Swamped

I am simply swamped. I have two Soap Opera Digests (free weekly from a parent at school, going on three years now) and an Us Weekly to read, plus I'm in the middle of two books and there are 5 events saved on my TiVo that I need to view. What's a girl to do? Well, this one apparently sits down to type on her blog. And you know what I want to talk about? Ear buds.

That's right, ear buds. These things, these Bluetooth headsets, or whatever they are, have gotten seriously out of control. In what realm is it necessary for an individual to be so tightly bound to their phone that they permanently attach it to their ear? These things boast 15 hours of wireless talk time! Can people no longer waste the 2 precious seconds it might take to answer the actual cellular phone that is ringing in their pocket? When did we become weird freaky robot-looking things that walk around with phones hooked to their ears?

What really kills me about these is the Aura of Eternal Rudeness that they provide the user. I was in a restaurant the other day and - remember I casually eavesdrop stare unabashedly at strangers in public, much to the chagrin of my husband - there was this guy, Mr. Cool. Well. He had one of these jobbies attached to his ear whilst he waited with a small group of friends for a table. They had margaritas...they were chatting, laughing...having a good time! Was he on the phone? No, just wearing it as an accessory. An accoutrement, if you will. Do you know what an idiot he looked like? He thought he was the bee's knees, buddy. Drove me insane.

Then I have this parent at school. We'll call him The BusinessMan. He wants everyone to know that he's the BM too (Hee! I said BM...sorry, bathroom humor. Now I'm all tickled and giggly) and so prior to entering my classroom to talk about his child, he rattles off some BM Talk sternly into his phone accoutrement, a la Donald Trump in his limo on the Apprentice. ["Right! Right! It's a done deal! Deliver that message! Hold my calls! I'm in a meeting!"] With alien-like earpiece still attached to his head, he then disinterestedly runs through the parent-teacher meeting protocol in a bored and droning voice, not really hearing anything I say and generally speaking over me. ["Right....right....so my boy is doing what he's supposed to? Homework in? Acting right? Good...good....well, thanks for your time, Mrs.] Ugh. I hate those things. Shudder.

Well, that helped me procrastinate my haunting commitments that are keeping me swamped for a few minutes. It's back to the grind for me, back to the grind.

That's Hot

Mr. Owens: Mrs! Mrs! Mrs! Guess what? [comes bounding into classroom in jackrabbit fashion]
Me: Good grief, what? Did you have coffee?
Mr. Owens: No. [confused, but shakes it off] I did it! I finished my paper! [waves in the air]
Me: Great! Good for you! What paper? [teasing]
Mr. Owens: [look of horror] What?! You know! The one - the one! You said! The one that I couldn't have recess until - you KNOW! [sheer panic takes over face]
Me: I know....just kidding. Here, let's see it.
Mr. Owens: [instant calm] Oh. Okay. Well. Here? Here's where it starts getting unreadable. [goes to unpack belongings, leaving me with "unreadable" paper]
Me: Ummmmm.....[squinting at hieroglyphics]
Mr. Owens: What? You just said finish it! [smiles, walks from room]

What the heck? Sometimes this kid leaves me in stitches, other times I want to wring his neck. This would be the latter. At the end of the day, he redeemed himself. The kids came back in from PE where Mr. Owens had apparently spent a very vigorous 45 minutes. I took in his general sweaty, red-faced appearance and laughed.

Me: Man, you're hot!
Mr. Owens: [cheeky grin] Thank you.
Me: Bah?!

"Where you gonna put a tree that size, Griswold?"

Ah, decorating. Tis the season to be merry. ("That's my name!" Name that movie reference!) It's especially challenging when you have a beagle. I recommend getting creative with your gifts. Wrap them with pretty bows and they double as decor. Gifts cannot be placed traditionally under the tree in a beagle household, oh no no no...they must be elevated for safe keeping. Hidden from view and bound by large ribbons, the presents stand a higher chance of actually making it to their intended recipient without having to be rewrapped, tethered, or rigged before the big day. So, height is key.

It is also very very important to place any gifts containing any type of food product at at least a four to six foot height. It doesn't matter how well you think it's wrapped or sealed, they will find it. Trust me. Well, me and my grandfather's peanut goodies that Gus enjoyed two years ago. It is also important to assess the Shockability of your beagle. Mine? Seems to be pretty tough since he has chewed through the bottom third of the lights on our Christmas tree. This results in our "rigging" said [pre-lit] tree with additional strands of lights to disguise the fact that it's maimed. It's really classy, I gotta tell you. And of course, never place anything breakable or edible (even if you think it's not edible) within any range of the beagle. That should take care of tips for beagle owners. Now onto bigger and better things.

My superfun ornaments! I'm going to share only a couple of my favorites. We will begin with Harley the Horrid. He's a beer guzzlin' rabble rouser who needs his own space on my tree. There's only a few ornaments who can really hold their own around Harley. He's even scrapped with Gus a time or two. I think he's a real firecracker. I hang him mighty close to LuLu to keep him in line. LuLu's one of those girls you don't want to wake up next to in the morning. I picked her up at the beach one year, someone's idea of a wonky craft, but I think she's the true spirit of Christmas. A dried up fish puffed up into a bird with jiggly eyes and a pokey-out tail? Come on, what more could you want?


Ho, ho, ho! That's just a taste of the beauts on my tree this year. I'd like to think that my ornament collection rivals my tacky pen collection. The trick is that I can pull off a darned classy looking Christmas tree with all of the tacky goodness blended right in. Now that's decorating talent. The trick is to keep Gus away from the glory of it. It has been scientifically proven that a beagle can wreck six hours of Christmas decorating in 7.8 seconds. Not something to fool around with, my friends.

