Overheard... As in heard overly much...

On Friday I was walking down the middle school portion of our building. Five girls were in a giggling gaggle behind me and I overheard one of them whisper to the other, very loudly I might add, "She's a GIANT!"

For whatever reason, I'd had enough so I spun around and answered, "No she's not, but she is a TEACHER!" Then I explained to the girls that their behavior was very rude and unbecoming of ladies. Then I left them in the hallway, speechless.

I actually feel a little guilty about the whole mess. They were rude, but I doubt they understand why I got mad at them or if they do, I doubt they care. Girls really are brutal and that's just all there is to it. There is no doubt in my mind they knew I could hear them.

Here we go again

Last night I was on the phone with Mark, the Dining Hall Director from Camp, for an hour and a half. Here we go again.

This past weekend was an Order of the Arrow function. This is an honor society group associated with Boy Scouts. It's a smaller more dedicated group, and there are as many adult members as boys. Bunch of gossipy old women if you ask me. Goodness Gracious! Mark called full of all sorts of stories about backstabbing, conspiracies, coups and rumors. The stuff these people come up with. Also the way things get spread out over time. Problems that were in effect all summer are just now being discussed. Who will be in charge and how it's going to be next summer are all big topics of conversation. This is funny to me as we are nearly eight months away from camp. I mean I'm all for planning, but a lot changes for a lot of these boys around X-mas time and then we have to rework the whole system over again anyway.

Further, the different perspectives on the same issue are always amusing. It ranges from "These boys are examples and should be held to the highest standards" to "Boys will be boys" to "That's what we did when we were in camp" to "That's just camp..." Everyone's got an opinion and a "solution."

Like I said, here we go again.

Mostly I guess I find it disheartening that so little actually changes because of these discussions. Mostly it's just wind. And a lot of posturing.

Mark often tells me about how he's quit or so and so has said that they aren't gonna take this anymore or (and this is my favorite) how so and so put so and so in his place. High Drama!

Then there are also the complaints, "Sandy made medlodge a social hang-out!" "Mark is not customer friendly!" "There were too many people in this area and not enough in this one." "This department was run poorly!" "We should have had this instead of this..." Nothing in terms of constructive mind you, just putting down, insulting complaints.

Sometimes I wish I was in OA. I do a lot of work for the scouts and would like the recognition, but after just an hour of Mark's summary I'm pretty sick of the whole group, I can't imagine a whole weekend. I'm not clear what this whole process has to do with service anyway...

Here we go again.

Horse and Pie

Things are getting a bit wacky at school this week. We are raising money for The United Way. Teachers are involved in donation drives and such, but the students are as well. This year for the ninth grade we are having a penny war to determine two teachers who will get a pie in the face at the 9th Grade Pep-Rally next week. The teacher with the most money get's pie-d as does the teacher with the least. The Assistant Principal is one of the 14 staff who threw her name into the hat as those willing to be part of the competition. So am I. I am also running the drive.

The problem is one teacher (not me) has kidnapped the Assistant Principal's stuff horse and is holding it for ransom. The ransom, once paid will be put in the kidnappers can toward their total. The Assistant Principal thinks I did it. This is a problem as she keeps randomly searching my room to see if she can find the little bound and blind-folded horse. Now the kidnapper is sending her pictures of the horse with a pair of scissors pointed at it.

All of this is in good fun and thankfully The Assistant Principal has a sense of humor. Everyone here has a sense of humor and the jokes are starting to get slightly wild and crazy. I just wish I could convince this woman that it wasn't me!

Let's get ready to rumble!

Five fights have broken out at school today and it isn't even noon yet and it's only Thursday and they were all UNRELATED!

Yikes! What did these children eat for breakfast!?!?!?

Seriously, I've never gotten the whole fighting thing, especially at school. Boys I don't mind breaking up so much, they tend to be pretty peaceful about it. As long as everyone got in one swing for their "street cred" they are amicable about being broken up, thankful even. Girls on the other hand... Anyone who thinks they are the weaker sex should watch two teenage girls fight. Lord have mercy. Boys have rules, a code of ethics in fighting. Girls, not so much. They bite, scratch, slap, tear, pull. Talk about blood shed.

There is more drama in our hallways today than a Grey's Anatomy episode (though I am anxiously awaiting that premiere tonight.... McDreamy is too wishy washy for my taste for all that he's cute. I'd take McVet!... or even McSteamy... over him in a heart beat. )

Happy Thursday!

My own age

So this past month I am making a real effort to hang out with people my own age. This month I realized (sitting at home on a Friday Night) that most people I spend time with are either under 20 or over 80. This is not good. Not to say that those people are not good, just that it is easy to lose perspective on my life when it is always prismed through other generations.

Part of the issue is camp, I imagine. At camp we are all friends, and ageless. While I never lose sight of the maturity/age difference, I don't really think about it, notice it, etc. Then I come to school/work and kids in the same age bracket as my summer friends are now my inferiors, charges, students. This is a paradigm shift. Additionally I have Nana. Nana is not my sister, my husband or my child. This creates an interesting age relationship as our roles are kind of unique.

Now I have Robin, at work, and she is a good friend, but with three children under four, we don't have lots of time to "hang-out" and/or call and gab. LeeAnne, Bea, Jasmine are all in other states, which means I can gab, if I can catch them, but again, can't hang out. I noticed that with the exception of Lindsey, who helps me with Nana, I don't hang out with people, socially my age. Hanging out usually has to do with camp functions during the year, advising Explorers for my school or well, that's about it. I did/do have some friends my age in the area, but we all got so busy I lost touch.

So now I am reconnecting. In the process I'm also making new friends too, which is kind of interesting. I feel a little like a middle schooler ("Oh, do you think they like me?") but it's also kind of a new challenge. It goes well with the whole trying to get out and date thing too...

Here is the funny part. Last night I was getting ready to go to a "Trivia Night" I had been invited to at a local downtown establishment and Nana says to me,

"Don't do anything tonight you are going to regret in the morning."

