House of Zathras

…buys his teen daughter a brand-new Mercedes to drive to school? To park in a lot full of crazy teenagers who can’t drive worth a shit?

An idiot whose daughter drives the aforementioned Mercedes which my newly-licensed daughter hit in that high school parking lot.

*sigh*

Scene: Back door of Mrs. Who’s classroom, where a class is emerging. A strange scent hangs in the humidity-laden air…remnants of repeated attempts to eliminate the wasp population in the eaves of the building.

Student 1: (making a face) What’s that smell?

Student 2: That’s the cafeteria.

Student 1: Oh.

(more…)

It’s been a very busy week at school getting ready for the new year. While I work in the room, I usually have the tv on for background noise…I don’t work well in silence. (“But Moooomm! I really do my homework better in front of the tv”…yeah, that was me, and it WAS true!)

Somehow the cable service was messed up, and most channels were snowy and full of static. So I brought some DVDs from home to fill the noise void.

Earlier today a mom registered her child who was put into my class. The mom asked to speak with me about several concerns with her child. (She was there almost an HOUR!!!!) The mom started walking out, when she stopped to stare (I thought) at the spelling words on a chart. I started to explain the process of choosing the words, when all of a sudden she turned and said in an excited voice, “So you like Firefly!!!????” I realized then she wasn’t staring at the chart, but rather at the tv on the file cabinet next to the chart…the tv wasn’t on, but the Firefly DVDs were tucked behind the tv. I laughed and affirmed my affinity for the show, and she went on, saying that their cat is even named ‘River’ for Summer Glau’s character. So maybe the Mom will feel a connection and a little bit more relaxed about her kid starting school. Shiny!

Thank you ALL for your prayers and thoughts…it turns out Goob has mononucleosis…that’s right, folks, the KISSING disease, lol!

Actually, there’s not much lol in reality. He has to watch his physical activity for awhile (because his spleen is at increased risk of a rupture), which will affect his duty status. And he can’t kiss anyone, or share utensils or drinking containers or food, etc., for SIX MONTHS!!! IF he hadn’t been kissing (and other things!!!) he probably wouldn’t have gotten this disease. Maybe religious edicts seem restrictive…but for the most part they can keep you hale and hearty, both physically and mentally! Think about it, Goob!

Poor Goob…life keeps knocking him down. He needs to think about the path he’s choosing that keeps throwing up these warning signs…slow down and smell the roses…just don’t go kissing them.

Our Goob is being taken to the hospital in Korea as I write this…they originally thought he might have strep, but it’s not. There’s some kind of lump and bleeding in his throat. Abscess??? Who knows…just please send out good vibes.

Talk about feeling helpless…we can’t just drive there to be with him. Dammit.

Crazy…that one word sums up this past week. Crazy fun and crazy scary all at the same time.

And I can’t talk about it yet because of contractual obligations (see four posts back.)

But there’s been some Middle-Aged Mama Squealing going on on top of PN’s. Aii-yi-yi.

….probably not.

But you never know. My daughter just called from New Orleans where she is auditioning for American Idol. And she and her friend were filmed!!! They were right behind Ryan Seacrest!!! And it probably means they’ll be in the opening sequence for New Orleans!!!! Teenage Girl Squeeeeeeeeaaaaaallllll! And her hair was probably just horrible because they’d been standing out in the hot, hot sun!!!!!! But they were filmed right behind Ryan Seacrest!!!!!!! Teenage Girl Squeeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaallllllll!!!!! But she wouldn’t be able to stand seeing herself on tv!!!!!!! Teenage Girl Squeeeeeeeaaaaaaallllll!!!!!!

I have a big smile on my face right now for her…sounds like they’re having a great time, no matter the outcome.

And it’s breaking my heart, but there’s nothing I can do about it.

Remember how I mentioned she wanted to audition for American Idol in New Orleans? After I told her I would take her, I started looking at my calendar and at the demands on my time with my obligations and the kids’ activities. Princess No has gotten involved in a community activity that would occupy a lot of time…I told her she would have to make a choice between that and AI. I couldn’t get her to the activity almost daily for several weeks and spend days away from home for AI. The school year is getting ready to start and I have workshops and preparations to perform that are time consuming, on top of everything else a family needs. PN wasn’t happy, but she accepted having to make a choice and stayed with her long-term activity.

