tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24244992368850453572024-03-05T19:17:00.179-06:00Quarters in the JarTo snark, it will cost you a quarter...unless it's true.Frau M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/09849486895019554304noreply@blogger.comBlogger38125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2424499236885045357.post-32962717969965223932011-08-02T21:05:00.002-05:002012-12-28T11:02:45.852-06:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Frau M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/09849486895019554304noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2424499236885045357.post-17038651792668566252010-05-08T15:43:00.004-05:002010-05-08T15:58:41.036-05:00Things to do last night1. Lose house/truck keys (check)<br /><br />2. Burn dinner a little (check)<br /><br />3. Poke finger multiple times with sewing needle while furiously putting <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Cubscout</span> patches on uniform only to find it wasn't necessary to wear it to the graduation picnic (check)<br /><br />4. Break #1 Rule for life (check)<br /><br /><br /><br />What is my number one (and much more logical than "never pass up a free pen") rule? Always, always, ALWAYS save things if they are remotely important. Like this blog for example. It's important to me. So last night when I got all crazy and tried to change the whole entire font by editing the HTML, I did not save it before I started. The next thing I knew was that all my post titles had vanished. The old code was gone because I had deleted it. I didn't know how to get it back (it was <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">probably</span> some easy step and I didn't need to stress). Thankfully, because I only halfway know what I'm doing, Blogger <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">auto archives</span>, and I was able to reload my page. But now, as you can see it is <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">waaaay</span> boring, and not my style at all (I do so love the theater). I can not change it. I have tried, and it won't let me. So, all future posts will be at the following address:<br /><br /><a href="http://www.payaquarter.blogspot.com/">payaquarter.blogspot.com</a><br /><br />So, lesson learned. Again.Frau M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/09849486895019554304noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2424499236885045357.post-42136813115032215402010-05-04T18:57:00.003-05:002010-05-05T18:02:55.827-05:00Brought down the hammer, did you?That's what my DH said when I told him about my day. The actual conversation went a little something like this...<br /><br />DH: How was your day?<br />Me: I think my principal and the Behavior Interventionist might have black listed me today.<br />DH: <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Reeeeally</span>. Why do you think that?<br />Me: Oh, well...some of the choices that were made by students warranted a trip up the hall.<br />DH: How many?<br />Me: 6<br />DH: WHAT? Is that like some sort of record?<br />Me: I think so.<br />DH: Well you know what I always say...<br />Me: Do it once do it right?<br />DH: No<br />Me: 12 hours bottle to throttle?<br />DH: No<br />Me: Then I don't know, you have a lot of sayings. My mind hurts so you might have to give me a pass and just tell it.<br />DH: Go big or go home.<br />DH: And you did.<br />Me: And I did.Frau M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/09849486895019554304noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2424499236885045357.post-16489165239348717432010-05-03T20:43:00.003-05:002010-05-03T21:05:31.232-05:00I'm almost positive...Teacher Appreciation Week was not even marked on their calendar. However, the USPS did recognize it today. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">YAY</span>! I can almost see your questioning glances in my direction. It happens to me a lot, so I'm familiar with the, "I don't follow" look that goes with the smiling head nod.<br /><br />So here's the thing about me...I love, love, love free stuff. Ask anyone who has gone with me to the State Fair, home show, or any other location with booths and free pens. My sack will be packed with stuff before the day is through. This interest (my DH calls it a problem) in all things free leads me to three main <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">couponing</span>/sample sites each day to check out the deals. They also help me stick it to <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Walmart</span> (also another "problem"). <br /><br />So a few weeks ago, one of the sites was promoting the Sample Showcase from the post office. As I signed up, I thought, "<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Hmm</span> sounds like some spam I'm willing to filter, and it could turn out well." Today, I got home to be greeted by a rather large box with Sample Showcase printed on it. When I opened it, I found eight different things inside, including a Dove Bliss Bar. This is how I know I'm a nerd about these things. I immediately called my sister to tell her my good fortune. Some companies sent me free stuff that included chocolate, and I turn into a goofy bragger.<br /><br />So, thank you to the United States Postal Service. I know you didn't know that I'm a teacher, but I did feel appreciated all the same.Frau M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/09849486895019554304noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2424499236885045357.post-89720921179925100462010-04-28T17:58:00.002-05:002010-04-28T18:32:39.929-05:00I'm done.If you thought that was what I said at the end of the day, I won't lie. I might have. Actually my exact words were something like, "Does anyone know how to apply at <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Walmart</span>?" But, that is not the point of this post. <br /><br />Today, I assessed (second time in as many days) my little friends (term used loosely these days) with the district writing assessment. Both yesterday and today, I talked all about what good writing was and how we had learned all about how to be a <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">rockstar</span> writer this year. I reminded them that good stories have a beginning, middle and end. WITH DETAILS. At the end of my soapbox speech today, I read the scripted portion of the assessment. I almost choked on the words, "I cannot help you." Because really, when don't I? <br /><br />Feel free to begin inserting sad violin music now. About five minutes in, one of my lovelies brought me the writing declaring, "I'm done."