"Nana, where do you think I'm going tonight?"

"On a date with a much younger man."

"Ah, well, I'm not. I'm just going to a restaurant to meet up with some friends for dinner."

"As long as that's all you are doing."

"Nana, I don't date the boys from camp."

"But that one came to dinner, wasn't that a date?"

"No, I was giving him advice about the girl he likes and he's my friend, so he came over."

"But you went on a date with him out a while ago."

"No, we carpooled to a meeting for camp. He's in college and couldn't afford the gas for the 60 miles round trip."

"Oh. Well have a good time tonight."

"Thanks, I'll try."

This is the other reason I need to get more friends my age. My grandmother thinks I am using the boyscouts as a dating service. While I am a little desperate for a date, I'm not that desperate. (Any of you who are from camp that are reading this, consider that your official notice... if you hadn't already recieved it... that I will not, no matter how much you beg, go out with you! Quit telling my Nana that we are! Actually quit talking to my Nana all together as you are giving her strange ideas!)

Also, while I wouldn't consider dating children "interesting" aparently my Nana thinks my life is a lot less boring than it really is. I'm not exactly flattered though.

Tagged

Dreaming Again tagged me. I have to tell you seven songs that have been in my head lately.


1. Invincible by Pat Benetar
~I use it in a class exercise, but it's a neat song.

2. We Didn't Start the Fire by Billy Joel
~ Again, part of classes, but still a cool song.

3. Albany by Roger Whitaker
~ This is a song about Norton Mackenzie and the story of the Eagle and the Raven in the tower over Norton's Green. Neat bit of history. Cool song.

4. One Girl Revolution by Superchick
~ My theme song. I listen to it whenever I need a pick me up.

5. Dancing When the Stars go Blue by Time McGraw
~ There is just something about this song that gets to me.

6. Old Rugged Cross
~ Still my favorite hymn.

7. Alabaster Box by Cece Winnans
~ This song is still my testimony...

As to tagging seven others, I've never been real big on that kind of thing, so... The first seven people that comment, "Got it" are the seven tagged. I'll look forward to seeing it on your blogs.

EEP! Must be Monday

Oh My!

So I brought my Mickey D coffee into class, put cream in my mug, grabbed a couple of Sweet and Lows from my stash and dumped those into the mug too. There seemed to be a lump of sweetness in one of the packages that just wouldn't let go so I flicked it, quickly and it went in.

Luckily I glanced in the mug before I dumped in the coffee.

A Cockroach was doing the back stroke in the cream.

I think it came out of the sweet n low. Not that it matters.

Must be Monday.

Yeah.

Asian/Oriental Coleslaw/Salad

The thing is, recipes are more like general ideas to me than directions, but with that in mind, the salad is very simple and the recipe is easy.

Mix one bag shredded cabbage with one bag of broccoli slaw. Then coat with dressing and serve. The trick is the dressing.

Dressing (I have no idea on amounts, so taste as you go.)

Vinegar (Rice Wine is best, just white if not, Balsamic is too strong)
Corn Oil (Not a lot or salad is greasy!)
Soy Sauce
Sugar
1/4 Bottle sesame Seeds (Toasted in pan first... Cover bottom of dry fry pan with black and white seeds and swirl until they begin to toast/pop/brown then add to dressing right before serving)
1 Vidalia/Sweet/Red Onion sliced thinly
2 Packets Top Ramen Oriental Seasoning Packets

Mix it up (except the sesame seeds) and let sit overnight.

Right before serving, toss it all together (also can break up noodles from Ramen and toss those in too, but I didn't at Bea's party) (If the dressing pools in bottom of bowl, pour out excess and save for another time rather than letting the stuff sit in it and get too soggy)

Rarely have any leftovers.

Good Stuff

You cannot be serious...

Last night I found out something that absolutely dropped my jaw.

My mother is "online dating." She talks to lots of men and even goes out with several of them, for coffee, window shopping at the mall, talking online and on the phone. She is quite the social butterfly. Now, she explained to me that she is not looking for a "physical relationship" with anyone, not even marriage, but just companionship and friends and that she is up front with these men about that. So apparently she then also helps these men, counsels them on their dates with other women as well. One gentleman, she helped him shop for a bit more stylish clothing and he often web cams with mom before he goes on other dates so that mom can help him makes sure he looks okay before he goes.

As my mother was explaining all this to me I was struck by an awful thought. Bear with me, and I hope you all understand, but...

My mother is a 55 year old, severely obese, mentally ill, unemployed, bitter woman, who makes it clear from the get go that she will not sleep with anyone, or even "neck" and yet...

She has more dates than I do!!!!!!!!

I'm not sure if I should laugh or cry. When I pointed this out to her, she laughed and said that it was because she answered everyone, and because I had standards I was looking for the real thing and therefore our "performance" could not be compared...

Intellectually, I understand that she's right, and that's fine, but the juvenile part of me is having a major temper tantrum this morning. If you know me, my mother or our history I imagine this is hysterical, if not, I hope I have conveyed just a little of the absurdity of this whole thing, but either way...

*** For the record, I am an overly tall, somewhat chunky/chubby 30 year old who carries loaded opinions with her at all times. I am by no means a man magnet nor would I ever expect to be, but I thought I at least had it over my mom!

Accidents, Mistakes and Bad Choices

It amazes me the way we categorize things that we do in our lives. I've really been laughing to myself lately as I read the news. Maybe you've seen some of the articles too?

Mom rewards son with Pot

Sex with Pupil "Bad Choice."

I wonder if these people know who they are kidding? There things were not accidents and they weren't bad choices, they were mistakes, as in error, as in wrong!

So often we call bad choices, accidents, and mistakes, bad choices. But do we really believe that?

Let me explain.

