Quarters in the Jar

2011-08-02T21:05:00.002-05:00

Things to do last night

2010-05-08T15:43:00.004-05:00

1. Lose house/truck keys (check)

2. Burn dinner a little (check)

3. Poke finger multiple times with sewing needle while furiously putting Cubscout patches on uniform only to find it wasn't necessary to wear it to the graduation picnic (check)

4. Break #1 Rule for life (check)

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 probably some easy step and I didn't need to stress). Thankfully, because I only halfway know what I'm doing, Blogger auto archives, and I was able to reload my page. But now, as you can see it is waaaay 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:

payaquarter.blogspot.com

So, lesson learned. Again.

Brought down the hammer, did you?

2010-05-04T18:57:00.003-05:00

That's what my DH said when I told him about my day. The actual conversation went a little something like this...

DH: How was your day?
Me: I think my principal and the Behavior Interventionist might have black listed me today.
DH: Reeeeally. Why do you think that?
Me: Oh, well...some of the choices that were made by students warranted a trip up the hall.
DH: How many?
Me: 6
DH: WHAT? Is that like some sort of record?
Me: I think so.
DH: Well you know what I always say...
Me: Do it once do it right?
DH: No
Me: 12 hours bottle to throttle?
DH: No
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.
DH: Go big or go home.
DH: And you did.
Me: And I did.

I'm almost positive...

2010-05-03T20:43:00.003-05:00

Teacher Appreciation Week was not even marked on their calendar. However, the USPS did recognize it today. YAY! 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.

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 couponing/sample sites each day to check out the deals. They also help me stick it to Walmart (also another "problem").

So a few weeks ago, one of the sites was promoting the Sample Showcase from the post office. As I signed up, I thought, "Hmm 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.

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.

I'm done.

2010-04-28T17:58:00.002-05:00

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 Walmart?" But, that is not the point of this post.

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 rockstar 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?

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."
"OH NO YOU ARE NOT!" I thought, but said, "Did you tell the whole story?"
"Yep, BME...done," said the student.
"Are you sure?" I asked with tears welling up while I stared at the three misspelled, mispunctuated sentences.
"Yep. Can I draw now?" the student asked.
"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.
"Oh, can I close my eyes?" the student asked.
"Sure." I said as a little of my teacher heart broke.

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.

Links in a food chain

2010-04-23T18:58:00.002-05:00

It all started on Wednesday night when my supercolleagues 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 the nature 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 JH 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.
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.

She did the whole poem in the car (using her very best sing-songy 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."

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.
Apparently, she could tell us the poem because the presentation uses it every. single. time. Evidenced by my supercolleagues faces when the naturalist had us all join arms and say, "Links in a food chain."

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 supercolleagues replied, "Sun to grapes, grapes to us...Links in a food chain." That's right.

Dear School Year,

2010-04-19T21:39:00.004-05:00

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 each other. 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.

Love,
Frau M.

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.

What's grosser than gross?

2010-04-14T18:08:00.002-05:00

"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.

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 roadtrip we would have stopped roughly 45 minutes after the first bottle of water (critiquing the driver does not compare to wrangling 24 students). Anywho, I did the fastwalk to the bathroom (the one that is still fast, but doesn't jiggle your bladder).

That's when the most gross/perplexing thing that has ever happened to me in my whole entire career occurred. I went to pull the toilet paper, and there were poop streaks on it. At first I was all, "EW! EW! EW!" 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.

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 Unsee."

Must resist mulch pile...

2010-04-08T18:00:00.002-05:00

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).

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.

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.

Mother of Pearl I need to work on that pesky inferring some more.

Ant Apocalypse

2010-04-06T10:34:00.003-05:00

At least that's what the little ant survivors called the variety of poisons sent their way last night.

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 uninterrupted 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?

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 asphyxiating myself this morning did not do the job and DH is equally creeped out by unexplained insects. After school, I stopped at Wal-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 Cubscout 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 Orkin.