I Like Some Stupid People

I just spent about 45 minutes of my life doing the very thing that urges me to complete all of my Christmas shopping before Thanksgiving every year: waiting. I am not good at waiting. Waiting is boring. I hate waiting. I also hate stupid people. Okay, that's kind of a generalized statement, there are actually quite a few stupid people whom I really like, so I guess what I'm saying is that I hate stupid people I don't know. So there I am waiting and surrounded by stupid people that I don't know.

It all began when I finished my holiday decorating and realized that I have absolutely nothing with which to adorn my kitchen table. Well! We can't have that, since my entire Sunday School class is coming over for dessert in two weeks - shah! Hence my trip to Hobby Lobby. Now let's talk about Hobby Lobby for a second. First of all, I think it has a really stupid name. At least they spelled both words correctly, unlike Kwik Kar, but that's about all it has going for it. Unfortunately, despite not liking it I find myself going there at least every other month or so because it's way closer to my house than Michael's, and I'm just a crafty kinda gal, and I am oft in need of crafty kinda supplies.

Upon arriving, I parked in Egypt and joined the swarms of folks headed to the Lobby. It was when I got inside and entered the Christmas aisles that I was fully exposed to the after Thanksgiving shoppers. Now, my friend Cousineddie loves, loves to shop on Black Friday. She gets some kind of weird high off of the crowds and the sales. I don't know what's wrong with her. I get no such high. I get really, really annoyed is what I get. Annoyed at parents who can't don't control their children:

Kids: Hiiiiiiiii-yah! [brandishing rolls of wrapping paper in sword-like manner]
Parent: Honey....don't.
Kids: R-r-r-r-r-r-r! [machine gun, now aimed at me]
Parent: Hmmmmm... [checking prices on candles, now blocking aisle with cart]
Me: Ahem. [smile, politely clear throat, give kids the "aw, you're cute" smile.]
Parent: STOP THAT RIGHT NOW! [grabs kids roughly by elbows and yanks them to her]

Well, that wasn't really what I was going for, but to each his own, I supposed. At least I was through. I squeezed by Rambo and Killer and made my way to the next aisle. I was bumped, elbowed, scratched and blocked repeatedly until I finally had all of my supplies necessary to create my table centerpiece. I took a deep breath and wove my way to the lines that were approximately 32 miles long. I sighed. I am The Worst at picking the good line.

I resigned myself to the one closest to me and began to amuse myself by looking at all of the junk on display. Texas sized jalapeno jelly beans? No, thanks. Glow in the dark lanyard strips? No. Easter basket grass 90% off? Um....The slowest cashier in the world? Yes! I was going to get her! Alright!! I gamely looked around into everyone else's baskets just to see if I could get any good ideas, I checked out everyone's clothes and hair [Not good - when did it become acceptable to shlep out in public in pants that resemble pajamas and fat rolls hanging out? I stare at those people.] I tried to imagine how the people were going to use their decorations in their homes, I imagined what their homes might look like, I planned next week's dinner menu and plotted most of my lesson plans, and then finally, finally it was my turn.
That was when I met Cheryl. Cheryl was middle aged and slow motioned. I don't know what was physically or mentally wrong with this woman, but all I had was a hand held basket of stuff. Not a cart, a basket. I timed her because this line had become something of a laughingstock. The people behind me rolled their eyes. I attempted the "it's not my fault" gesture, but I don't think I pulled it off. Cheryl's..........hand......would.......pick.......up......an......item, Tuuuuuurrrrrrrrnnnnn itttttt ooovvvveeeeerrrrrr and loooooooooooooook for the price. I helpfully leaned in and pointed to each price for her, then to the accompanying sale paper for the discount, since she had to ttttttyyyyyyppppe eeeeeeaaaaaccccch one in to the register, then rooooolllllllll it over in her hand. Then she reached for the wrapping paper.
"I'll do that. You just keep going," I hastily said, wrapping my own vase. She looooooooooooked up at me and staaaaaaaaaaaaarrrrrred. "Keep going, I got it!" I smiled helpfully, placing my package in the bag for her. The woman behind me snickered. Cheryl sh-sh-shu.....rugged [it really did take that long] and reeeeeeeaaaaaached for the next item. Now, multiply that times the 8 items in my basket and consider a credit card transaction and you've got (ready?) FOURTEEN MINUTES!!!! Fourteen minutes to check out! How do I pick this line every single time? It's an unbelievable gift. Curse. Hex. Something. I snatched my my packages, smiled sympathetically at the woman behind me and dashed out of Hobby Lobby like I was on fire.
Hate. Stupid. People. Well, the ones I don't know. I'm never going to Hobby Lobby again. During Christmas season. Well, at least not on a Saturday. Or if I really need something.

Referral

Some of my efforts today went into my guest post over at Cousineddie's Hizzouse. If any of you read Cousineddie and are dying to know more about her, I've got the goods over there. Heh.

Demands and Toes and Decor, Oh My!

It's amazing what you can do with a week off of school and no visiting relatives during the Thanksgiving holiday. Simply remarkable. For the first year since we moved here, we have no in-laws cramping my style during my savored week of freedom. It has been simply fabulous.I began my week in my usual fashion: creating a massive to do list. Ah, my love for lists is simply endless. Here's how I'm doing (because I know you're just dying to know):

1. Deliver food basket to Head Start for Sunday School class.
2. Go to foot doctor. Get details.
3. Decorate for Christmas.
4. Christmas cards
5. Christmas shopping
6. Wrap presents.
7. Con a friend to dog sit Gus for a night.
8. Sam's Club
9. Figure out where to stash various tons of Sam's paraphernalia in and around home.
10. Clean toilet where Husband can't aim.
11. Email insurance company for pain and suffering demand. Be brave and firm and demanding.