A student takes four Prozac, that were not his, and when we catch him he says, "It was an accident." OK. So these four pills happened to be rolling along the floor and you just happened to trip and fall and your moth landed on the pills and they shot up into your throat and you had taken them by accident? Then the boy adds, "It was the wrong choice." Well, yes it was, but his tone implies that he was "confronted" with two options, take Prozac not prescribed to me or don't take Prozac not prescribed to me. However, as he went looking for the first option, there was no sign in the hallway advertising it, he only had the choice because he created it. That was a mistake. Except even the word mistake seems like a cop out these days.

"I just made a mistake." they say. Like mistakes are no big deal. Well sometimes they aren't. But sometimes they are. Also, I tend to think of mistake as more like, "I meant to write the word grass, but wrote gass instead." That's a mistake. "I meant to say 'Why thank you, Mr. Red Convertible for cutting me off,' but instead it came out, '***#$%$*%!$*#*!!!!'" That's not so much a "mistake," in my mind. Now, having been cut off by people in red convertibles, I'm not sure it's uncommon or uncalled for...

The point is, when people have accidents, make mistakes and/or make bad decisions, why do we always try to make it sound less than it is? Is that for everyone else's benefit? "They won't think this is as stupid if I down play it?" Or, are we lying to ourselves, "If I use words indicating this was really not a big deal than it isn't?" Does that really work?

Something tells me we're going to regret this...

That's what the poster on my wall says. It's from Harry Potter Chamber of Secrets. Most teachers I know all want it, and it has even on occasion disappeared from my wall to be ransomed. I've ordered several of them to give as gifts this week.

I got the poster my first summer at camp for my wall there. It just seemed to sneak into my school stuff after and end up over my computer in class.

Today, when the grading program that the school is starting for the first time this year, with the thumb-print check in machine at both doors of the school being installed this week, the amount of children who are now failing my class, the amount of snot that is still packed into my head (Did I mention what a good time I had in Miami? This is apparently the price.) and the amount of children that were just pulled from my classes to be searched, I think this poster is particularly prophetic about my choice to get out of bed and come to work this morning.

the only thing I don't regret is the Egg McMuffin I had for breakfast this morning. Did you know that the real kind, the first kind, the kind with the ham are only 7 WW points? (Yes, I can make a better breakfast with fewer points, but not faster than drive through and hot and McDonald's!) That the apple Walnut Salad (with the Candied Walnuts and Yogurt!) is only 4 and that a whole container of Chicken soup from Campbell's is only 3? It is a sad testament to my day when the biggest thrill is the food and I'm on a diet!

Oh bother!

Full Head

Today my head is full of a lot of things.

I was teaching on a Tuesday, second period and the students were getting ready for a test in American Literature. Another teacher stuck her head in the door and told me to turn on CNN. Then the principal made the announcement. As soon as there was a break, I called my father. While he was no longer at the Pentagon (he retired sometime before) I had to know he was OK. Nothing much else was taught that day and I remember spending most of the day wiping the tears from my cheeks. There were heroes that day and there are villains. It is the single most devastating image of my life, replacing the day the Challenger exploded before my eyes in fourth grade. It is also I think one of the most defining event in modern American history. Today my head is full of that.

This weekend I made a new friend (doesn't that make me sound nine?). Actually I made several, but this lady was a real treasure. Her husband is a Army Chaplin in Iraq. Oddly she has been on my mind much today as I think of all the people in my life that I know and have yet to know, and because of 9/11 will never get to know. Today my head is full of that.

I am still sick. My sinuses are packed, my nose is running, my throat is sore and I have miles to go before I sleep. There is a ringing in my ears that will not stop and my head hurts. Yet I am so lucky and grateful to be alive, to live in this country, to have a job and a purpose, to have loved ones who love me back and to be whole. Today my head is full of that.

The only thing more full than my head, today, is my heart. How could it be otherwise? And on this day, a five year anniversary, I remember, and promise to never forget why.

Wake Up Call

One of my blog pals, methatiam, sent me an article and asked my opinion. Considering my growing frustration this past month with my students' lack of critical thinking skills, self discipline and motivation, not to mention my continuing frustration with an educational system that (because of "well meaning parents") continues to put more and more responsibility on teachers for a child's "success" which means A's, not actual learning, this article was a battle cry, a comforting voice (it's not just me!) and a well thought out picture of a big part of the problem. Read it yourself. But it's not short, just so you know. It was also odd to me that he asked me this on the same day that I read this post from another blog friend, Mel.

There is one other part to this issue that I think needs to be mentioned. Many students I deal with don't seem to suffer the anxiety this article mentioned, so much as an entitlement attitude. They can't fail, they are too protected, therefore I shouldn't put them in a position where they could fail and therefore it is not fair for me to make them work for it.

Maybe if Psychology Today is taking note of this the trend may swing back in the other direction. Eventually the issue will reach mainstream. Or at least that is my hope. As of today, parents still seem to think I work for them (because they pay taxes, and therefore they should get what they want... An A for their child), that it is parents and children against the teachers (I remember when I was in school and the parents sided with the teachers), and most importantly parents today (and yes I am speaking in generalities) seem to think that their children are extensions of themselves, possessions to augment their lives and an opportunity to relive their lives they way they think they should have gone.

The best gift my parents ever gave me, even in the midst of their divorce while I was in high school, was allowing me to fail in school and holding me accountable for it. Wasn't fun, wasn't easy and yes it made some things difficult for me to achieve as I moved through school, but, I still went to college (and even with a significant change of majors was done in four years) and grad school and am now a productive adult who pays her own bills. Heck, I even have a good relationship with my folks for the most part and my Dad and I are friends. When I messed up they corrected me, loved me, disciplined me if necessary and sent me on my way. My cousin, only two weeks younger than I, because his mother felt guilty that his father died when he was only 9 (and that he found his father's body) spent the rest of his childhood coddling him, making excuses for him and letting him have whatever he wanted and needed... Or said he did. His older brothers both finished college, have good jobs, got married, have children and are great guys to know. The youngest, the one my age (30) took several extra years to actually graduate from high school, has a child, but doesn't live with it, nor was he ever married to it's mother, and still lives at home with his mom. He tends to float from job to job, though I think he is almost finished with Fire-fighter school, so maybe he has finally found a place and thing important enough for him to buckle down. The thing of it is, the rest of the family seems to feel he is not very smart or talented. I think the opposite is true. There is a real possibility that he is smarter than I am. His mother is a great lady, really, but her choices seriously crippled his chances in life.