Then a family friend stepped forward who is taking her daughter to AI, and offered to act as guardian for PN. It seemed a workable solution…I wouldn’t have to spend extra days away from home, and PN would still get her chance. They would be staying at a friend’s condo in Mississippi, and hop over to NO for the auditions. There’s registration on Saturday, and the actual auditions on Monday.

All this is when Tropical Storm Bonnie will be hitting. Projected to hit the Mississippi/Louisiana area. That whole area is so full of bayous and rivers and creeks and swamps…flooding is a given. And these tropical storms are in many ways worse that a category 1 hurricane. Tropical storms are generally slower moving and dump way more rain…hurricanes at least move through more quickly.

I have a bad feeling. A feeling deep in my gut that I can’t alleviate. At this time, the family friend is still going to AI. But she is unfamiliar with the area and could face flooded streets and who knows what else. I can’t let my daughter go. I would have cancelled if I had still been planning on taking her myself.

I cried telling my daughter she couldn’t go. I know she’s disappointed and mad, but it’s a risk that is not worth taking. I love her, so therefore I can’t let her go to AI.

Maybe she’ll forgive me by the time she’s through college…

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UPDATE
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She went. When I first made the decision she couldn’t go, I had just gotten in from a three- and a-half hour drive from New Orleans. At 3:00 AM. And came in, tired as shit, and looked up the storm and really freaked out.

But she went with her friends. They left in the early hours of Saturday morning and got registered with no waiting at all. That gave them this weekend to rest up. Monday is the actual audition day…that could be a long day.

This is wearing me out, and I didn’t even go…

I’ve been feeling very maudlin lately. I hate reading any kind of news because it’s just so damn depressing. I’m feeling overwhelmed with ‘normal’ life, too, with bills and kids and what-all.

So I’m trying something that might help at least for a little while. I’m trying to alleviate my blues with some blueberries. I just went out and picked some off our one bush. It had rained last night so the berries were freshly-washed…little drops of water cupped around the plump bottom of each berry. Hey…I said they were ‘fresh’!

And now I’m going to make some blueberry-pecan waffles and hope the scrumptiousness eases the blues for awhile.

And as for ‘scrumptious’, I just LOVE this video…the girl is only 27 months old:

‘Cause I started out with a Monday, even though it’s Tuesday.

You see, I was just sitting here minding my own business, when I heard this terrible rumbling sound outside. I ran to the front window, peeked through the blinds, and saw…the garbage truck. I then ran to the side window, peeked down through the blinds, and sure enough, in its regular spot, was the garbage can. Which should have been at the street. SOMEBODY who promised to take out the garbage last night…didn’t. And since that somebody was at the church at the moment, I couldn’t yell at him to get the garbage to the street.

I had time…we live on a dead-end street, so the garbage truck is backed down the road and begins pick-up there. So I rushed out, in the pouring rain, barefoot, to grab the can to roll it to the street. And oh, did I mention I was barefoot? And that the end of the drive is a rough mix of gravel and dirt? So yeah…I was having fun…NOT! Then I dashed back up the drive to grab a couple of other items that had been cleaned out from the shed. The garbage truck was there by then, and since I was drenched already, I waited to be able to take the emptied can back. The garbage guy gave me a weird look as he wheeled the can back to me. I guess too many people don’t stand in the rain waiting for a stupid garbage can.

Monday shouldn’t be allowed to take a holiday.

…for pretty shoes and sandals to be made in wide widths? Well, IS IT?

I can’t tell you how many shoe stores I went to today at the outlet mall. I was even prepared to pay big bucks if necessary…but nobody is carrying wide shoes!

It’s very frustrating. I’m running out of shoes to wear…I might resort to fuzzy slippers with everything because I can’t find shoes that fit me. Well, I COULD wear athletic shoes with all my school and church dresses…NOT! My stocky German peasant ancestry is showing in my feet…maybe I ought to claim racism and bias or some-such and have the shoe companies give me reparations in dozens of pretty new shoes!