I'm doing pretty good, no? I'm particularly proud of the shopping/wrapping/decor bit. I'm struggling to find someone willing to undertake Gus for a night, I'm procrastinating putting away the Sam's haul, and I'm hemming and hawing about how much to ask for in pain and suffering. Still in the gathering information stage, I am unsure. Though my foot doctor wrote up a rather forboding account of the future of my toe which goes like this:

Status: Post Traumatic Injury Left Hallux

Patient demonstrates:

1) Chronic pain and swelling

2) Inability to flex and extend great toe without
guarding

3) Inability to tolerate any shoe with the exception of an
athletic shoe

4) Trauma to Interphalongeal Joint may result in permanent stiffness and Osteoarthritis.

Wowza....

Seems as though that ought to take care of bidness. Or something. I'm still plotting out exactly how to word my request demand for pain and suffering retribution. Mwah-ah-ah! On a more positive note, I think I may have taken one for the team that fateful night that a sink tumbled upon my wee digits....it seems that whist I was being repaired something of a match may have been made in the waiting room! That's all I'll say about that.

So. Nothing really exciting has happened this week! It's really been quite glorious. Our Thanksgiving dinner consisted solely of turkey sandwiches (deli meat!), macaroni and cheese, sweet potato souffle, and pecan pie. All the bad stuff. Yummy!

I've been home so much that Gus isn't able to get in his usual 20 hours of napping, so he's been pleasantly sleepy and out of trouble. He hasn't eaten one single Christmas present or ornament yet! This accomplishment is more meaningful than you realize. The lights on the bottom third of our tree no longer burn, thanks to one risk-taking beagle.

Which brings me to my next point: Christmas decorating in Pigs' house. It's not as easy as it sounds, and one must be extraordinarily creative to undertake the task of beagle-proofing their holiday decor while remaining chic and classy. My next post will concern Christmas decorations and my sentiments thereof. Until then! Ta!

Just Cinch It!

I just want to say, for the record, that I think cinching up shirts with pins and clips on the backs of mannequins is false advertising. That shirt is never going to fit me that way and if you have to cinch it on the mannequin, then you need a bigger mannequin. That's all I have to say about that.

By the By...

You may have noticed an odd little person commenting of late, referring to himself in third person as The MAN. Please do not be alarmed. I repeat, please do not be alarmed. This individual has recently been admitted into our lair by me and is completely approved. You have actually heard of him before....please go back in time with me to mid-August when I was griping about this "man teacher" next door who, as of the day before Meet the Teacher, had yet to decorate his room. Then recall that he pulled it off swimmingly at the last moment and all was forgiven. Ah, yes. I've gotten over his, um...methods, and learned to quite enjoy working with the man. [Incidentally, this is not why he refers to himself as "The MAN." That is his own little idiosyncracy that we must tolerate.] Prior to meeting The MAN, I truly believed myself to be the cheapest person I knew. I have officially been relieved of that title and am now learning from the master cheapskate himself. The good news about The MAN being online with us is that I now have validation for the stories that no one will believe, like last year when I described the Volunteer Luncheon scandal....yeah. No need to beat that horse again. Anyway, just wanted to introduce you to my teammate and let you know that despite his rather cryptic comments, he's an okay guy. You should also all be aware that a little testosterone really helps with the catty team issues. It's quite the relief to not worry about people's feelings getting hurt and who will be "mad" if I say something. I will stop now because this has tremendous potential to turn into a rant. Welcome, MAN!

Lapse of Judgment

Some days, there's just nothing to write about. Some days, you spend the whole afternoon loafing around the computer, unsure of exactly what may have transpired during the last 2 hours. Some days you just might step outside to get the mail and find yourself in a conversation with a neighbor for twenty minutes or so. It just might be on one of those days that your beagle decides to take advantage of the fact that you left the office door open for those twenty precious minutes and find his way into a leeeetle piece of doggie heaven: your trash.

Coveted bits of candy wrappers, dirty Kleenex, and dirty napkins from mom's snacks eaten in front of the computer. Ummm....old greasy goodness. You can't beat that. Old bills are fun to gnash with puppy teeth and those gnarly twist ties are unbeatable fun. What more does a dog want? The sound of the opening front door prompts Scooby Doo-style running attempts on hardwood floors. Gus scampers away. He darts left, he darts right.....he is distracted by a granola bar wrapper that he missed! He is snatched and dragged to the scene of the crime. Where he proceeds to give a practiced innocent, yet confused, yet irresistable kind of look. I give in and start snapping pictures. It's so sad.

In other news today, I went to go see Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire. It was really good. I'm surprised none of those movies have disappointed me, but I've really liked them all. I was impressed that they were able to fit most of the fourth book into a movie, considering how much happened in that book. It was obviously condensed, but still really good. I think it deserves its PG-13 rating and was kind of appalled at how many young, young children were in the theater. I think that kids that are 9 or 10 years old would be okay if they have read and understood the book, but most kids that age can't read on that level. Anyway, I'll jump off my soapbox and resign myself to the fact that most parents out there haven't taken my extensive "I Know I Don't Have Kids Yet, But I Think I Know What I'm Talking About" course. Or its critically acclaimed follow up class "What You've Done to Your Kids Has Taught Me What Not To Do With Mine." Ya know.

Who knew?

I have made a discovery today. I have figured out how to recoup the $35 Sam's Club membership fee. You simply go to Sam's hungry at least 7 times per year and eat lunch from all of the free sample stands! Just today, I enjoyed popcorn, hot chocoate, Diet Dr. Pepper, a nice seafood spread atop crackers, Reese's Cups, sausage, and some cheese! Clearly, that's the way to go. Whew! What a load off having learned a master plan. That $35 has always bothered me tremendously.