The other issue, to me, in all of this is a great conversation that went down on Mommy Life, Barbara Curtis' blog. Are the Children of Large Families Disadvantaged? My team teacher and I were discussing this issue in view of the article (I have no children, she has three under the age of four). One thing that big families have going for them is that with so many children, parents only have the time for the real parenting, not this over protection nonsense that seems to be the root of the problem with kids today. Until she and I read this article and discussed it, while I always felt there was something special about kids from large families, the connection wasn't made. Now I get it. That's not to say that large families are the only way to go or the best, just that this may be why so often I find kids and parents from large families more successful in school and what I prefer to deal with as a teacher. The comments on the post were also insightful, though a couple of people got some ruffled feathers. The post was not exactly about the same issue, but I think it strikes at the heart of the problem. There are two other articles that I think are an interesting compliment to this issue, in terms of the role of children and their purpose and therefore inversely how that must effect parenting. In a great editorial about demography it was pointed out why the nation was in jeopardy. I think it goes further than that when you also consider the issues of education raised in the article in Psychology today. Another terrific editorial in response to the one on demography, is, I think one of the real definitive issue here on why parents are the way they are with the kids. Children have become commodities. Under those conditions it makes sense that parents would want to "protect" their investment and not see it fail.

All of these pieces together just kind of clicked for me today.

The question is, what can any of us do about any of it, beyond how we raise our own kids. My team teacher feels, and I see her point, that people from my generation will raise their children differently because of what we are witnessing now from kids today. Maybe. Personally I think it is going to take another generation on top of this one to also deal with problems created by divorce, lack of male role models in the home because of divorce and more children outside of marital relationships, and just a general breakdown of American families. (Another issue for another post...)

I guess the point I wanted to make was that this article is amazing. I think it hits the nail on the head and I was thrilled to see it. I have already sent it to many teachers, friends and colleagues as I think it is very spot on for our kids. Unfortunately, no single article can begin to cover all of the problem. The fact that in my opinion, none of my students could be involved in a discussion on this topic, because none of them could make this many connections between different things they had read (ie critical thinking skills), is the illustration of the problem.

Killer puppets from outer space...

I hate being sick. Yesterday I stayed home I felt so awful and I didn't work out with my trainer Wednesday or Thursday. I don't feel great today either, but I'm at school, and I will work out if it kills me. I'll try to make up for lost time this weekend as well. Did I mention I hate being sick?

So while I was in bed yesterday I had the strangest dream involving a squeaking puppet bothering me and following me everywhere. I opened my eyes and realized I could still hear the puppet. I looked around for what was making the squeaking noise.

Then I realized it was me. Breathing. Even after I stopped the physical act of breathing air was still escaping my lungs and in rhythm with my pulse (I imagine, but who knows) was making little squeaking noises from both my mouth and nose. It was rather odd.

My kids are testing today. It's very quiet in here. I'm praying the squeaking thing doesn't happen again here. Can you imagine?

Invincible, Marigolds, Hamsters and Irwin

There are actually some singular points to this and it is for the most part connected. Forgive me, however if I take a while. To begin with, I'm sick.

Wet Miami weather (for all that I had a wonderful trip and look forward to the next one...) and 4 hours on a plane in less than four days have conspired to make my brain swim in snot and my throat drown in it. (Yes, I know what a pretty picture that is. Sorry.)

On Tuesday my students read the story "Marigolds," about a young African American girl growing up in rural Maryland during the depression. Great story. The crux of which is that innocence and compassion cannot co-exist, as innocence is the ignorance of others and compassion is being able to put yourself in their place. Beautiful story. I spent 20 minutes before the story telling the class about personal experiences I had had that this story made me think of. Then for fifteen minutes after they read the story (listened to it on CD while reading along actually) I made more comparisons in life, literature, movies and my life. Then I asked the class what they thought about the story.

Dumb looks ran rampant for almost 8 minutes. Then one brave child stood up and said, "it's about this girl." OK. Next child said, "It's about racism." Here I thought might be a spark. "How is that?" I ask. "Um... I don't know." Two strikes. OK. Another child says, "It's about growing up, changing the way we look at things." Yes, Good! Then "Growing up." They just said that. Next, "Growing up." Yeah, we got that. Middle child got lucky, the other two after tried to ride that train. Thirty students per period, three periods. Not an original thought in the bunch. This is why I became a teacher?

Today I played them Pat Benitar's "Invincible." It's about child abuse and has the line, "We cannot afford to be innocent." Innocent again means ignorant. It took the class over thirty minutes to begin to come close enough to what the song is about on it's own so I could hint to the point that they got it. Then they had to figure out how the story and song were connected. Another thirty minutes.

I've often joked that inside our heads are hamster wheels and that is what powers our brain. Difficult days in class just about "Kill the hamster." Let me tell you, there were dead hamsters all over my class today. The sad part is that many died in vain. I do not believe that the kids made a connection of any significance either day.

A week ago when I was explaining what I thought about something, one of the students whistled and said, "Ms. X, you think way too much!" The class laughed a bit. I did too. But in light of the dead hamsters I'm not so sure it's funny.

These kids want it all explained for them, so they don't have to try much less pay attention. I'd even consider telling them if I thought they listened. They can't even master, "Don't talk" and "Do your work" for more than three minutes at a time. This absolutely terrifies me in terms of out nation and planet's future. Kids don't know how to think and I'm not sure they even want to learn how.

One child, a gifted child at that, told me, "This is too hard." when I asked him to write down all the things he thought about when he read the story. He had written one line. "This story was good." That's all he turned in, as a matter of fact. "That's all I could think of."