So $16.62 later the ants are gone. I am not using insane amounts of disinfectant. All is well.

Street cred

2010-04-02T09:41:00.003-05:00

Coming 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."

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 deeeeeeep hole after pulling them across the yard. Thank you Radio Flyer for the help).

But now, I do have kids, so I do know it's hard.

The last minute...

2010-03-27T22:48:00.003-05:00

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.

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 Purex), 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 Geographics from 1972.

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.

You're kidding, right?

2010-03-22T21:10:00.003-05:00

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.

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.

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.

I know I gave him a look, I couldn't help it. Maybe I am "that mom", and that's ok.

Why did it have to be on Saturday?

2010-03-21T21:10:00.005-05:00

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.

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 each other. 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.

Just last week I called my sister to chat. I forgot she was off school for the whole week. This is how it went.
Me: Hey how's it going?
Her: Fine, we went to the zoo today.
Me: What?
Her: We're off so I thought it would be fun.
Me: Oh (crying silent tears so I wouldn't make her feel bad).

That's why I got soooooooo excited when snow was forecasted. Until it started snowing on Saturday during the pinewood derby (3 1/2 hours of my life that I can't get back, but yay! for a first place finish in the Tiger Cub division!). So...Saturday the snow came dashing my hopes of a Monday snow day. 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.

Adventures in babysitting

2010-03-17T14:36:00.002-05:00

Sometimes, when the RGP 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).

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 frenemies treat you a tad differently. I can't really explain it, but I was a little lonely.

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.

The Rolling Stones said it best

2010-03-14T09:52:00.003-05:00

You 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.

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.

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 (SAHM 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).

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.

Activate the Plan!

2010-03-12T18:07:00.007-06:00

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).

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."

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 (superteacherworksheets.com is AWESOME).

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.

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.

*made up word
**eliminated from continuum if there is need for a "burp bowl"

Hey, this is kind of like a fancy restaurant...

2010-03-05T19:11:00.004-06:00

said my seven year old as we begin our candlelight feast of bologna sandwiches. Why oh why would you have cold cut 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.

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?

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.

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 mood lighting.

P-I-Z-Z-A PAR-TY

2010-03-04T10:05:00.004-06:00

You're a rockstar 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.

But, I digress. Twelve of my friends qualified for our first ever Behavior Celebration complete with pizza, Kool-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.

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?

I wonder what would've happened if I had given them candy, too?

Is "Do Your Best" really the motto?

2010-03-02T10:13:00.005-06:00

Because if it is, then assistant pack leader and den leader, I'm worried. We had den meetings last night for the Cubscout 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.

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 Styrofoam balls to make a centerpiece. I'm good, but I'm no Vern Yip (for you HGTV watchers) nor MacGyver 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.

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.

I think I deserve a badge.

Who's the lucky one now?

2010-02-22T08:05:00.004-06:00

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.

Once upon a time...

2010-02-19T17:10:00.003-06:00

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 professory 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 sooooooo much for the compliment!" Subtracting a couple of decades doesn't hurt my feelings. Ever.

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.

So it was today while at Walmart (I was picking up groceries before the inevitable snowing in forecasted 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!"

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 Olay while holding back tears. Happy Friday to me!

Open Letter to Passive Aggressives

2010-02-18T15:55:00.005-06:00

Dear Passive-Aggressive Person,

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 else's. 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 unnecessary 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.

Sincerely,
Frau M

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."

11 down 19 to go!

2010-02-13T09:09:00.004-06:00

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.

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.

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).

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.

Trapdoor Dreams

2010-02-11T18:03:00.002-06:00

Do 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 soooooooooo 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
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.
2. Copy center mistakes. For the love where are my copies? At least my students are happy because there is no morning work.
3. Snow covered playgrounds that cause classroom fever/general wonkiness. 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.
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.
5. Anyone doing an Eeyore impersonation. Laugh a little.