Some people, it seems, go to Sam's Club just for sport. There were many old retired men just hanging out in the food court area, taking advantage of 94 cent hot pretzels and ogling the young ladies. Once upon a time, last summer, I was winding my cart lazily through the aisles of SuperSized products, when I came upon a couple slow dancing right in the midst of the peanut butter aisle. It seems that their song had come on the loudspeakers and they were moved to celebrate their union right then and there. You just never know. I quietly turned my cart around and proceeded to another section. You can't mess around with Sam's love.

Sam's is a freaky place. I walk around in constant awe of the massive - ginormous! - containers of things and try to imagine under what conditions one would use such. For instance, the vat of ketchup. When exactly is that user friendly? It is a veritable vat! Very hard to handle. The humungo bags of tortilla chips as big as I am. How, how, how could you ever eat all those without them going stale unless you are a Mexican restaurant? I know people buy stuff like that for parties and such, but it appears that most people there are doing their weekly shopping.

I am most impressed by the cheese section in the deli. Now, I do believe that I could lay waste to one of those slabs of cheese in a week's time without a problem. I am obsessed with cheese. I could eat it any day, any time, on just about anything. My mouth is watering just thinking about it. I'm going to have to end this post now and go get some cheesy goodness.

Just remember: lunch at Sam's seven times a year and you recoup your fee. That is all.

Spark.

After knowing someone for over seven years, you'd think you would know just about everything about someone. You can imagine my surprise last night when I learned by demonstration that my husband can make flatulent noises with his knee pit! Who knew? This marriage just gets a little more special each day.

Now how much do you know about me? I have updated the old Singing Pig quiz with a New and Improved Version. Are you up for the challenge? You will have to report your score here. Make up a fake email if you wish, but do try to pass. Ready? GO!

Oh, and hey. I just wanted to share that I am supposed to be working diligently on my Big, Long List of Things to Do Over My Week Off (Oh, yeah, baby!!! I'm on break for a week!), but I am letting myself get distracted by this post. I am so compulsive about lists and my need to feel productive that I will add things to my list that I have already done just so I can cross them off.

Now GO!

Gus and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day.

If you ever want to freak out your beagle? Let them catch wind of some hot air balloons landing in your backyard. That'll about do it.

Gus came completely unglued and nearly hurled himself through a window pane. He later had to be subdued after the degrading and traumatic event called a Bath. He worked himself up into an allergy-induced reverse sneezing frenzy at which point I had to sedate him with some Benadryl. I simply had to take advantage of this glassy-eyed opportunity to do some doggie pampering. Duh.

Note the limp paws and blank stare. No way he would ever let me engage in this spa-like activity on a normal day. He'd eat my file.

Criss Cross Applesauce.

It's been awhile since we heard from my friend Mr. Owens. He's been going through an adjustment period in which his negotiation skills and persistent nature ceased to be nearly as funny as I found them earlier in the year and instead became somewhat obnoxious and exhausting for a bit. A bit like the entire past month.
But today he redeemed himself a touch, bringing an unexpected smile to my face on this, the Day of the Full Moon which curses all teachers and many pet owners. We were learning to score writing papers today and my class was exhibiting their usual enthusiastic-bordering-on-manic behaviors. [As opposed to my other class' lethargic-bordering-on-comatose behaviors]
I glanced up to see what Mr. Owens thought of the riveting story we were analyzing only to find him sitting perfectly still, Indian style, with his thumbs and forefingers touching in classic meditation pose, eyes closed. [please pardon my momentary lapse of PC-speak. I meant criss cross applesauce. Mr. Owens was sitting not Indian style, but criss cross applesauce. Sneer.]
I stifled a snicker and cleared my throat. "Say, um, Mr. Owens. What did you think this paper deserved?" He carefully raised one eyebrow and opened one eye slightly. "This one is puzzling. It requires a deeper amount of thought." He closed his eye and returned to his depths of analysis. I shrugged and finished my lesson. At least he was quiet.

I hope you did not know it was a can of DOG FOOD!

I've got that song and It Came Upon a Midnight Clear in my head at the same time. Can you explain that? I can't, but it doesn't matter....you know WHY?!

Because I wore two matching shoes today! Two matching shoes with HEELS! Two matching gosh darned cute shoes with heels and I felt normal! [have uncontrollable urge to add that little dancing guy from Yahoo Messenger here. How nerdy am I?] -pause- [Now have uncontrollable urge to put the little nerd smiley pushing up his glasses. Help me!!!]

How about another pen so y'all have something to talk about? Wooooooo!



That's all I got. Pigs out.

Weekend Round Up

If you've been visiting my blog this weekend, you may have experienced some confusion. I'm a little ADD with the backgrounds and I just can't decide on one. I like variety, I do. I have temporarily settled on these here flowers and we'll see how long that quenches my Gotta Have Something New issue.

So...not much going on around here. I managed to not have any accidents in a few days and I've kept my nasal contents to myself. Poop has not followed me for at least a week with the exception of Husband getting nailed by some bird doodie while sitting at a stoplight with his window open. Hee. I've always heard that means good luck though. It should! What are the odds?

What else, what else, what else? Oh - found out from family friend MM who sometimes comments here that the bass-ackwards insurance company of the restaurant by which I was slain by their sink has closed my claim because "they didn't hear back from me." Puh-LEASE! Do you have any idea how many times I've contacted that woman and given her all of my phone numbers?? Insane. She sounds like a simply stellar employee.