<br />"OH NO YOU ARE NOT!" I thought, but said, "Did you tell the whole story?"<br />"Yep, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">BME</span>...done," said the student.<br />"Are you sure?" I asked with tears welling up while I stared at the three <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">misspelled</span>, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">mispunctuated</span> sentences.<br />"Yep. Can I draw now?" the student asked.<br />"No, writing is the only option, so you might as well take this back to make sure it's how you want it, or put down your head to wait," I said with a little bit of a sharp tone while thinking Ah-ha gotcha...no one wants to rest his head for more than five minutes.<br />"Oh, can I close my eyes?" the student asked.<br />"Sure." I said as a little of my teacher heart broke.<br /><br />Some of the pieces turned in were beautiful, so I'm not sure why I am obsessing about one or two less than stellar writings. Oh I know, it's because I'm fiercely competitive, and my class must be the best. Or, I'm losing my mind. Take your pick.Frau M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/09849486895019554304noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2424499236885045357.post-62832264802844063502010-04-23T18:58:00.002-05:002010-04-26T12:31:20.016-05:00Links in a food chainIt all started on Wednesday night when my <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">supercolleagues</span> and I drove 2 hours both ways to the visitation for the father of our team member. On the way back we were just a little bit slap happy (okay, a lot slap happy). Eight hours of teaching followed by a long car trip will do that to a girl. The driver on our trip was a former teacher at my school who has since moved to the place where there is one prep a day (cheater Jr. High teachers). We told her about our field trip to <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">the nature</span> center on the following day and she asked which presentation we would be seeing. "Food Chains." we all said in unison (insert Debbie Downer music here). The <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">JH</span> teacher then recited the following poem to us: There once was a flower that grew on the plain. Where the sun helped it grow, and so did the rain-- Links in a food chain.<br />There once was a bug who nibbled on flowers, Nibbled on flowers for hours and hours! The bug ate the flower that grew on the plain, Where the sun helped it grow, and so did the rain-- Links in a food chain.<br /><br />She did the whole poem in the car (using her very best sing-<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">songy</span> voice), and by the time she got to the fox who ate the snake, who ate the bird who ate the bugs who nibbled on flowers who grew on the plain, we were hysterical. As in "Thank you God that I didn't drink my whole ice water at the restaurant hysterical."<br /><br />I didn't really get why we were laughing. It did seem funny that our driver, a junior high teacher, could tell us a poem from memory. Plus, everything seems funnier when you are tired.<br />Apparently, she could tell us the poem because the presentation uses it every. single. time. Evidenced by my <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">supercolleagues</span> faces when the naturalist had us all join arms and say, "Links in a food chain."<br /><br />On the way home, I lamented that a glass of celebratory wine (100 kids on a trip 1 hour away, and no catastrophes) might be nice to which my <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">supercolleagues</span> replied, "Sun to grapes, grapes to us...Links in a food chain." That's right.Frau M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/09849486895019554304noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2424499236885045357.post-76238626588441526052010-04-19T21:39:00.004-05:002010-04-19T21:56:24.701-05:00Dear School Year,We need to talk. Our relationship went south just as soon as the weather warmed up and we ended the hostage situation (aka indoor recess). I think we need to take a break from <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">each other</span>. I am over you, and you are over me. I have already begun looking to greener pastures (10-11, here I come). Even though I know it's over, I will continue to come back until the very end. Because I still love you, I'm just not in love with you.<br /><br />Love,<br />Frau M.<br /><br />P.S. If you ever loved me at all, please don't let it rain on Thursday. It's our field trip to the nature center, and if it rains we will be totally unable to take the hike. Thus, we will play "nature charades" in the shelter house. Yuck.Frau M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/09849486895019554304noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2424499236885045357.post-80647417780905537082010-04-14T18:08:00.002-05:002010-04-14T18:33:59.703-05:00What's grosser than gross?"When you open your refrigerator, and your rump roast farts at you," said our former pastor's wife once. Hilarious. But, I can do you one better because what happened to me trumps anything anyone can tell. Ever. Even farting rump roasts.