What happened to Steve Irwin was a tragedy and a real shame. However, when you think of how he spent his time, all the things he had to have learned and known and how aware he had to be of his surroundings it is amazing to me that he was in such good health for as long as he was. (Not to mean he "had it coming" or any other such rubbish, just that accidents happen and you have to keep your brain working...) My students, even with training wouldn't last a month. They can't and won't concentrate, won't focus and don't pay attention. This is a dangerous thing. These are people we are about to let drive.

Oh, they tell me, "We like driving." So you mean to say you can focus on what you care about? Hope you get the dream job that involves nothing you don't enjoy when you grow up. Be a bummer to lose a job you like and can do because of that one small part you don't like, didn't pay attention to and therefore messed up.

Why should I be surprised though, when they where shirts to school that say, "My worst day anywhere is still better than my best day of school." and "Wake me up when class is over."

Pardon me, I have to go shovel the bodies of the fat, lazy, bloated, dead hamsters off the floor before the next group gets here.

Moons over Miami

This weekend I am going to Miami to help one of my dearest friends celebrate her birthday. There will be much laughing, talking, goofing off, cooking and eating. There may even be a little sleeping. There will be total relaxation.

Hope everyone has a terrific Labor Day weekend. See you next week.

Oh My!

In the interest of pursuing the most non-heavy topic I can think of, I find myself giggling about the joy and amusement that is Nana! Nana has had a big week and as usual it was a real corker to watch.

Nana walks with a cane. It is really an extension of her hand really. She points with it. Drags things with it. She herds the dogs with it and occasionally disciplines them with it (a slight tap on the butt when they rough house too much...) She pokes me with it to get my attention. She uses it to hold the door open for company. She also uses it as an excuse.

"No, I can't walk today, my hand hurts too much to use my cane and my hip hurts so I can't walk without it." When that is really the case she refuses to let the pain get her. When she doesn't want to do something (like go to the doctor's office, see people she doesn't like or go for a walk however...). So, because of the complaints and because I do know she is hurting I've been trying for five years to get her to go see someone about getting her hip replaced. She already had both her knees replaced and was much happier afterward, so...

But for the five years she has been dragging her feet, artificial knees, thighs and bad hip on the subject. Now that I have help with Nana, in the form of the very talented Lindsey, Nana has run out of excuses and had to go get evaluated. Now understand I wasn't there, but 1) I had faith in Lindsey, 2) I have seen this doctor before during the great horse/broken humorous caper and 3) I have a lot of faith in him.

When I got home yesterday Nana was doing the geriactric equivalent of Handspring's over the house and anyone's equivalent of "The Twist" (that is not an exaggeration, she really was dancing). Frankly I was a little frightened. Then she told me about her visit.

"That doctor walked right back into the room, pulled down my pants and panties and jammed a needle in my butt and now I can walk!" She went on to explain how when the doctor entered at first she didn't even know he was a doctor. He was so young and so friendly she assumed he was the orderly and so she was very confused when he came back with needle and pulled on her clothes. Then she felt so good she didn't care. Lindsey explained later that he was the doctor, though Lindsey also said he had introduced himself very politely. Nana also insists that he remembers me from four years ago. "He said to tell you hi." I asked if she mentioned why I had seen him (that stupidity he might remember...). "Oh no, I just said Sandy is my granddaughter and she said you were her doctor and that you were nice. Then he said,'tell her I said hi' so I know he remembers you." Nana and I do not have the same last name by the way...

The only cloud in all of this to Nana is that she does have to go to physical therapy. "I hate exercise! Do I have to wear tights?" She is thrilled that no surgery is needed, though an MRI has been scheduled just to be sure.

But you can't get much funnier or silly than an 82 year old doing the twist through the house in her underwear with two Shelties dancing and barking around her. You also can't get much more non-philosophic than that either. Enjoy!

The Scarlet Ibis

One of the stories my students read each semester is "The Scarlet Ibis." It's an interesting story about a boy and his brother, Doodle, who has some unnamed handicap that makes walking difficult. The older brother pushes his younger brother to be able to move, get along and eventually walk. In the process of teaching his brother to run, his brother finally succumbs to the inevitable that the doctor had been warning about and dies. It is an interesting story and tends to cause a lot of reaction from students.

As an adult I find the story interesting because I can see that it is not the older boy's fault his brother died. Granted the older brother was not always nice, pushed his brother too hard sometimes, and was occasionally cruel. Most siblings do those things. In this case there were factors beyond both boys' control that neither understood. The older brother may have made a mistake in his actions, but what occurred was in no way proportionate to that mistake. Life is like that a lot I think. Mistakes and consequences out of proportion, in both directions.

Last year (2005) at summer camp I had a run in with another staffer. Up to that point we had been rather close. I thought of him as one of "my boys." We were rough housing (not uncommon) and I broke the locking mechanism on a strap that he used to keep his pocket knife attached to his belt. The locking mechanism wasn't the only thing that snapped. Only now, over a year later is there anything resembling a comfortable friendship between the two of us again. I've never understood why. He's never told me and I don't think I can ask. The reaction was not proportionate to what occurred. I suffered a lot of guilt over the whole mess, and there were a lot of uncomfortable incidents at camp during the off season because of it.

Five years ago a good friend that I trusted compiled a list of 50 things she hated about me and I came across it one day when I was doing some housekeeping. This happened two days after she announced that, while she had volunteered and we had already made plans accordingly because of it, she was not moving to Georgia with me. This ended up costing me $1000 in moving costs because I had originally planned on her being with me during the move. When I saw the list I was beyond furious, beyond hurt and beyond betrayed. Yet I never told her, never yelled at her (which with my temper is saying something) and just let it go. We even stayed in touch. She continued to act like she thought of me as a good, close friend. Several years later I let her come visit me and she even came to camp. I introduced her to the man she later married (he was a good new friend of mine that I met just after moving here) and let her live with Nana and I for the 13 months before their wedding. I sang in the wedding. Now she works for me helping to care for Nana (She lost her last job to budget cuts right after she got married.) My original reaction to the situation five years ago was not anywhere near proportion to what she had done. People who know most of the story have commented on it to this day. Because of the fact that I didn't loose my temper back then, I have the help I desperately need with Nana now (and she's gown up a lot since that whole mess, otherwise she wouldn't be caring for Nana). By the same token she once asked me why we aren't the same kind of close friends that we were all those years ago when we were roommates the first time. I've never had the heart to explain it to her. Mostly I just stammered something about people changing over time and so friendships do. The few times we have argued since she moved here I tend to get angrier than the situation calls for though... Makes you think...