I'm wanting to know how much I should ask for regarding pain and suffering, bearing in mind that they are darn tootin' lucky I'm not suing them. What do you think? Here are my out of pocket expenses thus far:

Medical Bills (copays, not covered by insurance, etc.): $750.28
Supplies: $79.58
Prescriptions: $20
Jeans: $59 [Note: I, of course, did not pay this much, being that I am the Cheapest of All Skates, but this is what they would be worth were I to replace them.)
Really Cute Sandals: $139 [ditto]
Tennis League: $28
Two Days of Work: $550 [pre-tax earnings, should I do it like that?]
Pain and Suffering and General Malaise: ???
Still Not Wearing Cute Shoes: [insert ungodly sum of money here]
Trauma of Removing Bit of Sink From Own Foot: ???

So there I am. I have a couple of blanks left. Please share your opinion if you have one, vamoose if you don't. What good are ya!?

You can see that I have really had a tremendous weekend. I will note that I finally watched the new Charlie in the Chocolate Factory movie. I had really been looking forward to see how Tim Burton remade it. I'm not a huge fan of the book - hate the stupid Oompa Loompa songs - but I kind of liked the old movie. The new movie did very little for me. I couldn't look at Augustus Gloop or Veruca Salt or Violet Beauregard without matching their bratty personalities and useless parents to some student or another. Johnny Depp creeps me out, but was the perfect choice for the oddwad Willy Wonka. I dunno, it was kind of trippy like the old one. I just wish I could say stuff to kids like Willy Wonka can without getting sued. That would rock.

In other developments, Husband is sick with a cold of which I was surely the carrier. I Zicam-ed my symptoms away (shameless plug: BEST STUFF EVER FOR TEACHERS, despite those minor lawsuit issues), but he finds himself in a mucus-filled haze. He's sleeping in Cousineddie's bedroom [she maintains an unoffical dwelling in our home despite our slight geographical challenge from Texas to Virginia]. These sleeping arrangements completely stress Gus out because he likes everyone in the same room. I think he's like that little kid who is afraid his parents are splitting up. He spends the whole night running back and forth between us to make sure we're still there. Not ideal for slumber, I have to say. Poor kid. To show his displeasure, he's been acting out a great deal by barking excessively.

Earlier on my blog someone suggested that we get one of the beeping bark collars. Yeah, we tried that. Gus learned to bark over the beep and just keep going. It just caused more noise than we already had. The muzzle is the way to go. It crushes his whiskers and renders him somewhat paralyzed while he's wearing it. He runs into things and just lays his snout on the nearest person and give sad puppydog eyes until someone removes it. Pretty sad, but it works. I'll leave you with that image. TTFN!

-Pigs

Beware the Church Laugh

Accidentally had another accident today. Didn't get hurt. May have permanently scarred child, but did not injure self.

I was conferencing with a student about their writing, and I tend to abuse personal space when kids are at my table. Their little story was really quite amusing, and I wanted to laugh to demonstrate my enjoyment of their craft. Since it was a quiet writing time in my class I tactfully kept my mouth closed and did the church laugh. You know, the slight blowing of air through the nose whilst smiling with mouth? Yeah. Well, I puffed a dry little crusty right onto their paper.

That's right. I shot a booger on a kid's composition. Try to play that one off. Bygones.

Part 3: What I Think

If Pigs was in charge and someone would actually listen to a mere teacher, here are some of the things that I think would help to fix our little NCLB snafu. These are some things that have always confused me, and I would love it if someone would address some of them.

1. It seems to me that it would be a lot easier to monitor, assess, and teach students as a nation if we actually had a more similar curriculum from state to state with the exception of state history classes. It seems to me that it would make a lot more sense if we were all held to the same standards and the same tests. Having taught all subjects in the same elementary grade in two states, I have noticed just a smidge of difference [be sure to read my sarcasm here] in expectations and skills taught. Call me crazy, but why aren't we comparing apples to apples here?

2. I think that instead of labeling high SES schools as "exemplary" and low SES schools as "unacceptable," perhaps we should start looking at student growth instead of hanging banners on schools which - let's be realistic here - ought to say things like Our Families Can Afford to Hire a Tutor if There's Trouble or Our Kids Come to Us in Kindergarten Reading! And don't say it's not true. I think it's ridiculous that I work in a school with a great rating, but I have also worked in two schools with failing ratings. Did I suddenly change my teaching style when I came to a more affluent school? Sure didn't, but getting those kids to pass was suspiciously a lot easier! Quite honestly, I had to be a much better teacher in the failing schools.
I think that every school should be expected to make gains every year. Let's say there's a point system (not a percentage or percentile) assigned to the tests. Each year a student should be required to make a certain number of points growth to achieve a year's worth of learning. Any points beyond that should be gravy! If school ratings were based on growth year to year, which schools do you think would be seeing the biggest gains? Not my school! It would also force high SES schools to put the appropriate amount of effort into a gifted student. Do you know how hard it is to move someone to show growth when they are already at the top? Tie some merit pay to that and see where the good teachers want to teach...

3. We seriously need some support for our low IQ/non-Special Education students. I know people love to say that kids are being overly diagnosed with learning disabilities and that if you're a good teacher, you should be able to make a monkey pass that test, but come ON. If Bobby's still sounding out his words in the fourth grade letter by letter, Bobby ain't gonna get any comprehension out of the TAKS reading passage about Vietnamese holidays. I promise. And if I - as a good teacher - spend the amount of one-on-one time that I need to with Bobby to help him make a year's worth of growth, two things are going to happen. First, my friend Bobby's still not going to pass that test. Second, I have just done an injustice to 20 other kids.

That's really all I have to say, and I'm sure that many will be relieved to know that I am now ending my rant. Though, while I have your attention, I'd like to state one slightly off topic bit of advice to parents.