<br /><br />It was after school and I had sent all my darlings on their merry way to enjoy the wonderful weather we are having (I propose classrooms with retractable ceilings). I made my 3:15 dart to the bathroom. I said dart because I have been drinking a lot of water, and still holding it for pretty much the whole day. It's funny how the constant activity makes me forget that I even have to go, at all. If I was on a <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">roadtrip</span> we would have stopped roughly 45 minutes after the first bottle of water (critiquing the driver does not compare to wrangling 24 students). <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Anywho</span>, I did the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">fastwalk</span> to the bathroom (the one that is still fast, but doesn't jiggle your bladder). <br /><br />That's when the most gross/perplexing thing that has <strong>ever</strong> happened to me in my whole entire career <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">occurred</span>. I went to pull the toilet paper, and there were poop streaks on it. At first I was all, "<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">EW</span>! <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">EW</span>! <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">EW</span>!" My next thought was, "How did someone wipe and get it back on the roll so neatly?" Then I looked at it again and it just didn't add up. So what do I do? Dummy me looks into the toilet paper dispenser, only to discover someone had put a turd inside the toilet paper roll holder. I think I screamed, but I'm not sure because I have a little blank spot in my memory from the whole situation. <br /><br />Needless to say, I am equally disgusted by and mad at the child (hopefully) for 1.) vandalising the school and 2.) giving me one more thing to put on my list of "Things I Can't <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">Unsee</span>."Frau M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/09849486895019554304noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2424499236885045357.post-60101856660126993172010-04-08T18:00:00.002-05:002010-04-08T19:32:52.314-05:00Must resist mulch pile...So yesterday it was "Maintenance does all the things we have been wanting (begging to be) done around the school since...oh I don't know September Day." Exhibit A is that no one will need a front end alignment nor extra bucks to pay the tow truck after traveling to the parking lot I refer to as, "A River Runs Through It." You see it had become gravel in name only and it had so many potholes that even I (with the big Avalanche) was questioning the wisdom of parking back there. So problem #1 SOLVED (without even calling the Fox Problem Solvers, mind you).<br /><br />The other thing was that they started to fix the mulch on the playground. It has been in sorry shape since day one. As in, "Sorry friends we can't play on the equipment because it rained last week and the mulch/mud still isn't dry. Sorry." Which leads me to today's story. Mulch mountain was delivered yesterday shortly before our recess time. As I was headed to the playground I was all like, "Huh?" Then I realized what the ginormous haystack looking thing was. "It's MULCH! Sweet!" I thought. However, my mood was dampened by the absence of anyone spreading it and the impossible task of keeping 100 children away from something new that looks so fun to climb on. Several whistle blows and crazy eyes later...the would be landscapers were sufficiently scared away from the mulch for the remainder of recess.<br /><br />So, much to my chagrin, when I went to morning duty Mulch Mountain was still the same size, and in the same place. Instead of chasing away 100...it would everyone in our school (except the frequent latecomers, of course). Even though it was there most of the day yesterday and I'm sure all the teachers explained its purpose, my young friends still asked about it...a lot. Around the fiftieth time I was asked, I started making up answers. I believe I told more than one that the maintenance men were planning to completely cover the equipment so we could no longer play on it. And guess what? They believed me and with sad faces asked, "Why?" So of course I told them I was just kidding and that maintenance was making our playground safer...no worries. <br /><br />Mother of Pearl I need to work on that pesky inferring some more.Frau M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/09849486895019554304noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2424499236885045357.post-49692342960347642842010-04-06T10:34:00.003-05:002010-04-06T17:42:33.041-05:00Ant ApocalypseAt least that's what the little ant survivors called the variety of poisons sent their way last night. <br /><br />Yesterday morning (yes, I had to go to work because we only had a Spring Pause), I stumbled into the bathroom in my house in the wee morning hours (5:39...I hit snooze) only to find what one would consider to be an inordinate number of ants. Ants! Ants?! In the bathroom?! I let out a little shriek (only a little one because Mama needs 45 <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">uninterrupted</span> minutes to get ready, and can't have small children using the toilet and "forgetting" not to flush when the shower's running). Then I proceeded to empty pretty much a whole can of Lysol on their scrawny thoraxes. So the ants were gone, and I finished getting ready as usual. Problem solved, right?