that.
Rocky: I'm not spost to get suspended this year.
Mom: If you get suspended, it better be for a real good reason 'sall I got to say.
Me: Heh, heh....

So, Rocky's not really a stellar academic case, but he's got his plan ready at least. They seem to be expecting a brawl to arise, so I'd better keep my guard up. I hadn't realized previously that we were under attack.

But, really, overall it was great! I'm going to post my disclaimer here that there were 8 kids of my 20 who were no shows, so there are no guarantees. I'm certain that later in the year, I may regret being so positive, but for right this moment, I'm feeling darn skippy about starting school. Maybe the 8th time's a charm.

I Went Back to School Today

Upon returning to work and getting professionally developed for 6 hours, I learned a few things.

1. There are some people in the world that you could give a million dollars to and they would complain about the bills being folded the wrong way. They could win a car and they would want a different color. There are some people in this world who really thrive on being unhappy. We should not have to be around these people. They're like happiness vacuums.

2. Professional adults should not have to play get to know you activities that involve running. It's just silly and counterproductive. Especially when those people are diving into chairs a la Musical Chairs and pushing and shoving. And especially when there are questions about thongs. My school remains a mystery to me. Why can't we just shake hands and then go in our classrooms and work?

3. Men care nothing about decorating classrooms. I think there's something on the Y chromosome that prevents any urge to make a room look welcoming and comfortable. (We still have no progress on the room set up and we are officially at D-Day minus 5. My blood pressure is escalating.)

4. Adult parents can throw tantrums that are a pretty good imitation of a child's if their child is mistakenly put on a teacher's list other than the one they requested. It's not pretty.

5. Fourth graders have very poor phone skills. We had to call all of our students today and tell them that they were in our class. 12 of my 18 conversations went like this:

Me: Hi! I wanted to tell you that you're going to be in my class this year!

Kid: Uh huh.

Me: Welcome to 4th grade!

Kid: Yeah.

Me: I hope to see you at Meet the Teacher in a couple of days!

Kid: Bye.

Very deep, those nine year olds. At least that's done and over with. Now I can get on to real business. Except for I have about 12 more hours of being professionally developed standing in my way of actually getting ready for the school year. Bygones.

A Quick Read

Anyone who is still trying to understand must, MUST go read this over at Island Happy: No Child Left Behind, Basketball Style. It's hilarious and so true. I wanted to steal it for my own, but instead, go shower her with traffic.

Front bottom?

By the by...could I have some people share what they called their private parts when they were little? Or what you have your kids call them now? A friend of mine has a 15 month old who is starting to experiment with the joy of language. As much as my friend doesn't want to make up silly names for body parts, she also doesn't want her 15 month old yelling "vagina!" in the grocery store. I wasn't much help to her with my mom's "front bottom" vernacular, so I thought I'd turn to you for some aid. Plus, I really like bathroom humor.

An Ode to Summer

Summer, oh summer, you've been such a blast!
But why, oh why, must you go by so fast?
I filled you with trips and beaches and fun
I've spent much of you laying by the pool in the sun.

Those days when I said I was a little bit bored
I wasn't thinking! I'm wrong!
I wish those days could be stored...

Stored for the long weeks of torture and pain
When I have to hear choruses saying my name
Over and over like nails on a chalkboard,
So many voices whining in dischord.

I'll miss the long leisurely days that are warm
With time every day to keep my legs shorn
And to type out an email anytime that I like
Or to go to the store when the crowds are so light.

I need to start strengthening my bladder and voice
For soon the time will come when I haven't a choice
About talking all day or patrolling the halls
Or crossing my legs when nature calls.

Oh, summer I'll miss you; you've been such a treat.
If I can make it 'til next year, it'll be quite a feat.
In the meantime, I'll dream, reminisce and recall
the memories of you just to get through the fall.

Then report cards and conferences, assessments and more!
I can no longer dream, it's too much to ignore.
Until next year, summer, I bid you adieu.
I can't wait to see you and start you anew!