4. Teachers need some respect. We are working like dogs every day for next to nothing. Treating your child's teacher like your maid or other servant does absolutely nothing to help your child. The teacher is there for your child's education. She is not there to provide your child with a Super!Fun experience every day. It is your job to support the teacher because - this may be shocking to some people I know - she really does know what she's talking about! She has a college degree in the field and everything! Homework is not negotiable. If a child fails a test, do not come argue it with the teacher. Instead, take the time to go over the material with your child. That's all I have to say about that.

Pigs is going to take a rest now and put her tired self to bed. She's been teaching like a demon all day and is a bit winded from all of this pontification. Please do not fret, there will certainly be a post that involves some poo or a klutzy accident coming soon. No worries.

Part Two: You Can't Get Blood Out of a Turnip

(Deep breath.....and, release.) Okay. It felt good to get part one out, but I had to stop for air. After reading some of your comments, I feel ready to continue with part two. Don't expect a terrifically organized essay here, this is just me telling you what I see in the classroom.

Alright, yesterday we stopped with my friend Bobby. Basic common sense and logic tell you that unless Bobby comes up with some really innovative bubbling technique come TAKS test day, he's probably not going to pass these tests. I tend to agree with the comment that sometimes you just have to focus on those kids that the intensive tutoring can help and just make sure that Bobby feels good about himself and that he enjoys school. This would be fine and dandy, except guess which kid is the one kid that I am going to be questioned about each time his name appears at the bottom of my test scores? And guess which kid goes on my SSI list? The Texas Student Support Initiative mandates that I give Bobby and other at-risk students (kids who failed or came perilously close to failing the test the previous year) an additional 45 minutes of instruction per day within the school day in their weak area(s). Heh. Puh-LEASE!

Here we get into the choice that I think many teachers make every day: the dumbing down of our students. On one hand, we have been told for the last ten years that ability grouping is "Baaaad!" [channel the SNL George Bush impression here.] Now we're being required to give these kids interventions at their levels. The solution? Let's call it something different! Now flexible grouping is very en vogue. Silly! It's all the rage now that the same thing has a new name. I flexible group/ability group every day. Is it easy? No. But if I don't do it, guess what's going to happen to my 115+ IQ kids? Here is what they hear when I tell them to go read a book while I work with Bobby: "You already know everything. There's no need for you to make any effort or think, ever, because you are already smart and will do fine on the test. Go be quiet somewhere and turn off your brain."

This is my biggest problem with testing. I really like that testing ensures that everyone is teaching the curriculum and not spending all of their school year on a unit on ducks or something, but I hate that so many teachers are letting all of their students land in the middle. I see so many gifted kids being pushed to the side because they "already know the material" and they are not challenged or pushed to achieve more. Those kids grow to hate school because they are chronically bored, and who can blame them? All of the emphasis and teacher energy is being focused on Bobby - and Lord knows he needs it- but so do all of the other kids. This is the predicament that NCLB has put teachers in.

Testing has killed a lot of really good quality teaching. Many teachers are so afraid that their job is on the line (which I don't really get because there seems to be a teacher shortage everywhere I go) that they spend all of their time teaching to the test because ultimately that is what people are going to look at. That is what administrators are going to shine up on the screen at a staff meeting next year are each teacher's test scores. I understand the panic, but I also know that if you teach your kids your curriculum and teach it to them in interesting ways that they will understand and remember, that they will do FINE on that stupid test. Which covers your accountability.

A lot of people mentioned parent and student accountability. I could go on for another entire post about the lack of student and parent accountability, but I don't think that's what my point is today. Yes, there are major problems with parents and kids taking accountability for their performance, but the bottom line is that you get the kids that they send you. If they had anything better at home, they would've sent that too. You have to take the students you're given and work with them wherever they may be. I'll tell you what: if 'ol Bobby is reading on a 3rd grade level by the end of this school year AND he still likes school, I will feel like I've done my job. Will my principal agree when he fails TAKS? Probably not, but I'm a teacher, not a miracle worker. I hope, too, that while I move Bobby to the 3rd grade reading level, that my gifted kid who is on a 7th grade reading level will made just as many strides.

It's easy to understand why teachers are moved to cheat on these tests. An entire district near Dallas was exposed last spring for an immense cheating operation on TAKS tests. If the pressure was taken off of test performance and moved onto an individual child's growth from the previous year, I think we would see a lot more education and a lot less cheating or teaching to the test. Schools are becoming factories that produce students who are very good at bubbling the right answer or use the right formula to respond to an essay. I don't know about y'all, but my work rarely comes in a multiple choice format. If it did, I imagine it would look like this:

Which cliche best fits this student?

a) You can lead a horse to water, but you can't make him drink.
b) You Can't Get Blood Out of a Turnip.
c) You can't make chicken salad out of chicken droppings. [edited for mom]
d) All of the above.

Come see me tomorrow for Part Three: The Pig's Scheme-y Plan For What Should Happen If She Was In Charge.

Part One: Average

Sometimes I wonder what the average person reading the newspaper daily thinks about No Child Left Behind. Personally, I think it sounds great in theory, and it should absolutely be what every teacher and administrator is shooting for. But what I rarely see explored in a mainstream publication is the simple fact that NCLB overlooks the very real existence of a Bell Curve. The majority of the population really is of average intelligence. That's why it's called average: typical, common, regular, normal. That's how that works.

[begin rant]

Tests were designed by many states to assess understanding of grade level material to determine whether a student should be promoted to the next grade. The average student who has understood the material should be able to pass this test. In my state, Texas, 3rd grade and 5th grade are designated "benchmark years" in which promotion to the next grade is dependent upon passing the reading test in 3rd grade or the reading and the math tests in 5th grade. I teach fourth grade. Today we're going to talk a little bit about what that's like under these criteria.