<br /><br />Oh, if only my life were so simple. Spraying the dickens out of the ants would have worked. So, around 9:00 I get a text from the DH that reads, "Stop at the store and get everything they have to kill ants." Apparently <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">asphyxiating</span> myself this morning did not do the job and DH is equally creeped out by unexplained insects. After school, I stopped at <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Wal</span>-Mart where I purchased spray, ant traps, and these little repelling sticks for the exterior ground. Exterminate much? After the a quick run through at McDonald's for dinner (it was <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Cubscout</span> night after all-and do I have a story to tell), I started the annihilation of our insect visitors. All I needed were some white coveralls, and I could have been hired on the spot for a back-up job with <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">Orkin</span>.<br /><br />So $16.62 later the ants are gone. I am not using insane amounts of disinfectant. All is well.Frau M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/09849486895019554304noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2424499236885045357.post-19551166248932844852010-04-02T09:41:00.003-05:002010-04-02T10:10:50.163-05:00Street credComing off third quarter Parent/Teacher conferences (or as I like to call them "The Truth about Your Child" meetings) last week, I know for a fact that having two children has given me a tremendous amount of credibility with the parents. Well, having two kids and the fact that I am older than many, many of the parents. It would be hard to take advice like, "Hold him accountable when he lies," or "The key is consistency," from a 22 year old with no kids at home. I can hear the echoes of my first year of teaching parents, "Listen sister, you don't even have kids, so you don't have a clue." <br /><br />And I didn't. I didn't know what it was like to come home exhausted and still have to make sure everyone did what they were supposed to do. Or to look over at your yard and notice that the lagoon has an awful lot of water around it. Upon further investigation, finding the wall has a huge hole and sewer water is flowing (albeit slowly) into the yard (true story from last night--happy Spring Break to me and my DH. Our arms are sore from filling buckets of topsoil from the pile we made when we built the patio. Just to dump them into the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">deeeeeeep</span> hole after pulling them across the yard. Thank you Radio <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Flyer</span> for the help).<br /><br />But now, I do have kids, so I do know it's hard.Frau M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/09849486895019554304noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2424499236885045357.post-8945555092991698542010-03-27T22:48:00.003-05:002010-03-27T23:20:19.207-05:00The last minute...is the best minute. At least that's what I like to tell myself so I don't get all stressed out and start crying. Oh wait. I still do, but only in front of trusted colleagues and my DH. I always tell myself as I'm furiously _______ (fill in the blank with any chore including but not limited to assessing students and filling out grade cards) that next time I will make sure and start much earlier. But, I never do. Never. I even tried to make it a resolution. But, it was to no avail.<br /><br />So, tonight I am cleaning my house in preparation for family coming tomorrow night for Passover on Monday night. If only I kept my house sparkling clean I would not be sweating right now from running the dryer (trying once again to conquer Mount <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Purex</span>), turning my oven on to self-clean (a 5000 degree chore), and moving every piece of furniture I have to get all the hidden dirt that I tend to ignore when no one is here but us. They will be here in less than 24 hours, and this week was Third quarter conference/Cub scout pink eye/Camper springs a leak in the window/Run a fever/DH gets called out week. So the house, prior to my four hour (so far) merry maids marathon looked like something that almost could be seen on the show, "Hoarders." Almost. Without the National <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Geographics</span> from 1972.<br /><br />What I am I doing writing about cleaning instead of actually doing it? Well, mother, it is not 4pm tomorrow. And, crying makes my eyes look a lot bluer.Frau M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/09849486895019554304noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2424499236885045357.post-17379340419390367112010-03-22T21:10:00.003-05:002010-03-23T08:52:00.934-05:00You're kidding, right?Have you ever been in a situation where there are so many things that you are incredulous about that you don't even know where to begin to tell the whole story? This is me tonight.<br /><br />On Saturday, after the marathon (3 1/2 hours!) pinewood derby (did I mention my cub was the winner in the Tiger division?), our den leader reminded me that we were going on a field trip Monday. She gave me the form to sign, and as I was filling out the paperwork I asked, "Where are we going, again?" She told me we were taking a hike...TO CASEY'S (the neighborhood convenience store). Oh-kay? This is wrong on so many levels, but I didn't argue because I'm trying very, very hard not to be "that mom" in the pack. Really, just because I equate hiking with state parks, doesn't mean everyone else has to. So I was all like, "Why the convenience store?" I was told it was to learn about nutrition and making money decisions. Hmmm. Not too sure about that one, but I was going with the flow.<br /><br />So tonight, our little den took out for the sketchy side of town to go to the gas station. Thank goodness it was still light. When we got there, we talked about all the things in the gas station and how the snacks were at the front and blah, blah, blah. Then, each Scout got a little money to spend. This is where I'm still a little flabbergasted. One of the dads said to me and everyone else in the store, "I need a snack and I'm buying this (holding up a giant Pepsi and king size candy bar). No wait actually, the government is buying me this." HE WAS HOLDING UP HIS EBT CARD!!! Ok, where I come from a) you eat a little healthier than that (unless there are donuts in the lounge), b) you don't shout it from the rooftop that you are spending everyone's tax dollars for a sugar fix, and c) if you do have an EBT card, you buy real food for your family. PLUS, part of our trip was about nutrition, and everything he chose I'm pretty sure was in the "fats and oils" food group.