So if you see me inadvertently tap the table...I am dreaming of sending something down the chute.

That ice cube thing really does work!

2010-02-08T08:34:00.003-06:00

It is an old teachers' tale that if one flushes an ice cube at night, the following day will be a snow day. I'm guessing that this only actually works in conjunction with a snow forecast, but I haven't tried it when the forecast is in the 50's with sunshine. So, last night right after the barbecued beef sandwiches and the Who, I ran into the kitchen to grab a cube. My DH caught me just as I stepped into the hall headed to the bathroom.

DH: What are you doing with an ice cube in the hall?
Me: Ummm, getting ready to flush it.
DH: ????
Me: If I flush it, tomorrow will be a snow day and you won't have to worry about me driving on the icy roads. (I tried very hard not to sound condescending because it's not common knowledge, plus he hates it when I go all teacher on him)
DH: You really are a slacker.
Me: I'm doing it for other people, too. Not just my own selfish purposes.
DH: Right, right, you are a true Slacker.
Me: If you'll excuse me, my fingers are cold and this thing is dripping.
DH: Go ahead. Slacker.
Me: Flush.
DH: I hope that works out for you, slacker.

Flash-forward to 5:37 a.m. I checked the clock. Ring ring (my home phone). I spring out of bed and run to the phone in record time. I think I even answered it on the first ring. It is Ms. Third grade telling me we don't have school. IT WORKED!!!! I totally wasn't expecting it, but IT WORKED! I call Creative Genius to let her know the news, and prance back to bed. Just as my head falls to my pillow I say to DH, "I may be a slacker after all."

Did you check the "I don't have anything to write about folder?"

2010-02-04T17:58:00.002-06:00

There are sooooooooooo many things that I could write about. But, in the interest of being a professional, I won't. Look out DH, I have a bunch of things to say tonight. I have had a bit of writer's block this week. How to keep a blog light and funny without losing my mind and typing in all caps after the myriad of tomfoolery that is a public school? That being said, I can totally empathize with my little friends who can't think of anything to write about. I don't think it is so much that they can't think of anything, but rather the things they think of aren't things they think I (or their classmates) would want to hear about. It is hard. When I help them find an idea, it validates their own thinking and puts my stamp of approval on it.

Just this week my son (first grader) said, "Mom, guess what my teacher wanted me to write about?" Of course I asked him what it was and he replied, "WIN-TER." In case you couldn't tell that was his exasperated tone (usually saved for his slowpoke preschool sister). I said, "Wow, that must have been really easy for you." And, I wonder why both my kids are so stinkin' sarcastic. Then he told me, "That was the worst one ever and I couldn't think of a thing that was good about winter until I thought of one thing." What was the one thing he wrote?
"There is one good thing about winter. Sometimes it is too cold and there is no school." That's my boy.

So my new resolution (I know, I know, you're supposed to make them in January) is not to get frustrated with my reluctant writers because they probably can't think of anything they think will meet the standard. Because I refuse to believe they are all trying to avoid writing.

It's Rantastic!

2010-02-01T15:28:00.002-06:00

AKA Mama Don't Play. Well, as you have read, my friends (using the term loosely these days) are a hot mess of misbehavior. Last week is something I can only refer to as a trainwreck. So Friday I brought my Viola Swamp persona and let them experience that. They didn't like it so much. Even Mr. Too Skinny for His Pants asked if I was ok, or not. So in honor of my new leaf of reining these people back in, I declared it Mama Don't Play Monday (alliteration and rhyme...look out Poetry Month). What happens on MDPM, you ask? Let me just tell you...

Every student got a calendar. They got one warning, and then I would write the behavior in the datebox. After that...Think Sheet...YIKES. At the end of the day I put smileys on those with no writing. NO ONE wants writing on their calendar. NO ONE. I know I wouldn't. Especially seeing as your parents must initial it each night. There is no hiding until Friday progress reports. This worked like a dream.