Four Eyes

It appears that I've reached a new nerd low. A post I wrote back in March has suddenly started receiving comments and a couple of bizarre emails. The post was about my new horrifically thick pair of glasses that I joked could start a forest fire. Apparently, that post has been picked up by some sort of Eyewear Discussion Board: Welcome to the EYESCENE. The discussion site with a different outlook on eyewear.

Some of their discussion threads include:

LensChat Much improved glasses-themed chat replaces the venerable hack formerly hosted here.
Those Girls with Glasses! Fun take on the subject is entertaining for GWGs and their admirers.
I only make passes at girls who wear glasses Databastard's site features a varied selection of screen caps.
High Myopic Girls An old favorite returns. Movies and pictures.

I'm all for one expressing their true geekdom. HOWEVER. I suspect this site crosses over into some fetish-ish ground. They are currently denying that my glasses could actually start a forest fire. I have received 480 hits from them in the last two days.

FOUR HUNDRED EIGHTY HITS. Think about that.

Durr...

So I was fully dressed this morning in my bathing suit for one of my final pool days of summer when I realized I had only shaved one leg. Do you have any idea how often I do this? It's ridiculous! And I'm not the kind of person who can go around in a bikini with one shaved leg. It would scare children. That's one good reason not to sing along to country CD's while in the shower. It's distracting.

An Answer at Last!

And why do men have nipples?

"While only females have mammary glands, we all start out in a similar way in the embryo, the authors explain. The embryo follows a female template until about six weeks, when the male sex chromosome kicks in.
Men, however, have already developed nipples."
-Yahoo News

Finally! I've always wanted to know that.

Thoughts A-Wanderin'

So, I pulled into my neighbor's driveway today and angrily pounded the garage door opener for its inability to open the door for a good minute or so before realizing I was at the wrong house. Aside from being next door to one another, our houses have nothing in common. Whoops.

And that was the most eventful thing that happened to me today. I blame it on the impending return to school that has my mind in a panic trying to make 245 mental lists of things I need to do next week.

Answer Key

Here are my answers to the questions listed below. After much discussion and corroboration with my peers, I feel that these are the most well-thought out responses.

1. If I had to dispose of a body.

Well, burning does not get rid of bones, acid is highly inaccessible, and volcanoes aren't that handy. If you are truly prepared for this situation at any given time, a plastic barrel, some concrete mix, chains and a truck are all you need. Fill the barrel with the body and the concrete mix. Carry it to the nearest, deepest lake, and dump it overboard. The water will fill the barrel, the chains will weigh it down, concrete will form, and the barrel will never rust or decompose, because it is plastic.

2. If I could only eat one meat.

I think the clear choice here is pork. Pork can assume many more forms than beef, poultry, or fish. You would quickly tire of the other three. Now, you might suffer a heart attack my way, but health wasn't a part of the question. I will be enjoying ground pork, pork chops, pork loin, ham, bacon, sausage, pork roast and many others.

3. If someone broke into my home.

This one I still struggle with. For me, the obvious choice is to trip my alarm, call the police and hide in the closet where I should store Gus' muzzle so he won't give me away. While fierce in spirit, Gus would be pretty useless against an intruder.
Some of my other friends suggested the use of throwing stars, a clearly viable option.

4. If I became homeless.

I think the best all around choice here is Wal-Mart a la Billie Letts' Where the Heart Is. Obviously could not be a 24 hour WalMart, though. Sleep in the camping section. Eat from the grocery sectio. Hide in the bathroom just before closing and opening. Voila!
Other options for me would include a department store a la Corduroy for a good night's sleep, or a museum a la The Mixed Up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler. Or a hotel conference center - free food and all. Plus, you could bathe in the jacuzzi/pool. Nice.

I'm sure each of these plans has holes. Feel free to tear them apart. Makes great conversation.