<br /><br />I know I gave him a look, I couldn't help it. Maybe I am "that mom", and that's ok.Frau M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/09849486895019554304noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2424499236885045357.post-6005608317404672422010-03-21T21:10:00.005-05:002010-03-21T21:39:46.363-05:00Why did it have to be on Saturday?The snow that is. You see, by the building of the new high school carrying over into August, we did not start until after Labor Day, therefore giving up a chance of any spring break. At all. None. The big goose egg. Nada. Oh wait, there is Good Friday, but that's the only full day off until the end.<br /><br />I've got to tell you. I need a break. We all need a break. We are at the time in the year where we are tired of pretty much everything and everyone. Teachers are catty with <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">each other</span>. Students wear on the nerves even faster. A good week of lazing around the house and not getting dressed until 10AM would help a lot. <br /><br />Just last week I called my sister to chat. I forgot she was off school for the whole week. This is how it went.<br />Me: Hey how's it going?<br />Her: Fine, we went to the zoo today.<br />Me: What?<br />Her: We're off so I thought it would be fun.<br />Me: Oh (crying silent tears so I wouldn't make her feel bad).<br /><br />That's why I got <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">soooooooo</span> excited when snow was <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">forecasted</span>. Until it started snowing on Saturday during the pinewood derby (3 1/2 hours of my life that I can't get back, but <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">yay</span>! for a first place finish in the Tiger Cub division!). So...Saturday the snow came dashing my hopes of a Monday <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">snow day</span>. By Sunday afternoon the roads were great. So, I will be getting up before the crack of dawn (thanks a lot daylight savings) tomorrow. In the shower I will wish for a break. But, what you want and what you get are two very, very different things. At least it wasn't too cold to wear flip flops on our days off before school.Frau M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/09849486895019554304noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2424499236885045357.post-40283163807999038592010-03-17T14:36:00.002-05:002010-03-17T15:49:07.010-05:00Adventures in babysittingSometimes, when the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">RGP</span> is out of the building, I get to pretend to be the Queen. Yesterday was one of those days. She asked me about two weeks ago, and I gladly accepted. I enjoy it and it's good experience. You see, someday I will be the one who has to find someone to cover the building for me. I say that absolutely definitively (redundant, I know). <br /><br />It's kind of strange putting on a different hat. Even though I'm still a teacher, for one day I was the principal. Friends, friendly colleagues, and <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">frenemies</span> treat you a tad differently. I can't really explain it, but I was a little lonely.<br /><br />One would think that being in charge for one day would give a girl something to write about. In this case there was so, so much that happened that it is all one big blur, really. All I really know is that my graduate tuition was not wasted on a career path that I am not actually interested in.Frau M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/09849486895019554304noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2424499236885045357.post-70079823916277434162010-03-14T09:52:00.003-05:002010-03-14T10:23:26.301-05:00The Rolling Stones said it bestYou can't always get what you want. I thought really long and hard about how to write this post. I knew if I wrote it on Friday, it could have very well turned into a multi-paragraphed rant. Everyone needs a little rant time every now and then, but that's not really my style.<br /><br />Here's what happened. Our assistant superintendent e-mailed the entire district staff at 2:51 p.m. on Friday (the same way you hope to get the machine when you intend to flake out on a friend, they can't react) to rock our worlds. The memo said that in order to keep class sizes to a minimum, children of teachers in the district must attend their neighborhood school or home district, unless there is room for them at the school of their parents' choice. I wouldn't be writing about this if it didn't directly affect my family.<br /><br />My first grader has only gone to the school where I teach. My daughter enters kindergarten next year. I had intended for her to go to the same school as well (mostly because my school really rocks-- I teach there, after all). That seems to be off the option board next year because we live in another school district. I have either taught or subbed (<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">SAHM</span> I'm not) in our district for 11 years, and I know how good it is. I know there could be room for the both of them next year, but I don't think I want her to start kindergarten one place, and then have to transfer because the numbers were to high later on (it's bad enough to do it to my first grader).