This past summer I put a good friend in a really awkward situation, though he says I didn't. Then I made a bad judgment call because I was really upset about that situation and let some other friends make some bad decisions that I should have/could have/ would have normally stopped. They also seem to feel it was not that big a deal. In terms of repercussions none of it was, in that nothing happened in the long term. I'm still good friends with the one and the others and everyone is healthy, happy and whole... So, no big right? Again, I'm not sure that the mistakes and the repercussions were in proportion.

The students and I talked today about decisions we make as young people and the repercussions that occur. A fifteen year old has sex and gets pregnant. She is now a parent which is a major repercussion for a common mistake of youth, nothing happened to her sister when she did the same thing. Yet another fifteen year old makes big mistake and gets drunk, but nothing happens, no one gets hurt and they go on with their lives mostly unaffected. Two people try Cocaine; one dies and the other just gets a buzz and is fine the next day. People drive all the time way over tired or over emotional, and sometimes they cause massive accidents and drunk people manage to get home with out killing anyone. My students had lots of examples personal and general about how the repercussions in life are rarely equal to the mistakes.

To a certain degree I guess some of this is what I was talking about yesterday when I talked about assumptions. We tend to assume that if we made the mistake before and nothing happened, we can make it again. We tend to assume that if nothing happens when we make a mistake that we got away with it, no harm no foul and that there is no damage. It is more than the issue of assumptions, however. Sometimes we make a minor mistake (though a mistake none the less) and the damage is massive. We never make that mistake again, hopefully, but we suffer for something that should not have been such a big deal. Sometimes we make a major mistake and nothing happens, but we continue to suffer because we know how close to ruin we came.

The Scarlet Ibis is a great story for that reason. I learn so much about my students each time we read it. I think they learn a lot too about themselves and the reality of life, mistakes, consequences and responsibility. Some times when I teach it, it is just a good class lesson, some days, like today, it is rather cathartic actually.

It was a nice surprise.

This is why I teach English. Somehow I don't think this is an experience I could have in a math class.

If you are interested the story is "The Scarlet Ibis" by James Hurst, I believe you can find it online. Let me know what you think.

That's several philosophic waxings in several days. Tomorrow (unless there is a really good reason otherwise) I plan to write something hysterical about nothing important.

What's it's made of U and ME

Today I spent the morning teaching my students about reasoning and assumptions. When you work logic problems first you have to ditch all assumptions in order to approach the project with an open mind. This lead to lots of discussions and many interesting ideas. Let me give you an example of a problem.

Jack and Jill lie dead on the floor surrounded by glass and water next to an open window. How did they die?

The students can ask yes or no questions to find the answer.

The answer is that Jack and Jill are goldfish and they died when the wind knocked their bowl over. We assume Jack and Jill are people. That is the problem.

Other problems deal with assumptions involving the word Cabin, gender, and people's stature. It is a neat little exercise. (We are studying a Sherlock Holmes mystery... This is the tie in.)

The point is the assumptions we make.

We assumed Jon Bennet's parents did it because they didn't answer questions fast enough and then they were investigated. We now assumed that Kerr did it because he confessed. We assume things all the time about people because of their race, gender, religion and other characteristics/preferences. We assume that beautiful people are more interesting, smarter and they all have dates on Saturday night. We assume that "ugly" people don't. We assume that because an actor plays a character we like that they themselves are people we would like, people we know or people we should be concerned with (personal life, political beliefs, religious beliefs, you name it). Further, we seem to assume we have the right to know all this. We assume that fat people eat too much and are lazy. We assume that tall people played basketball. We assume that financial success means happiness. We assume that a simple apology makes the problem go away.

My students assume that I won't really fail them and that the school won't really hold them back a year. They assume that I can't fail a whole class if they all don't turn in their homework. They assume that when I tell them there are consequences for their actions that I don't really mean it. They assume that when I ask the class to stop talking that I am not actually talking to them.

My life is full of assumptions. I assumed that simply calling my mother on her bad behavior and bad choices would make her stop and that if I loved her long enough and hard enough she would change. I assumed that if I just kept smiling, kept my head down and finished college and got a career that a husband and family would just drop right into my life. I assumed that I could never be so broken or hurt as to make the kind of bad judgment calls I made that awful Saturday night in July and that I could control the outcome. (Isn't it funny how arrogance and pride can look a lot like assumptions?) Further I assumed that just because I was sorry (and forgiven) that I would stop being bothered by it. I assumed that just because I ate less, and exercised more that this weight would just peel off easily in no time because I want it to.

Nothing is ever as simple as we assume. There is a reason that it's a bad idea.

Define this...

It's Monday, Robin is back (!), and I can now blog at work again. Life is good.

Lots of people have had something to say about this whole Pluto mess, and the consensus I see is that demoting Pluto was stupid. They should have at least grandfathered the poor guy into the system and then moved on from there. Considering my earlier post, I guess I agree, but I keep coming back to this definition thing.

The thing is, I like definitions. Rules are comforting. Guidelines give structure, security, consistency and order to chaos. The flip side of that is that I also like definitions and rules because then I can break them, work around them, think out side their box and go beyond them. Yes, I know that's messed up. Before you consider me criminally insane (which you might anyway) let me give you some examples to explain.