They don’t have to be fancy…even just a simple sandal…

And if that weren’t depressing enough, the bathroom at the outlet mall had a mirror on the opposite wall of the toilet. (Yes, it was the handicapped stall. I hate how teeny-tiny most regular stalls are…who wants to stand against the damn public toilet just to get the door opened…it’s gross!!! And who the hell’s idea was it to put the toilet paper dispenser so close to the floor…are they expecting midgets in these stalls or what???!!!) But while as I was sitting there taking care of business, I looked up and saw in the mirror…Jabba the Hut’s little sister. I don’t expect to look like a model at my age…but jeez…it was depressing.

It’s been a rough day today. Kid issues, life issues, work issues…I met BR for lunch because I so desperately had to get away from things. I had a Japanese beer while he ate…usually alcohol hits me quickly, but I was so upset I didn’t feel any effect at all. So I went shopping instead. I did find two outfits, but no shoes, as mentioned above.

*sigh*

And on top of it all, Goob and Little Miss may be finding out how rushing into things and hoping love (and sex) makes everything better are finding out the realities of international law. It seems in her precipitate return to Korea, they forgot to check the realities of visas and international laws. She can stay 90 days before she has to leave the country (I think…that’s what I found just in a five-minute search of the internet). If she wanted to stay longer, it sounds like she should have applied for the appropriate visa BEFORE she re-entered Korea. Of course, they’re not telling us much of anything (although I can tell by sitemeter that they’re stopping by here…I guess looking for reasons to be mad at us. *sigh*) I hate that they’re having to go through all that stress, but they just *had* to be together. *shakes head*

So here I sit, sipping my diet drink, getting depressed about life, the universe and everything…

If only I had some pretty new sandals…I would feel better…

My daughter has asked for a very special birthday present.

She wants to audition for American Idol. So later on in July, she and I will schlep over to New Orleans. And she will sing her heart out. If we can even make it through the registration process.

*sigh*

My mother would never have done this for me. Of course, my mother doesn’t like driving more than a mile from home or making left-hand turns, let alone drive to another town three hours away. Hell would be for my mother and me to have to drive somewhere together. Or not even together. The other day I was at her house and offered to drive her car around back after unloading groceries. (She NEVER lets anyone drive her car. NEVER!) Amazingly, she agreed. I backed it under the awning so the next time she left she wouldn’t have to back up (she also hates backing up). I maneuvered it in, being sure that all the doors could open and not hit a support pole. Then I locked it and took the keys into her.

She called me later…it seems she never locks the car and went to get something out of it after I left. Then she had to go back into the house to get the keys!! She was bitching at me about locking her car! No good deed goes unpunished.

Makes me wonder about this trip to New Orleans. My husband swears that my daughter and I are taking on the relationship roles (including the yelling) that my mother and I have had for years. Help me. Please.

For all you moms out there…remember when your kids were toddlers and couldn’t bear to have you out of their sights? You go to the bathroom, and there they are, crying outside the door as if the world is going to end. When they got a little older, it got a little better. Instead of crying outside the door, they would stick things under it…like toy swords or fly swatters.

And if you went into the bedroom for a few minutes to chat on the phone…that’s when they bang on the door demanding your attention RIGHT NOW! Because they couldn’t find the milk. What do you mean it’s in the refrigerator???? Oh. But then where is my baseball glove?

Do they ever really grow out of it?

No.

Earlier this morning it was quiet and I decided to get on the treadmill. It’s in the dining room, next to the kids’ computer stand. I put my laptop on top of the stand and watch a DVD while I walk my 30 minutes. Kids were off busy doing their own thing, so this was some ‘me’ time.

For about four minutes.

First Buck wandered in and got on the computer. Then Eraserhead came along about five minutes after that and set up his laptop on the dining room table.

And then they both complained because I had ‘Chorus Line’ on so loudly.

Sheesh. I’d almost rather have the fly swatter coming in under the door…

Personally, I don’t see anything wrong with making high school students clean toilets as part of detention. It would be a strong deterrent for whatever behavior landed them there in the first place. If nothing else, it would give them ‘life skills’…because if they keep up their shenanigans, then cleaning toilets is what they might have to do for a living.

Kudos to that principal!

Especially for Buck.

He is in the middle of cleaning his room (no electronical anything until it’s done!). Or should I say, excavating!!! But we’re working on some organizational methods and ways for him to find space for his belongings.

Currently he has a dirty clothes hamper that is divided into three parts: one section for pants, one for shirts, and one for anything else. He asked for a bigger one.

Me: Why?

