Saturday Goodness

Today is going to be a lazy day, and I love it.  Tonight we're headed to a friend's house for dinner, and I am to bring dessert.  I found this recipe:  http://thepioneerwoman.com/tasty-kitchen/recipes/desserts/molten-chocolate-cake/  And I'm pretty sure it's going to rock my world.  Now if only someone would go to the store for me...

Our apartment is currently a disaster, so I'm sure at some point today, someone will be cleaning it up.  Last night as I surveyed the damage of the week, Daniel pointed out to me that we needed to clean.  I suggested that we clean together, and he reminded me that 90% of the mess is mine.  It's true.  We've figured out that I tend to explode when I walk in the house.  Don't know why.  Always have.  Right, mom?  I walk in the door, take off my shoes on the conveniently-placed towel to avoid dragging snow through the baby-sized apartment, drop my lunch bag on the counter (unpacked, mind you), drop my "Teach to Reach" bag (my daily school-bag), take off my coat and scarf and fling them wherever I want, and hang up my keys and name badge.  I live in fear that some day, I will misplace my name badge, thus making it impossible for anyone to recognize me as a staff member.  Therefore, I guard that puppy with my life and, unlike anything else in the apartment, I always know where it is.  Strange...

Sometimes I don't understand myself.  My classroom (or at least my desk) is nearly always pristine.  I would pull my hair out if, in the midst of everything, my home away from home was a disaster.  My kitchen is normally clean.  It's at least never dirty, but it may be messy sometimes (like right now, gross).  However, the rest of our apartment fluctuates.  When it starts getting messy, I just let it go until (a) someone is coming over or (b) I can't find a shoe.  Then, when the cleaning commences, everything must find a home.  I'm notorious for asking Daniel to put away the one thing that is his while I wade in the piles of my own junk.  Any psychology majors out there want to contribute to the reason behind the problem?  I only majored in psych for a year, so I've exhausted all my potential solutions. 

Happy weekend, friends.

The fight that almost wasn't...

While in my classroom during passing period (shhhh, I'm supposed to be in the hall at that time, but I was doing some last-minute prep work...I'm a first year teacher...enough said), I heard what sounded like the beginning of a riot.  A few students in my room said, "Oh dang, you better go break it up."  Thus began the most awkward 30 seconds of my...day (again - first year teacher = regular awkward moments). 

As I walked outside, I saw the usual group of rowdies at their usual post.  However, I also saw more and more babies [students, of course (explanation as to why I call them "babies" to come later)] joining in on the festivities.  I looked around hoping to see one of the 7 male teachers in my area.  No such luck.  I felt as if I had no other choice, so I pulled up my big-girl pants and decided to intervene. 

I walked into the riot of babies [but really, there were at least 20 linebacker-sized (isn't that the biggest football position?)] boys huddled around a few in the middle.  With as much authority as I could muster, I hollered, "Gentlemen, break it up!  Get to class, now!"  Instead of invoking fear in the faces of the babies, several just looked at me as if I was an alien (a typical occurrence - I even cut my hair to stop being confused for a student!  Ugh.).  So I said again, "NOW gentlemen.  Get going." 

At that point, some sweet baby piped up and said, "But he's rapping!"  And it was true.  Gulp.  Oh dang.  Crap.  I have failed.  I am an alien.  I must retreat.  Fast.  However, the bell was about to ring, so I figured I had time on my side.  I reminded them again to get to class, and the riot slowly subsided. 

While observing the remainder of the "fight," (with arms crossed, of course), a male teacher from the area arrived on the scene (why, oh why just now?!).  He said, "Was something going on here or were they just being loud?"  Dangit.  He caught me.  Not wanting to feel entirely stupid, I responded, "Oh they were just being loud and they needed to get to class."  Totally convincing.

I returned to my classroom feeling entirely ridiculous and wishing I had responded in a different way.  Oh well.  Teaching is funny.  Babies (students) are funny.  They should be given more credit.  They regularly knock my socks off and make me (in their lingo) ROTFL (roll on the floor laughing, of course).  Love it.

bits of my mind

Today was the first day back after 2 glorious snow days.  To reflect the discombobulation of the week, here are some random thoughts...

The students are turning orange.  Literally.  To some of them, I want to say, "Sweeties, stop that dang tanning.  Now."

I have been told by 2 students that I need to work on my sense of humor.  Not sure if I should be offended or flattered - my sense of humor is obviously leagues above that of an adolescent...

Daniel just said he liked tonight's meal.  We had salad.  I asked for that statement in writing.  He will not grant my request.

My newest favorite show is "Brothers & Sisters."  I literally tear up every time we watch an episode.  So good.

Sweet moment of the day:  I had to write a referral, and as I was explaining the reason to the student, she became visibly (but not dramatically) upset.  We were able to chat about it, and I was able to offer her some grace and minimize the punishment.  Instances such as that are difficult and wonderful for me.  I love showing grace to the students, but I don't want to be a pushover.  However, knowing what I know about this sweet girl, it was a beautiful moment of repentance on her behalf and grace-offering on mine.  Love love love being Jesus to those kiddos.  Some days I do okay while other days I go home knowing that I was not an example of Christ.  Oh to be in the minds of my kiddos on both types of days...