In other news...my tile is finished and I plan to begin the 27 loads of laundry that have amassed themselves in the corner of my bedroom. They won't go down easy, I'm sure. Baby steps.

Lukewarm Turkey

2010-01-30T14:10:00.003-06:00

I have never liked the taste of water. I know water doesn't taste. But, I grew up in a college town where students buy bottled water by the gallon, just to avoid drinking from the tap. So, yeah it does taste, and it's bad. Currently, I have well water which in most cases doesn't taste or even tastes sweet. Not our water. My dad won't even drink it because he thinks it smells like eggs. I just don't care for it. So, all this time (my whole adult life) I have consumed Diet Coke like it was water. Not exactly the picture of good nutrition.

Apparently, this causes the breakdown of tooth enamel which in turn causes cavities. Which in turn cost extra money. This leads me to my declaration. I am going to cut my soda consumption to once a week. Notice I didn't say caffeine (I don't know if I could function without it, and I don't think my students want to be the ones who find out if I can). No more trips to the pop machine on plan...no more Diet Coke and air lunches...no more. I'll be crabby at first, but in the long run dentures are hard to maintain, and I'm pretty sure toothless would not be a good look on me.

Are they dry, yet?

2010-01-25T18:24:00.000-06:00

Well...the awesomeness that is a home renovation continues on into its second full week. That being said, I had to go to the laundromat yesterday. Yuck. When I first got out of the truck, the fact that there were NO OTHER PEOPLE at the laundry should have alarmed me. The laundries in our neighboring town were packed. "That's odd," is what I thought. Who am I to listen to anyone? Including, but not limited to, my inner voice. So, I dragged my eight baskets of clothing into the laundry (Hey, a family of four wears a lot over the course of nine days). I got my change...15 dollars should do it, right?, and jumped in.

After I started the NINE washers, I settled in with my Glamour. I told you all I would do some trashy reading whilst the wash was going. Before I knew it, all the washers were finished. Now that I think about it, I really am starting to question the cleanliness of my clothes because I'm almost pretty sure that my washer in the kitchen takes a little longer on the wash cycle. Hmmm.

Then it was on to the dryers. Oh, the dryers. My, my, my. Where to begin? Let me start with how I put money into dryer #7, and all it did was rattle. There was no sign indicating it was out of order. Then I, after fiddling with the machine a bit (no one likes to be beaten by a dryer for goodness sake), got a wee bit smarter. Put only one quarter in until it starts, then and only then add money. Which leads me to the question just how many quarters does it take to dry my sweaters? Let me tell you, I was dropping quarters in the dryers like a senior citizen playing the slots after "eating their money's worth" at Harrah's buffet. Let me also tell you...$15 does not get your clothes dry. Nor does $18. But, it does get them dry enough to take home after you look at the clock and realize there are two hours of your life you can't get back, and you don't want to lose any more.

The good news in all of this is that I probably won't have to go to the laundry next week because ALL of the tile are put down. We might grout tonight or DH can do it without me tomorrow. Reason 5,000 I love training at night. This will put the washer/dryer back around Thursday. Yay! Who knew I would get so excited to do laundry?

Oh, and by the way...dryer 7? I told a nice old lady who came in as I was leaving not to use it, and get this. She said, "Oh, that one has been out of order for months!"

I guess she liked my dance moves

2010-01-23T10:53:00.000-06:00

Ok, as an elementary teacher, I know that February is the time when we start to look at seed catalogs (or at least I do, but I'm not planting any cucumbers this year because we still have about eight jars of pickles...we won't be hurting for dill in the apocalypse, right Reading Goddess?), no one wants to be inside because we have exhausted the "fun" that is the teacher's cabinet of Uno, Jenga and the like, and last but not least, love begins to blossom in the classroom. I like to blame the beginnings of love on all those conversation heart messages that are constantly in your face at Wal-Mart. I would be flattered if I was seven and someone wrote URAQT to me. It gets the kids to thinking...hmmm...."How can I push my teacher right on over the edge? Clearly talking constantly hasn't worked yet."