Buck: This one is too small. I can’t fit much stuff into it.

Me: You know that once a section is filled, that’s the size of a load and you should go wash whatever is in that section, right?

Buck: *blink, blink*

Me: You can’t keep stuffing it full. It’s now why you have five garbage bags of dirty laundry. Tell you what, I’ll take you to a laundromat and you can get them all done at once.

Buck: NO! I’ll do it HERE!!!! (footnote: Buck doesn’t like unfamiliar places…he gets slightly agoraphobic.)

Me: Okay…but it will probably take you two or three days to get this all done and put up properly. And remember, no electronics till it’s all done!

Buck: Fine! We’ll go to a laundromat!

Me: And in the future, you have to do your laundry when each section gets full in the hamper.

Buck: *grumble*

Heh. Wait till he joins the Marines.

Speaking of which, the CO of his Young Marines unit is taking 7 or 8 boys for a week at Parris Island! I always knew Marines were the bravest of the brave, but driving that many sweaty, antzy, know-it-all teen boys on a 8+ hour trip??? That deserves some kind of medal!

School’s Out for Summer – interpreted by Mrs. Who

Well we got no choice
(Neither do we teachers. The powers that be have taken away virtually all the teacher input.)
All the girls and boys
(Just shut up and sit down…we’re unhappy about this as you are!)
Makin’ all that noise
(Yeah…really proud of the sound of your own self, hunh?)
‘Cause they found new toys
(What…I thought you liked working on the Smartboard.)
Well we can’t salute ya
(That kind of ‘salute’ will get you a referral, anyway.)
Can’t find a flag
(Yes you can in MY room!)
If that don’t suit ya
(Doesn’t matter…my room, my rules!)
That’s a drag
(You try teaching someone like you and see what’s really a drag!)

School’s out for summer
(Thank God!)
School’s out forever
(Heh, you and I both wish)
School’s been blown to pieces
(Nope…and that threat will get you arrested, too!)

No more pencils
(What do you care…I had to buy all your pencils for you anyway because your parents either wouldn’t or couldn’t. You’re welcome.)
No more books
(Like you read them anyway? Remember your test scores?)
No more teacher’s dirty looks
(Again…you try teaching someone like you and not give dirty looks.)

Well we got no class
(You can say that again!)
And we got no principles
(Yeah…you run whining to mommy every time you think something’s not fair…all that ‘spare the rod’ business is a perfect example in you.)
And we got no innocence
(Yeah, just look what modern technology has done to you…it’s a damn shame.  There was a time when ‘Dick and Jane’ was the way you learned to read…not an introduction to prono.)
We can’t even think of a word that rhymes
(You could if you paid attention in school!!!!)

Out for summer
(OMG – YES!)
Out till fall
(Not actually…hate to be the bearer of bad news, but you actually come back in late summer.)
We might not go back at all
(I should be so lucky.)

School’s out forever
(Yeah, yeah…wish for that in one hand, crap in the other, and see what gets filled up first.)
School’s out for summer
(So what…can’t go to the beach because of the frikken’ tar balls and oil disaster.)
School’s out with fever
(WTH? How can a school have a fever? Didn’t you pay attention during the Living/Nonliving chapter in Science?)
School’s out completely
(You think you left quickly on your last day of school? You should see it when the teachers get to leave on their last day. Don’t stand in their way and hope none of them are wearing high-heels…those leave nasty marks on the ones too slow to get out of the way.)

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It was my last day of school today…I’m sure you couldn’t have guessed!!

Saturday was rather eventful.

It started at the airport. And I have such fun at airports. (To recap if you wish, read here, here, and here.) Yesterday became one of those ‘eventful’ airport trips.

It’s been some time since I’ve been allowed back to the gate with the kids. I don’t even ask anymore. Just check the kids in, and sit outside the security entrance until the flight boards and then go home.

Yesterday, while we were checking in Princess No’s luggage (a first…ALL of it under the weight limit!!!), she urged me to see if I could go back with her. And wonder of wonders, they said no problem. It must have been a really boring day because two of the ticket agents literally jumped out from behind the counter to get my license. They quickly printed out a security pass for me, and Princess No and I got in line.

I made it through the metal detector. My shoes, cell phone, and magnetic glasses made it through the x-ray machine. My purse…didn’t.