I can't speak for other states, but in Texas I feel that the new tests - TAKS - are challenging when compared to their predecessors - TAAS - which were laughably simple. I am glad that the tests aren't no brainers because that's establishing that we want our kids to really push and be successful. But! We have to be realistic here and I don't believe that we are.

Let's clicky back on that Bell Curve again. 68.26% of the population is of average IQ. Those kids? They're going to do just fine on this test. You might tutor a few of them, but those kids are going to pass regardless of how you teach them. Now look at the 115+ IQ category. That's about 15.86% of the population. Those kids? Bored silly in your stupid boring TAKS class. We will dumb them down over the course of the year. I will elaborate later. The folks I really want to talk about are your 15.86% of kids below an 85 IQ.

Now, this is assuming that there is actually a school out there with these figures. Sadly, at least in Texas, I don't see how you could ever find that. I teach in a very middle class suburban school, and I can honestly say that our percentage of kids below an 85 IQ is not relative to that of the general population. This, however, is precisely my point. Many schools out there, and I've taught in two of them, have a disproportionate number of these kids who will generally not qualify for special education services and who will struggle to be successful in the regular classroom. As I describe what it's like at my school, please keep in mind the population I am teaching and multiply my problems by about a thousand for a more typical At Risk school.

Here are the layman's basics which I don't believe are presented to the general readership of America's newspapers:

1. In order to qualify for special education services, a student must have a sizeable discrepancy between their IQ and their performance. For reasons I don't understand this number varies from state to state. In Texas, it's 16 points.

2. If a child has an IQ that is lower than 85, odds are good that there is no way on God's green earth they are going to qualify for special eduation because that means that they are performing below a 70 in one or more areas. Occasionally this happens, but it is pretty rare.

3. Generally, though these kids are struggling severely when compared to their peers, they are actually performing at or above their ability. They are then the teacher's job to "fix" and make them pass the test. Here's where it gets interesting.

Meet my friend Bobby. Bobby has a 78 IQ. Bobby can usually spell his name right and knows how to add single column numbers. Bobby can't spell and is reading on a low second grade reading level. Bobby is confused by capital letters and periods, but will be writing a composition on the TAKS writing test come February, leaving me three more months to "fix" him. When I fail to "fix" him and he fails his writing test, this will be attributed to my inability to teach.

Bobby is very frustrated much of the time and often cries when he gets work back and learns that he has failed again. Bobby is tutored 3 days a week outside school hours and is pulled one-on-one or in small groups by his two teachers for a good part of every school day. Bobby does not qualify for special eduation services because he is working well above his ability level. There is no extra class that Bobby can go to for help because our school is not a Title 1 school and apparently has no extra funding. It was suggested to us that Bobby receive a mentor who will make him feel better about himself and then he will pass TAKS. We got Bobby a mentor, but there are still no signs of improvement in his test scores.

It is here that I will end Part One of this rant. I want you to think about Bobby and what you would do with him. Many, many teachers have 6 or 8 Bobby's in one class. I need to organize my thoughts before continuing. This tirade may turn into a brief series regarding what Pigs thinks of the dumbing down of America's schools.

[end rant]

Questions

For teachers:
1. Is it legal for an aide to lead teach all of the special ed. math classes? If not, what would you do?
2. Is it legal to hire an uncertified substitute when there was a very qualified certified teacher interviewed as well?

For dog owners:
3. Is it wrong to muzzle your dog so that you can take a nap?
4. Why do the chewy treats cost so much more than the crunchy?

For the rest of you:
5. What should you do if you inadvertantly find yourself with a booger on your finger in the car and there are no Kleenex in sight?
6. What would you do if you saw the high school kids at the bus stop in your driveway laying upon your mailbox? It's brick and sturdy, but it's still my mailbox.

Happy weekend! It was 85 degrees today!! View the tacky pen 'o the day:

Skid Marks

I'd like to begin today with a couple of statements:

1. My foot caused me to have curly hair today.

2. My day began with my car skidding on a dirty diaper whilst I parked. I do not know how poo continues to haunt me.

I'd like to state for the record that your day can only get better when your front left tire skids a bit on a dirty apparently poopy diaper which someone conveniently left in your parking spot. I can honestly say that my anti-lock brakes have never kicked in until they struck dookie today. Who knew?

I was already having a bit of a rough morning what with my hair situation. I finally attributed my stiff neck to the three weeks of walking at uneven heights as none of my shoes is level with my Jimmy. When one has a pretty wicked case of scoliosis to begin with, one ought not mess with irregular shoe heights. It's like laughing my crooked back in the face. I found myself in the shower, unable to rinse the shampoo out of my hair without holding my head with my hands for support. This was when I decided that the hair dryer/curling iron/straightening war that I fight with my hair each morning wasn't going to happen today. So you can clearly see why my foot made my hair curly. This would not be a big hairy (heh) deal in any other profession.

Except for teaching fourth graders. "Where's Mrs?!" "It's her!" "What happened to your hair?!" "Did you go to the barbershop?" "Hey, where's Mrs?" "Duh, that's her, she got a perm." "Did you braid your hair and sleep in it?" "Hey, Mrs, did you go and get a hair do?" Et cetera.