Which brings me to the point. Last night, my first grade son declared his undying love for another first grade girl. Irrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrk (brakes slamming in case you couldn't tell). This is how it went. He said, "Little girl broke up with little boy in my class, and now she's my girlfriend. I think I love her." I tried my best not laugh/cry and asked, "Well, that's nice, how did it happen?" He told me a tale of being partnered with her in music for their dancing unit and it went from there. I know three things. First, I wasn't ready for this. He has liked other girls before. But, not in a 'have a first grade romance' way. Second, it's not February, yet, so he is getting an early start on the lovefest that is a classroom at Valentine's. Last, his teacher is going to kill me.

Let's build something together

2010-01-21T10:12:00.000-06:00

Or, I have an even better idea! Let's not build something ourselves, but hire it done and tell everyone that we did it ourselves. But then I wouldn't have anything to write about today. For those of you who don't know, my husband and I thought we would use the three day weekend to retile our back hallway. Notice that I am writing this on Thursday. We are not done. I don't think we are too terribly close to being done either. My washer and dryer are in my kitchen. It all started when we ripped up the sticky tiles from the floor. There was an unidentified stain underneath. I'm not talking about a teeny-tiny stain. I'm talking about a Hey didn't I see something like this on Forensic Files stain? We determined it was not blood and moved on. Then, we thought... Let's rip out the walls because they are out of square and warped. That shouldn't take too awfully long, right? So the walls have been replaced, and we are laying the tile. The washer and dryer should be out of the kitchen by this time next week. Anyone want to go to the laundromat with me? No takers? Too bad because I would have bought you an Enquirer to read while we were there. Now I know what you are thinking. This is supposed to be a teacher blog. Not Frau complaining about all the hard work she is doing at home. Doing this job has taken me back to a huge (actually epic is a better word) argument I had with my ex-brother-in-law. He tried to tell me once that laborers work harder than teachers, and I totally got all red faced and told him what for. I just knew that teachers work wayyyy harder. Today, I'm not so sure because I am TIRED. Physically, I am soft compared to construction workers. I know I don't lift and carry things all day like they do. The math involved in any construction is not easy. However, they don't manage the education of 24 beavers (some not so eager). Maybe, just maybe, we work equally hard. Just in different ways. Dang it. I hate to admit when I'm wrong.

Oh weather, why do you hate me?

2010-01-12T12:13:00.000-06:00

As my faithful reader (thanks Mom) already knows, we had snow, followed by snow, followed by frigid temperatures here in the middle of the country. That only spells one thing for my friends. You know it...indoor recess. I don't mind having recess duty. Really, I mean it. I love fresh air. I love being outside. I do not love, however, being stuck in my classroom with 48 small people trying to entertain themselves with my small collection of games and scratch paper. Kids need to be outside.

On that note here is my list of: Top 5 Bad Indoor Recess Ideas
1. Running with scissors relay race
2. Half hour of Quaker's Meeting game
3. Really hard word charades
4. Arm wrestling tournament
5. Writing the sentence, "When the snow melts, we will play outside." over and over and over

It is supposed to be in the upper thirties later this week, so who knows if we will get to go out. But, we can hope.

But, I don't want to go to school in June!

2010-01-08T08:48:00.000-06:00

Alas, according to the district calendar, I will. You see, today is the second snow day (seriously, it's like I didn't shovel at all yesterday) thus far. We only have one make up day scheduled in before we start going into June. So after the fun that is Parent/Teacher conferences until 8PM for TWO DAYS IN A ROW. We will haul our tired little selves to teach, teach, teach (and definitely not show a double feature). That will be make up day number 1.