They ran it through twice. And then I had to traipse over to the corner for them to search my purse. Thank goodness I had cleaned out my purse the day before! Even so, my purse is its own Tardis/portal to another universe/mini-black hole. You can find everything and nothing in it. The reason I had to clean it out was because I couldn’t find my keys in it, even after digging in it for a full five minutes.

So, the TSA agent starts pulling stuff out of my purse. And pulling stuff out of my purse. And pulling stuff out of my purse. Then she finds my tiny bottle of hand sanitizer. She snarls, “Don’t you know this has to go in a plastic baggie?” Princess No is rolling her eyes.

Then the agent pulls out a small tube of face lotion. “Don’t you know this is supposed to go in a plastic baggie?” This time, the snarl results in spray landing on my face. Princess No is starting to become very embarrassed. “Mom, you KNOW all liquids have to go in a baggie!!!”

I tell her I wasn’t planning to go through security. And plus, I didn’t know that lotion was a liquid! Princess No rolls her eyes again as the security agent pulls out my tube of foundation (which I rarely wear and forgot was in there). The agent snootily hands me a plastic baggie and tells me to start putting the assorted tubes/bottle into it. As I start to comply, she dives back into my purse. And finds the small velvet sheath that holds my pocketknife. Oh, hell.

She pulls it out, pinching it between her thumb and forefinger (it’s a really small pocketknife. She delicately separates the velcroed flap of the sheath and then pushes the knife up and out from the bottom (it looked like she was performing a magic trick!!).

Oh crap, oh crap, oh crap. That little knife has caused me so much trouble, but I don’t want to lose it. I forget it’s there until I need it. Princess No has backed away, saying, “I’m going to the gate by myself. I’ll call you when I land.”

I start asking if I could take it out to my car and come back in. Princess No is almost apoplectic, saying I should just go. Just go.

So I hug her and am escorted out by security. The agent holds my purse and knife and I walk the green (carpeted) mile to the land of freedom for pocketknives…otherwise known as the waiting area. She hands me my purse. I have to ask for my pocketknife, which she begrudgingly releases to me. (It really is a sweet little blade!)

I call Princess No to see if she is getting over her huff yet. She informs me she is in the middle of texting a friend. Mom has been written off!

Her highness takes off and I head to my school to get some work done. I have to wait for Buck to finish a Young Marine activity and have two or three hours to kill anyway. The caretaker lets me into my building and I get to work. I accomplished quite a bit, so I should be able to leave somewhat early on the teacher final work day on Tuesday.

A terrible electric storm rolls in as I’m starting to wrap up things. There is a humongous KA-POW…and the fire alarm goes off. A shrill, unending eardrum-piercing electronic wailing. And I don’t dare go out into the weather with the lightning.

So I sit. And wait. And wait. The alarm doesn’t go off. My head is starting to pound. I grab a pair of foam ear plugs and put them in. (They’re not for me to block out the students, however a good idea that may be. I actually bought them for a student who said that ‘noise’ bothered her. The noise only bothered her during test time…when the loudest sound is pencil scratching on paper! But that’s another story for another time).

The ear plugs help and I do a few more chores. The storm isn’t letting up much, and it’s really past time for me to leave to get Buck. I grab one of the plastic white tablecloths I use to cover bookshelves. No way I’m holding up a metal umbrella in the lightning storm.

I run through the rain into the parking lot…which is almost knee-deep in water. Great…I’m going to be electrocuted in the school parking lot. BUT…a big fire truck is there with hunky firemen! If I get struck by lightning whilst running splashing to my car, at least I’d get first aid immediately.

The fire department was waiting for someone with keys to show up and deactivate the alarm. Their captain was on the caretaker’s porch, watching the crazy Mrs. Who treading water. The firemen on the truck were watching the crazy Mrs. Who, looking like a little white-riding hood.

The crazy Mrs. Who finally made it to her car, only wet from the knees down (the tablecloth worked rather well!). Then she picked up Buck, went home, and had some monk-made bourbon butter-walnut fudge.

I deserved it after my day.

So after I wrote the previous post, I went to the Church to do some praying. I lit a candle in front of St. Joseph, asking for his intervention. St. Joseph put his faith in God in marrying a pregnant Mary and helping to rear his stepchild. I prayed that I might find through his example the acceptance of Goob’s situation, and be able to give the support and guidance a young couple would need.