<br /><br />So really, this has given me the push I might (probably) have needed to explore the district where we live. Sometimes, you get what you need.Frau M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/09849486895019554304noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2424499236885045357.post-5558052239529686702010-03-12T18:07:00.007-06:002010-03-12T19:11:35.171-06:00Activate the Plan!For the last few days, I have noticed that my preschool daughter has become increasingly snarfley*. This is our fourth round. Someone (probably me) sneezed in her general direction. Yesterday, she started the coughing. I sent her to school with strict instructions to blow her nose when she started coughing and to make sure she drank a lot of water. When I picked her up she was coughing even more than in the morning. The afterschool program lady made sure to tell me that she was coughing a lot. Apparently it was not enough to call me to come and get her. However it WAS still enough for afterschool lady to make it a point to pull me aside and tell me about it with a raised eyebrow (you know the one your mother uses on you).<br /><br />When we got home, I gave her some honey elixir and a drink. Her seal impersonation continued into dinnertime. My DH looked at me and said the fateful words, "She can't go to school tomorrow." Insert alarm sounds here. In my mind I'm all like, "Man your stations we are at DEF CON 1!!!" Instead I said, "I agree."<br /><br />The plan for who stays home is quite elaborate. First, I asked DH if he had any appointments during the day. He said no but his rotation for call-out started at midnight. The next step is my mom** (love ya!). I had already talked to her and she was hanging with my nephews for early out. Then comes me. I called my really great principal (or RGP from now on, and I promise I'm not saying this sarcastically) to ask for a sub. I already had one for the afternoon because I was going on my daughter's field trip (she cried big boohoo tears when she learned she couldn't go), but now I needed one for the morning, too. I had to leave a message on her really echoey answering machine. Then, the waiting game began, and I set out to find some review work online (<a href="http://superteacherworksheets.com/">superteacherworksheets.com </a>is AWESOME).<br /><br />Not too long later, RGP called me back and gave me the news that while I did have a sub for the afternoon, she wasn't sure if I would have one for the morning. Yikes. My actual friends were going to be so mad at me when they each got eight from my class.<br /><br />The good news is, that when I came in to leave my sub plans/assignments (consisting of roughly 10,000 worksheets...because you know what they say about idle hands) my afternoon sub was there and was just going to do the whole day for me. Yay! The bad news? We didn't get to go rollerskating and we're out of Kleenex.<br /><br />*made up word<br />**eliminated from continuum if there is need for a "burp bowl"Frau M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/09849486895019554304noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2424499236885045357.post-84465107219606340272010-03-05T19:11:00.004-06:002010-03-06T08:22:50.102-06:00Hey, this is kind of like a fancy restaurant...said my seven year old as we begin our candlelight feast of bologna sandwiches. Why oh why would you have <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">cold cut</span> sandwiches and chips on a Friday night, you ask? Shouldn't you be making something like a delicious turkey breast coated in herbs? Why, yes that is what I should have been making.<br /><br />Here's how it started. I mean I don't know exactly how it started at the transformer. I'm assuming some random squirrel took a game of Truth or Dare a little too far. Like, "Hey Rocky, here's your dare...you have to go to the transformer and do a small dance on top." Rocky chuckles to himself as he thinks, "Oh man, this is too easy." Little did he know this would be his last dance, ever. Did I ever tell you my favorite comic is The Far Side?<br /><br />Back to my house. I'm on the stairs doing part one of my basement circuit (who needs a personal trainer?) and the lights go off. I go up the stairs muttering, "Will you all please leave the lights alone?" I flick the switch...nothing. I go back downstairs into the family room. Nothing. I go back upstairs and the kitchen is totally dark. I did have a turkey breast cooking in the oven. Now it is just in the oven. Then I proceeded to call the electric company. It is never a good thing when you call and immediately go to hold after business hours. Finally, the operator comes on and takes my name and address, then informs me that there is a large outage in our area. She does not tell me when I can expect the wonder that is electricity to refill my home.<br /><br />Meanwhile, we are all famished. I decide to make sandwiches. On the count of three, I grab meat and mayo as quickly as possible from the refrigerator (she didn't give me a timeline for the power to come back on so I had to preserve the cold). We all sit down to the table around a giant lilac candle (those teacher presents do come in handy sometimes), when my son notices the ambiance. There's nothing like a sandwich and Cheetos eaten in <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">mood lighting</span>.Frau M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/09849486895019554304noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2424499236885045357.post-86622572112574726842010-03-04T10:05:00.004-06:002010-03-04T16:16:22.164-06:00P-I-Z-Z-A PAR-TYYou're a <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">rockstar</span> if you read the title to the tune of "Saturday Night" just now. You and I should go for chips and salsa...soon. Although, I'll warn you in advance that I might be funny and you could end up spewing soda out of your nose while laughing uncontrollably. Might not happen, but be advised all the same.