Need a good book suggestion.  I know, I'm an English teacher and I should have a million books at my disposal.  I do, but sometimes I just need to be pointed in a certain direction.  Ideas??

Snow Day #2

Yesterday was snow day #1.  What a glorious day.  Here's how the day panned out...

• 5:20 am.  Alarm annoying rings.  Snooze is promptly hit.
• 5:30 am.  Alarm rings again.  Check WIBW online on space phone to see if school is canceled and I accidentally didn't receive the text.  To no avail.  Must shower.
• 5:45 am.  Turn on coffee.  Turn on computer to check WIBW.  
• 5:46 am.  Beautiful sound of a text message.  Snow day!!
• 5:47 am.  Run to bedroom.  Whisper (loudly), "Snow day!"
• 5:48 am-6:30 am.  Try to fall asleep.  No luck.
• 6:30 am.  Arise.  Netflix saves the day.  "Say Yes to the Dress" and "Keeping up with the Kardashians" occupy my time for too long...
• 8:00 am.  Awaken husband (he took a snow day too, yipee!).  
• 8:01-9:30 am.  Bfast.  "Brothers & Sisters."
• 9:30 am.  Dress for the bitter kalt.  Headed out to play with the nephew.
• 9:31 am-noon.  Play, chat, hot chocolate, snow pics, stamping wedding thank yous, etc. etc.
• Noon.  Disaster lunch.  Tortillini carbonara.  Too runny, too many flavors, too awkward.  NOT a repeat.
• Afternoon.  Clean bathroom, laundry, dust bedroom, address Christmas cards (still coming, patience please!), "Brothers & Sisters."
• Evening.  Monday night dinner with the Thiessens, "The Bachelor," finding out school is canceled again, etc. etc. 

A great day.  By the evening, I was ready to get back in the swing of things, but receiving the "School is canceled" text was just as pleasant.  Today is full of hanging out with the nephew:  play-doh, chalk drawing, Cars, and food...  A good day is ahead.

Also, a big happy birthday to my sweet ex-roommate Jes!  Love you!

Revelation of the Day

When I talk to my teacher friends, we often share ideas for lesson plans, projects, essays, etc.  After sharing said ideas, our typical responses are, "That's cool!" or "That sounds fun!" or "What an awesome idea!"  As I've been planning my current units (Picture Bride for my sophomores and To Kill a Mockingbird for my freshmen), I'm realizing that what educators think is "cool," "fun," or "awesome" does not mean the same thing to the kiddos.  Hmm... 

Kids love school because of the social aspect.  How can I accommodate their need to be socialized while also teaching them what they need to be taught?  How can I reconcile my definitions of "cool," "fun," and "awesome" to their definitions of the same words?  How can my teaching be relevant, refreshing, and enlightening while also being applicable to the standards? 

Oh Sunday afternoons, how I loathe and love you...

I feel old.

Last night, Daniel and I stole away for a night on the town (AKA:  a Washburn Rural High School home basketball game).  As soon as we entered the packed gym, I knew we would have a difficult time finding a seat.  I glanced quickly through the stands and found a student of mine.  He made eye contact with me, but immediately looked away.  I thought that if I could just catch his eye, I could ask him if the seats in front of him were saved.  To no avail.  He refused to look my way.  Strange.  I thought I had a good relationship with him.

Anywho...so I walked to where he was sitting and asked if the seats were saved.  He didn't really say anything, but he moved his coat.  I motioned to Daniel to join me, and he did so promptly.  I turned to my student and asked (in my very cool, outside-of-school voice), "Hey, how's it goin'?"  That's right.  I left the "g" off of "goin'" to seem like one of them.  Instead of making eye contact with his beloved English teacher and continuing on a lovely conversation, he avoided eye contact at all costs and muttered, "Good."  Lame.  I didn't fight it.  For the first time in my life, I was the uncool "older person" who the "cool" teenager refused to engage in conversation. 

Oh time, it flies fast. 

Friday Funnies

While making copies at an inhumane hour this morning, a woman walked into the teacher's lounge and complimented my hair (sweet lady).  However, what happened next disturbed my bubble in a way that has never been done.  The sweet, stranger-danger lady proceeded to touch my hair and asked how I style it.  I think I flinched, but SSD woman did not pick up on the hint.  It was brief, but I felt somewhat violated. 

It made me wonder about my obsession with touching people while I talk to them.  I must do it.  All the time.  Maybe it makes me closer to them.  Or maybe it makes me feel like they really want to hear what I have to say...  Perhaps I should stop this.  Perhaps this makes people feel uncomfortable.  I'll put some more thought to it.


Wish for the weekend:  a snow day on Monday...  Please.  Oh to have a day to sleep in, drink coffee, and read FOR PLEASURE.