I left, feeling humbled and a little more at peace. Got in my car, turned it on, and a song came on the radio (shit you not!):

(more…)

22

Created by OnePlusYou – Free Online Dating

Some of you have been following the saga of the Goobster and his on-again, off-again fiancee…have to think about a blog-name for her.

She’s over in Korea right now…they’ve already had one or two knock-down, drag-out fights. She didn’t like what I said (after dragging me into it), and ‘defriended’ me on Facebook.

Then on Goob’s FB there’s a picture of an engagement ring.

And silence now. We’re wondering if they are in the middle of trying to get married over there.

In love with love. May God bless them both.

Two students came to me today, drawing my attention to a fellow student who was drenched in tears.

This particular little girl is a waif of a child…a ragamuffin in many ways. Her family doesn’t have much money. We have sent home clothes and shoes, but rarely does she seem to wear the same thing twice…clean, anyway. The girl herself is always clean, but somehow, she is always wearing old hand-me-downs. I keep a supply of hair accessories and a brush at school. Again, her hair is always clean, but not brushed neatly or ever styled.

And she was in tears today. Because she had just found her pet…dead.

Her pet slug. Yep, you read that right. She had brought her ‘pet’ to school in a jar, and we put it in a small bug container. And somehow, during the day, the damn thing died. Shriveled up and stuck to the side of the container.

And this girl is in tears. She even asked to take the tissue box with her on the bus because she was crying so hard. I told her she could take three individual tissues and she could be my partner on the way to the buses.

The poor little girl doesn’t have much…a slug for a pet…dammit.

The kids will be gone this weekend. One camping, the other staying with some friends.

Two nights. Without children around.

Woot!

We have ‘Fun Friday’ in my classroom. Students who have done their work and met their reading goals get about 45 minutes of free play at the end of the day. Legos are a steady enthrallment to a small group of boys in my class.

My collection of Legos is bits and pieces left over from my own kids’ younger days, with mixtures of all sorts of models. The students love digging to the bottom of the large container and finding unique odds and ends to put into their own creations.

Today, a boy happily danced over to me, exclaiming over a piece he had just found.

Boy: Look, Mrs. Who, I found a horse’s head!

Me: Indeed…what are you going to do with it?

Boy: I’m going to put it into my house I’m building.

Me: In the house?

Boy: Yeah, in the bedroom!

Me: *blink, blink* (shades of ‘The Godfather’ are going through my head)

Boy: (dancing back to his Lego-house) Yeah, just like my Dad did.

Me: *blink, blink, mouth dropping open*

Boy: He puts deer antlers up in the bedroom, and I’m going to put up the horse’s head.

Me: Isn’t it time for the dismissal bell yet???

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(bonus points if you know the title reference without having to look it up)

Eraserhead is home from college for Spring Break!

Seems Pvt. Goob is getting married. In August.

How did we find out?

On Facebook. A comment that I caught in passing.

*sigh*

It’s been an experience getting to know my new student from Haiti. Anybody know much about Haitian culture? I require my students to be polite and use good manners. However, this little boy doesn’t say ‘ma’am’. With his accent, it sounds like he’s saying some kind of ‘yeah’…but it might be the normal polite reply. I’m not requiring him to say ‘ma’am’ because I worry that it would be subservient in the Haitian culture (due to the history of slavery there). He is polite in all other aspects, like saying ‘thank you’ when he gets something.

When the class came in from PE today, another boy had been apparently talking to ‘Henri’ about Haiti. My American student told me that Henri’s mother had died, but not in the earthquake. I asked Henri if he wanted to talk about his mother (since he had already said something to this boy), and he said his father told him not to. I did ask why, and he said because then his mother would come into his dreams.

Wow…talk about cultural differences. It also shed a whole new light onto a news clip I saw last week about a young Haitian mother who had lost three children. The stupid news reporter asked her if she had buried her children. She replied, ‘No…I just tossed them aside. I go on living’. At first I thought it was the shock making her so callous. But now I believe it’s something to do with their belief systems about death.

This is so different from the American view of ‘talking it out’. I worry that this boy is feeling lost and scared but won’t say anything because of his upbringing. I’m not trying to change his upbringing…I just don’t want him to feel alone.

But if anyone knows anything or a resource I can use to understand the culture, please let me know. Thank you.