<br /><br />But, I digress. Twelve of my friends qualified for our first ever Behavior Celebration complete with pizza, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Kool</span>-Aid, cookies and chips. They could have only two notes on their behavior calendar for the entire month of February. No easy task for anyone because my elementary nemesis of "talking at appropriate times" counts on the calendar.<br /><br />I forget how easy the young ones are to impress. I heard several of them say, "This is the best day I've ever had." Really? The BEST day ever? Really? Talk about a huge ego boost. My company + a slice of Domino's goodness = THE BEST DAY?<br /><br />I wonder what would've happened if I had given them candy, too?Frau M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/09849486895019554304noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2424499236885045357.post-49273775846773294942010-03-02T10:13:00.005-06:002010-03-05T19:11:46.037-06:00Is "Do Your Best" really the motto?Because if it is, then assistant pack leader and den leader, I'm worried. We had den meetings last night for the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Cubscout</span> in my home. I was the one who went. It was mostly because I love my husband so I took one for the team. It was painful.<br /><br />Our pack was assigned to make the centerpieces for the community banquet. Did our den leader have a cohesive plan? No. Did the other person in charge have a plan? No. Did they have a bunch of random supplies? Yes. I mean really I'm all for creativity but how in the world are they going to use 24 ink pens and <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Styrofoam</span> balls to make a centerpiece. I'm good, but I'm no Vern Yip (for you <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">HGTV</span> watchers) nor <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">MacGyver</span> when it comes to making things. I tried very hard not to get the look on my face that says, "You're an idiot." Not so sure I was successful.<br /><br />Then, THEN...they could not, would not (Happy Birthday Dr. Seuss) make a decision about what it should look like. Meanwhile, the Scouts are losing it. The siblings of the scouts are EVERYWHERE. I'm about to pull out my teacher voice on everyone in the room. Finally I said, "Here's the plan. You do this, you do this, you do this...and so on." Everyone listened (reluctantly on the part of some people, but she didn't say anything aloud after I gave her a "Save it Sister" glance), and they did what I said, and our centerpiece looks great. You know, for something that I pulled out of my hat using popsicle sticks, construction paper, a pot and markers.<br /><br />I think I deserve a badge.Frau M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/09849486895019554304noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2424499236885045357.post-6388295248539824262010-02-22T08:05:00.004-06:002010-03-04T16:19:06.011-06:00Who's the lucky one now?The inevitable snowstorm that was headed our way didn't happen. However, it did snow and freeze a little bit causing a LATE START today. Holla. I didn't think it was going to happen. My BFF texted me last night that they had a snowday today. I looked outside after moving several piles of papers off my lap. Nothing. I went back to grading/planning and worked a little late. This morning, my alarm clock went off and no call. I stayed in bed for a few minutes just waiting. Nothing. I thought to myself, "Get up, or you will have to use your scary eyes with the kids to get them moving." So, I reluctantly stumbled out of bed and on my way to the bathroom...the phone rang. Could it be? Yes! LATE START. Almost as good as not going at all, and you don't have to make it up. Take that Teacher from the Ghetto who flagrantly flaunts her good fortune to me.Frau M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/09849486895019554304noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2424499236885045357.post-85357235327711558622010-02-19T17:10:00.003-06:002010-03-04T16:19:39.296-06:00Once upon a time...I was young. I looked young, felt young and probably even acted young (it's the privilege of youth to be stupid, I think). In my very first year of teaching, I took a group of eighth grade girls to a science for girls conference at a university. While at said conference, the teachers were on a break from their session (the girls were in theirs). I went to the restroom and a <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">professory</span> looking woman saw me in the hall out of the corner of her eye, whipped around and said, "Young Lady..shouldn't you be in your session!?" My face turned really red as I stammered, "But, I'm the teacher." I'm not even sure she believed me, but said sorry nonetheless. Nowadays, I would have said to her quite triumphantly, "Absolutely not, but thank you <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">sooooooo</span> much for the compliment!" Subtracting a couple of decades doesn't hurt my feelings. Ever.<br /><br />There were many times during my first years of teaching when I was mistaken for the high school helper in my class. Parents said at conferences, "You're the teacher?" I was the youngest member of the staff. I had absolutely no street cred at all.<br /><br />So it was today while at <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Walmart</span> (I was picking up groceries before the inevitable snowing in <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">forecasted</span> for the weekend) that I put a bottle of wine (for cooking of course, Mom) on the conveyor belt to the register. I had my license all ready to go because I am almost always carded when buying cooking wine. When the prompt to ask for age of the buyer came up, the cashier looked at me skeptically and actually asked, "Are you under 40?" Like she couldn't decide whether or not I was. WHAT!?!? When did that become something someone would ask me? Do I look over 40 to you? WHAT!? I'm afraid I was a little abrupt (sorry nice cashier lady)when I answered/shouted so the people behind me could hear, "YES I'm UNDER 40 and HERE IS MY DRIVER'S LICENSE SO YOU CAN CHECK!"