Don't get me wrong, we have days off between day 1 and June, but they are not make up days. Martin Luther King and all the presidents ever still get to be honored and celebrated. Really, I wouldn't mind using one of those, or even Good Friday (making it "OK Friday"), if it meant I didn't have to go to school in June. It's like some sort of mental block for me. SCHOOL?! in JUNE?! Pigs are flying?! Does not compute. June is for summer school. Which, I don't teach (even though those extra dollars would be a nice addition to my bank account come August).

Yes, yes I hear you rest of the working world. I am fully aware that all of you have to do your jobs in the summer. However, you do not work with small children for seven hours a day, go home to worry about said children, and use your off time working on ways to make these same children better. I'm going out on a limb here, but I would venture to say the majority of you non-public servant types leave your job at your office/cubicle/grill/whatever. Point being, I deserve June in its entirety.

This whole snow day thing is like buying a fancy Kate Spade on credit. You get your new purse (sleep in until the kids complain that they are hungry) right then, but the bill does come due, eventually. Bah.

Too many sweets will spoil your dinner

2010-01-05T19:47:00.001-06:00

The dinner of course being the learning that has to happen before any of my friends can even think about Third Grade. The sweets would be our third straight day of late start tomorrow. I came home so tired today because I crammed seven hours of learning into just five. Rock star, I know, but it has to be done.

Even though there was a significant amount of cramming, finger snapping, and utterances of, "Chop, chop." from me, something had to give. Sorry science, you got the boot today. My good friend who I will lovingly refer to as Ms. Kite (because teaching with her is like teaching with one) barely ever touched science or social studies and yet, around 75% of her class performs proficient or advanced on the state assessment. So...needless to say, I don't have feelings of guilt about skipping content every now and then.

Aside from the curriculum expectations, the end of the quarter is quickly approaching. There are checklists to check. Assessments to give. Benchmark books to hear read. AAAAAAAAAH! The only shiny moment of this assessorama (sounds like a sale on purses and belts, doesn't it?) came when the Reading Goddess said we didn't have to do the 5 billion sight word list this quarter.

So...for tomorrow, I will continue to push as hard as possible to get the job done. Maybe, just maybe the weather will turn, and we can get back to our balanced diet of seven hour days with a teeny tiny amount of wiggle room.

Stay of execution

2010-01-03T19:59:00.000-06:00

My husband answers the phone on the second ring. I am sitting across the living room holding my breath. I hear the distinctive voice of Ms. Third grade teacher (the one who is right before me on the calling tree). I can barely contain myself as he hands me the phone, "Talk to me Ms. Third," I say. She tells me the news...wait for it...LATE START! This means, I get to sleep in because I don't have to be in my classroom until 9:45. Didn't I just post how great that would be? Do I have more influence than I think? Then I call Creative Genius (aka rockstar across the hall). She asks for the "good news". I tell her and we laugh. I know my husband thinks I'm a total loon. This much joy and happiness for two extra hours. I know those who don't teach don't get it. I, like many of my supercolleagues did not darken the door of my classroom for any part of break. To me, going in on vacation is like taking your laptop to the beach. I did some work from home, but not nearly enough to bring my A game tomorrow. So this little late start is EXACTLY what I needed/prayed for.

How awesome was that?

2010-01-02T17:56:00.000-06:00

Reason number 8 million I love my husband: he bought me a massage package from the day spa. I went today and let me tell you, I'm going to need to do that at least once a week. Or more.

Slip, slip, slipping away

2009-12-31T11:59:00.001-06:00

My days of laughing (silently of course...I don't want to make him feel bad) at my husband as he staggers out of bed at least an hour before me are almost over. In just three short days, I will be the one getting up at 5:30 to get the circus train of a morning routine going. I love my job, but I wish school started at 9:00. I would even work until 4:00 and not complain during the dark days of winter. I am a dawdler by nature and getting out the door in a timely fashion is a source of stress in the morning.

Another thing I love about break is doing whatever I want, when I want. This of course refers not only to doing fun things with the kids, but snacking in the kitchen too. I know, I'm lucky because I get time off, and my husband who works just as hard as I do, does not. ever.