When I was a first year teacher I became fascinated by a particular writing style, FanFiction. I became very interested in how I could get kids writing and thought this might be a good vehicle. So I played with lessons on it. Then I got another idea because of an educational program I had seen done by an actor (who shall remain nameless in this story because of his recent press) to get kids excited about Shakespeare, specifically Hamlet. I started making some phone calls and eventually ended up in talks with producers at Paramount studios to do an educational video series based on TV series on the WB. After two years of work the project was canked, but... Once we got going people often expressed surprise that I had gotten as far as I did and the methods which I had employed to get where I was. (Nothing illegal or immoral, just direct phone calls and letters, etc). "You shouldn't have been able to do that!" They would say. My answer was often, "Then I'm glad I didn't know that, but everyone else did. Cuts down on competition."

Further when I come up with a solution outside the box, I look much smarter that I really am and often smarter than those around me. This is a nice perception to perpetuate... Seeing as most of my friends will tell you usually if I am given too much time to myself to think I most often do really stupid things or really stupid and funny things. College and Summer Camp shinaningans all come to mind.

Definitions are also a good thing because they keep me out of trouble. Defined chain of command is a wonderful thing. And based on my earlier statements they also give you a wonderful method to get the better of an annoying boss. BCC on e-mail is wonderful for that and works best with clear chain of commands in place.

So, Pluto, you didn't know you were not a planet, so you pressed on anyway. I think you should get credit for that.

You have been demoted!

Poor Pluto. What an identity crisis. Planet, Dwarf, Planet, Dwarf, Planet, Sister, Daughter, Sister, Daughter! I can hear science teachers in the middle of astronomy units all over America planning to take their textbooks home this weekend and try and fix this mess!

Further, the emotional damage to anyone's psyche, much less a planet's (no wait, dwarf!) of being declassified has to be horrendous. It's got me thinking about what other things should we have specific definitions for and demote objects out of...

Journalists: Must have no bias, no malice and a conscience.
This demotes 85% to "annoying people with microphones/cameras?"

Students: Must be prepared for class, capable of doing basic skills at each level, respectful of teacher's authority.
This demotes 90% to oversized babies in a daycare system.

Dogs: Must have fur, tail, sweet disposition, leash and obedience
This demotes 25% to rats with funny haircuts.

Politicians: Must have good intentions, an awareness of what those they represent want, good sense, a sense of humor and integrity
This demotes 95% to noisy, self-centered, corrupt things in expensive clothes.

American Citizens: Must have Civic Responsibility, Civic Pride, Civic Awareness, Class and a desire to follow the rules of the country that provides you with rights so that others can enjoy them too.
This demotes 50% to house guests who have overstayed their welcome.

Here is the problem with the whole demotion concept (though I appreciate the concept of clear cut definitions and science), Pluto is still there. It still has a name. Most of us think of it as a planet. None of us really ever want to go there (Mars, yes, I hear there are men there, Jupiter, yes, I hear the view of the night sky is amazing, but Pluto, no...) So for the rest of the world, Pluto will still be the ninth "planet," Geraldo Rivera is still a "journalist" and the children in my room are still "students."

This was not intended as a political, moral or ethical post. I'm not actually after anyone today, I just got to thinking about demotions on my way home from school. I thought of a lot of other really good ones, like the definition of man, woman, parent, human, dinner, literature, art, love, intelligence, food, diet, ADD, and a bunch of other stuff. Very few things came out favorably. While I could have gone on and listed a bunch, eventually I would have become offensive even to myself, so I just didn't.

Lastly, I guess I've never liked the idea of using size to classify anything's value...

Where are they now?

Maybe I'm the only one that does this, but sometimes when I get nostalgic I start googling people I've known through my life to see if I can find out how they are. It is kind of a fun game, actually.

First off, no matter how unique you think someone's name is, trust me, there is more than one. So first you have to figure out which one is the one you know. Then you have to track back through information, read between lines, etc to construct a "history" of sorts.

Having moved a dozen times or so by the time I finished high school, I've met a lot of people in my life. Maybe more than most my age. Sometimes I even get in touch with people when I find them and often they talk back. Something about being a very tall, very outspoken, very outgoing person makes me stick out in people's memories. I've been in airports and been remembered and I "come across" people, truly by accident, all the time too. It is such a small world that way.

The thing that surprises me most is how many of us don't end up where we thought we would be, but others are often less surprised by the outcome of our lives than we are. I was supposed to be a nurse in the navy, instead I'm an English teacher and I work with the boy scouts. This doesn't seem to suprise many people and not nearly as much as it surprises me in comparison to where I thought my life would be. When I "run across" people often I see that their lives do not follow the plans they had as children, but their lives make a lot of sense to me. It fits what I thought of them, etc.

The point was, I was wondering today and looking at people's lives and was happy to see how many people are in places where it seems they should be happy. Established in careers, getting married, having babies, winning awards (those are the best to find, they often include pictures and so I can satisfy the "Who got fat, skinny, ugly, pretty, etc?" curiosity.) Occasionally I do come across an obituary. That's sad. And those I'm often very sure I have the right person because of birth and geographical information. (Death is not in itself a bad thing, but when you figure my contemporaries are all in their 20's and 30's that is a life cut short no matter how you look at it...)

Once long ago I told a friend of mine that greatness happens in pockets. You know how writers, poets, actors, politicians all seem to have known each other before they became famous and then while developing in their own right are connected...? Sometimes I think I am looking for greatness in hopes I am in the pocket. Then you also have to get into definitions of greatness.

All those of you I have know, wherever you are, whatever you are doing, I bid you peace, and remember you fondly. God Bless!

Happy Dance!

No one likes being the bad guy, but I have to say that trumping a class full of rude children felt good today. I got the combination in a flash of inspiration and today some real work got done.

For every second of time they wasted in my class today, third period, I made them pay me back in being late for lunch. Today we sat a whole minute in total silence (Which seems like a long time under those circumstances) before they left for lunch. This put them firmly at the end of the lunch lines. Further if they are late to lunch they don't get to use the pillows or couches during reading time after lunch.

I can't wait to see what tomorrow brings. My gut says that the war isn't over, but for now I won a crucial battle. Tonight I will enjoy the success.