When we finished the wonderment that was my hair, we soon had another hair situation. One of our tutors called me over to tell me that there were white bugs crawling on the head of one of my students. I sighed and emailed the nurse. (Remember it was just yesterday I was frustrated with the nurse). Eeeek! We have a sighting of some creepy crawlies on a head in my room. Can I send her down? Sounds like time for a lice check! Thanks! I emailed because I knew she would receive it promptly since she so diligently sends the entire staff copious forwards each day. She wrote back and told me she'd come down and check a few of them as not to embarrass her. Great...we'll infest a few more kids while we wait. I relayed the message to the tutor who was properly appalled and went down to tell her herself. That was at 9:30am. At 3:00pm I passed her in the office and asked if it was in fact lice on the child. "Ooops! I totally forgot to do that! Can you send her up?" My mouth fell open. Now I itch from head to toe. I think my arm hair may even have lice.

But it was the mid-class afternoon announcement that really completed my day of doo. "BOYS AND GIRLS! LISTEN CAREFULLY!" Long pause. We all stared intently at the loud speaker. "STUDENTS AND TEACHERS, THIS IS EXTREMELY IMPORTANT. I NEED YOU TO FOLLOW THESE DIRECTIONS TO THE LETTER...." Long pause. My students and I raised our eyebrows with interest. There must be an intruder in the school. I began to flip through my lock down procedures that I hadn't reviewed since last year. I could tell that this was either a terrorist or we were going to have to evacuate. The tone was that of certain death or tragedy. "LISTEN CAREFULLY.....NO ONE IN THE SCHOOL....IS TO FLUSH.....A......TOILET! REPEATING....DO NOT FLUSH A TOILET." Click.

The corners of my mouth began to twitch as I tried to restrain my laughter. My class looked at me, their faces question marks of confusion. "Well," I began casually, "I bet that's not what you expected her to say!" They burst into laughter and we had a jolly good laugh for a few minutes. It really made a nice break in the day. I love, love, love that fourth graders appreciate good bathroom humor as much as I do. Hee!

Closing remarks:

1. Pen of the day:

2. Extra credit if you can tell me what tomorrow is! Waiting....waiting....now! Go! Comment!

Sn....Snar....Snarky!

Snarky.

I feel snarky today, but I don't know why. I did something weird to my neck on Sunday and it's gotten worse since then. I spent the night doing that thing where you try to bunch your pillow at all kinds of strange angles to relieve the pain, then just forego the whole darned thing altogether. I woke up with my head plastered to my mattress and my face all scrunched up with sleep lines. Those foxy bad boys stuck around even after a shower.

Then I forgot to make the coffee. I drink half-caff coffee, so it's not even the fix that I'm after. It's just the pleasant routine of something warm to drink on these chilly 46 degree mornings. (Disregard the fact that it gets into the 80s in the afternoon. Bygones. It's my ritual.....See? Snarky!)

Despite my Really Huge Breakthrough yesterday in which I wore a tennis shoe around the block, I was crushed this morning to find out that the dress shoes still don't work. I strapped on my Jimmy and trudged my way to the car.

Upon arriving to school, I encountered several faculty members dressed in their sweatsuits. My black pants and green button-up suddenly looked a bit overdressed as I remembered that today was Warm-up Wednesday. Then I felt torn. While I am a fan of the occasional jeans day at work, I have a real issue with wearing sweatpants or warm up clothes to school. I think it's unprofessional and sloppy. I became more annoyed when I went to the office to get some coffee and the administration was yaya-ing about how it served the people right who didn't read the calendar that they didn't get to wear their warmups. I read the calendar. While I did indeed forget about the Sweatpants Mania Day, it was likely because I wasn't planning to participate. It troubles me that it's even offered. So how is it that I am made to feel stupid for dressing professionally for my job? I'm troubled.

Then, then! There are a couple of bugs going around the school. A little stomach number and a flu-like headache-y jobbie. Our nurse really believes herself to be the Director of Forms and Information and Keeping Kids Away From Her. She's always sending school wide emails declaring the need for last names on forms and not sending kids for bandaids, etc. I agree these things are important. However, I am Super Nurse Nan down in my room. I feel heads, I check temperatures, and I always, always send a kid for a wet papertowel (a cure all in fourth grade, just a little attention goes a long way) before sending them to the nurse. What really burns my biscuits and turns me into Mrs. Snarkysnark is that the nurse closes the clinic. She closes it! She sent an email today that no one else should be sent to the clinic because it was full. Um....it's full because there are many feverish sick children? Shouldn't they be out of the classroom? Isn't that kind of, um...her job? BAH! Snarky.

In an effort to cheer myself, I leave you with the first little number from my tacky pen collection:

But and Of. Two Small Words Make a Day Special.

Since I didn't hear overwhelming excitement from my comment box over the prospect of viewing my tacky pen collection, I will instead share a Deep Thought which came from my classroom today.

Picture it: a student gazing at the board, pondering deeply life's many scenarios. I walk by. The student jumps in her chair, alert.

Student: Mrs?
Me: Yes?
Student: I just figured out my favorite word to write in cursive!
Me: Oh, really? Do tell.
Student: Of! Because "o" and "f" are my favorite letters.
Me: Ahhhh...I see where you're coming from. Good call.

Later, while working on a lesson on combining sentences: I presented the two sentences to the class. I love my sister's new game. She won't let me play it. We reviewed conjunctions quickly and began debating the best one to use.

Me: What do y'all think?
Students: [waving hands and writhing in chairs.]

Since it was such a slam dunk, it seemed a good chance to let everyone answer.

Me: Everybody? [I motioned them on in a chorus.]
Everybody: BUT! [big smiles turn into a collective gasp.]

I look up. My principal had just walked in the doorway.

Me: Heh, heh...uh...heh, heh. A little lesson on conjunctions to start us out. Heh...

******************

Guess what? Only three more days until my one year blogversary. How 'bout them apples? Start thinking about what gift you are going to give me...