<br /><br />George Burns said "You can't help getting older, but you don't have to get old." So theoretically, I shouldn't worry. The actuality is that in about five minutes I am going to be checking for wrinkles and slathering my face in <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Olay</span> while holding back tears. Happy Friday to me!Frau M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/09849486895019554304noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2424499236885045357.post-23294969317126665032010-02-18T15:55:00.005-06:002010-03-04T16:20:10.619-06:00Open Letter to Passive AggressivesDear Passive-Aggressive Person,<br /><br />It has come to my attention, by attention I mean it is totally glaringly obvious to EVERYONE that you have an issue with dealing (and I'm not talking about cards here). Your job is no harder than anyone <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">else's</span>. Please don't yell at, talk down to, or anything else me and laugh at the same time as if it were a joke. You and I both know you weren't kidding. And really, it just makes you seem like you might need a check-up from the neck up. Plus, it makes me cry a little (not in front of anyone but DH, but still). It is not my fault if I did not know exactly the way things work because you were a) too busy to tell me what I needed to do, b)I didn't even know what questions to ask or c) both a and b (ding, ding). A wise person (I'm not sure who) once said blame and bitterness are like drinking poison and waiting for the other person to die. You're only hurting yourself. Again, totally <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">unnecessary</span> for your shenanigans. Just tell me what to do and be kind. Basic respect is all I am asking. Thank you for your time and consideration in this matter.<br /><br />Sincerely,<br />Frau M<br /><br /><br /><br />P.S. During class meeting when my friends and I are discussing the way someone made us feel sometimes I will say something like this, "If what I said made you take a sharp inhale before saying, 'Is she talking about me?' I probably was."Frau M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/09849486895019554304noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2424499236885045357.post-27756981881652254492010-02-13T09:09:00.004-06:002010-03-04T16:20:36.908-06:0011 down 19 to go!Nineteen more Valentine parties, or fewer if I take early retirement or am fired...whatever. Class parties can be great, but it is always with a sense of dread that I face them. It's like a root canal. The words are very scary and you get all nervous building it up in your mind, but then it's not the worst thing ever. Then you realize you got all worked up for nothing. But, man are you tired when you get home.<br /><br />Class parties are the same. The potential for disaster is always there. All day long your friends wait, and ask, "When is the party again?" even though a smart teacher puts it on the whiteboard for all to see because no one wants to say "2:15" a gazillion times. By 1:30 the room is literally vibrating with excitement. I think if you went outside my school yesterday it would have been visibly shaking.<br /><br />Finally at 2:00 (white flag in hand) we started the party. Valentines were passed. Snacks were approved for allergy sufferers. Games were played and crafts were made. Students were reminded, unsuccessfully, not to eat all their candy (my first grade son was JACKED UP when he got in the car causing Milkshake Friday to be postponed).<br /><br />And then it was over. We packed our bags and left. Every teacher I encountered in the hall had the same dazed expression. But, we made it all in one piece. Just to do it again next year. Can't wait.Frau M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/09849486895019554304noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2424499236885045357.post-37990524165110783572010-02-11T18:03:00.002-06:002010-02-11T19:08:30.978-06:00Trapdoor DreamsDo you ever wish that there was a button you could push and whatever was bothering you just fell through the floor? Like when you were in college and that annoying non-traditional student asked <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">soooooooooo</span> many questions that everyone openly sighed and rolled their eyes whenever said student raised his/her hand. Wouldn't it have been super if you could have just pressed a button and down they went? Gone. Not harmed, but gone nonetheless. There are a great many things in my life that I could just trapdoor. I will narrow it down to<br />1. Broken Coke/extortionist machines. First it is broken, now it costs $.75 for a can. A CAN! It's not liquor for crying out loud. Good thing I have cut back because, seriously I can't afford that kind of cash. <br />2. Copy center mistakes. For the love where are my copies? At least my students are happy because there is no morning work.<br />3. Snow covered playgrounds that cause classroom fever/general <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">wonkiness</span>. Just one day outside is all I ask. It was so cold last time we were out, but we went out anyway Just. Because. We. Could.<br />4. Classroom romance. Of course, I was a total boy-crazy nerd when I was in school. I even gave my kindergarten boyfriend extra Juicy Fruit in his Valentine. I think it was after the gum that he kissed me behind the art easel. So now the very same nightmares I caused my teachers are mine. Sorry Mrs. T. it wasn't anything personal.<br />5. Anyone doing an Eeyore impersonation. Laugh a little.<br /><br />So if you see me <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">inadvertently</span> tap the table...I am dreaming of sending something down the chute.Frau M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/09849486895019554304noreply@blogger.com0