The fact that this is my gifted class, the best and brightest is probably what makes me craziest. These kids know better and further they are the kids who will be our leaders someday. What does it mean if they have no self discipline and no respect for authority. The other thing is they are really great kids, bright and funny and outgoing, but when they are rude, disrespectful and ignore directions all that potential disappears behind a shield of yuck!

It astounds me that no one has effectively taken them in hand. This is not testing limits in my opinion. No one has enforced order with these kids before. They seem genuinely puzzled and confused by my frustration with their behavior.

But tonight I am content.

Teacher Frustration

It is really starting to be apparent to me that I am a better teacher with my team teacher. Having her out on maternity leave is starting to make me feel like someone cut off my right arm. This is funny to me because in the past I always thought team teaching was a stupid waste of resources. This was even when I was the team teacher, rather than the lead teacher.

I guess it just goes to show the difference a good match can make.

The kids in my classes this year simply do not understand the concept of following directions. The worst class of all is the gifted class. They are told to read silently, they literally talk the minute I say begin. When I ask them to stop, they do for two minutes, then they are back at it. I separate people, I discipline, nothing is working. I feel like I am turning into an ogre. I mean I can feel my skin turning green and my ears becoming funnels just thinking about it. I can't imagine what I look like in class. I wouldn't be surprised if a donkey, (who sounds like Eddie Murphy!) discussing onions and parfaits and layers, joined me in the near future!

Battle of wills is never a good thing in class. And to be fail this is not a willful thing on their part, I think, or I keep telling myself. Mostly no one has really made them stick to this before. I'm going to have to come up with something and quickly if I want this to be a good year all around for all of us.

Wouldn't t be nice if it was as simple as it is in the inspirational movies about teachers. Or even the books. While those movies and books are encouraging I also find them depressing. There is so much that is left out, the trial and error, the sleepless nights and no cool theme music to get your blood pumping. Those books and movies also make it sound like (or make me feel like anyway) that the rest of us teachers must be inadequate slugs who accomplish nothing because no one is making a movie about how I finally got little Tommy to do his homework once a week rather than once a month. Then there is also the fact that high school kids, 9th graders in general are just so different than any other year. Then again all grade levels will tell you that their year is unique. We are all right I imagine.

When I first started teaching I preferred 12th graders. "I can reason with them," I said. "9th grade is too close to middle school." But as a teacher I am more challenged (and therefore sometimes more rewarded) by 9th grade. I just don't have as much hair (what with all the pulling it out.)

Robin will be back on Monday. This has to get better.

Excuse Me?

Warning! Camp Flashback!

Today I got an e-mail from the people who run the people who run camp (no that was not a typo). Seems a mother e-mailed them complaining that I didn't take her son's illness seriously enough, didn't contact her, threatened her child, called him a baby and (drum roll please) ruined their vacation. The e-mail was clearly worded to indicate that she thought I ought to be fired. Personally I would love to post the piece of trash and explain what a bovine, spoiled brat she and her child are in excruciating detail, but my rule is I never post other people's e-mails on my blog. So instead, let me tell you what it said!

She explained that her child came to me on the last Thursday of the last week of June (she waited over a month to complain about something she feels I should be fired for????) and that he told me he had strep, that his sister had just had strep and having had it before he knew it was strep. Apparently I told him he was just dehydrated, called him a homesick baby and threatened to drill needles into his arm full of IV fluids if he came back to see me, because he was simply dehydrated. This meant that he being terrified of me, didn't come back and when his parents came to get him Friday afternoon (early, I might add) he was now very sick, and they had to scramble for Urgent Care, find an all night pharmacy (much stress and misery on their part is explained and documented here) and then said boy was horribly sick during the first two days of vacation and ruined it for everyone. This is all the "camp nurse's fault." Besides, strep is not something you play around with (No? I play pong with it daily!) and I should at least be reprimanded. I should have taken her child's whining and complaining seriously, because she knows he would never be homesick or snivelling, much less dehydrated!

Yes, the air is thin here up on my high horse.

I could scream.

Thankfully this letter was sent to the people who run the BSA council and they apologized on camp's behalf for any dissatisfaction and are going to go over the case so I can better serve people next summer. If it had been sent to me I would have told the woman to enroll her son in Liar's Anonymous and get herself some therapy and a reality check.

Any child who comes into my office complaining of Strep symptoms, who tells me about family with strep or who thinks they have strep is examined for strep (throat peak, gland check and fever check). Then I have them come back if there are no signs, but symptoms persist. I have been known to show hesitant drinkers my hypodermic needle, but I have never threatened anyone with an IV or told them not to come back (counterproductive for several reasons smart people can think of). Often an easy way to contract an illness is to be dehydrated, and having no recollection of this kid or this case, I imagine the kid reeked of ketosis which is how I know they are dehydrated. (Yes, I smell children to diagnose, it works!) I have never ever even called a camper a baby, cry baby or moron to their face and I never even use the terms to their scout leaders, though the scout leader often use the term for the child to me.

Then there is the timing. If it happened Thursday night, and they got there Friday afternoon, how could the outcome have been much different? Even if they came up Thursday night, still would have been an Urgent Care, midnight pharmacy run (and don't most Urgent Care's and Emergency rooms have some pharmacy ability for just this reason?) I figure either the scoutmaster said this stuff to the kid and the kid is blaming me, or the parents were mad at the kid for "ruining" their vacation and he therefore passed the buck or mom is an idiot and the apple didn't fall far from the tree! (How is that for Christian love and understanding!)

The thing about this is I hate people who lie, pass the buck and complain in such a way that they risk nothing and are just being mean and spiteful. This woman said she wanted to be constructive. As a teacher (And an English one at that) there was nothing in her letter the least bit helpful or constructive. It was just unnecessary. I hope it made her feel better.

In the grand scheme of things it doesn't matter anyway, the camp people essentially backed me, though smoothing over ruffled feathers, and it's August now, so who cares! But grrrrrr!

That still just frosts my flakes!