NOT!!!!

You need a teleprompter to talk to a bunch of kids? TWO teleprompters? What kind of lazy-ass wuss needs all that prompting to talk to a bunch of kids?

Give me Bush and whatever the hell goat story it was any day. He got right down with the kids, and didn’t freak out and scare them on 9-11. Our current president is keeping his distance from the kids. Oh wait…he got out and shook hands with some of those kids…after they had removed the desks from the room to put up the equipment for the teleprompter…leaving the teacher to get everything back in order after his royal asinine-ness left.

I just don’t have a favorable impression of a man who has so little understanding of children. If you need a teleprompter to talk on a kid’s level…dude, you ain’t much of a man. And if you weren’t talking on a kid’s level while in a school, then again, you ain’t much of a man.

I’m back at work now, and can’t jump on the internet any ol’ time I please. Which means fewer posts…less blog reading…not keeping up with my farm on Farmville.

Yes…I’m addicted to Farmville, so help me God.

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Today was the students’ first day back. Some of them aren’t quite ready. I told them at one point to get out their notebooks and open to a blank page. One girl called out ‘Why?’. But before I could say anything, a boy yelled back, “Because she said so!”

Heh. That kid got an extra stamp on his reward card.

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19 degrees tonight. 19!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I’m going to hate to see my electric bill and my water bill. We have to leave faucets dripping, because most homes down here just don’t have the covers/insulation/whatever that y’all more northerly denizens have.

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

My son goes back to college tomorrow. I haven’t seen him since June, and it’s been so great having him here for a visit. Why is it that you can’t wait for kids to leave, and then you miss them so much when they’re gone?

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And finally, just because it made me LOL:

I just can’t pull it together. I don’t know if it’s the holiday stress, work stress, or family stress.

I just want to run away. But I can’t. I did skip a meeting after school today to try to straighten up my room. I have an evaluation on Monday, and I want things to look nice. But when I started sorting one pile, it led to moving it to yet another pile, which led to finding another pile, until I was really just walking circles around the room. I’ve resigned myself to having to go to school on Saturday to get things done.

And sometime in January, I’ll be forced out of my classroom for a few days while maintenance paints my room and puts in a drop ceiling. Which means everything has to be pulled off the walls, removed from my storage area, put in a pile in the middle of the room, and then my class goes to a portable with no computers or smart board or centers or classroom library for at least two days. AND I have a technology conference in Orlando the 12th – 15th of January. What do you bet the painting and conference occur in the same week?????

And I just had to pay $500 to get new tires and brake work done on my SUV. And the dog had to go to the vet…add $117 to unplanned expenses.

So with all that hanging over my head, I skipped the meeting. It was just my fellow grade level teachers, and thankfully they understand. They won’t ‘report’ me. But I couldn’t face one more requisite of my job or my life. I get up at 5:30 every day, bust my ass trying to meet all the increased requirements of education these days, take my daughter to and from school, run errands, cook dinner, try to get some computer time to unwind, do laundry, try to do some more school work, and wind up in bed around 11:00 PM. I’d like to go to bed earlier, but I’m just too ‘antsy’…so much crap is running through my mind I can’t relax. And if I manage to go to bed earlier, I tend to wake up after five hours of sleep and then can’t get back to sleep. But I’m too tired to get up and do anything.

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Let’s change the direction of this post…we were taking a Spelling Test today. I caught one of my students pulling a spelling list out of his desk and copying the words. He’s a good kid, and I was kind of surprised. In talking to him, I asked him why he was cheating. He said he didn’t know it was cheating…that he thought cheating was when you looked on someone else’s paper. *sigh* I explained that if it wasn’t coming out of his own brain, it’s cheating. So now, he gets to write the spelling words 10 times each for homework and dad has to sign a note about it.

Sometimes it’s easy to forget that kids do not have the same frame of reference and experience as adults with common-sense issues. Which is why it’s so important that the guiding figures in their lives BE guiding figures. Kid can’t raise themselves. Unfortunately, too many of them are doing just that. *sigh*

I think it’s time for some eggnog and Southern Comfort…a good nighttime toddy lately.

*sigh* It’s the same every year at this time…kids are excited about Christmas…and suspicious. It’s the logic thing…just how does Santa manage it? ALL the houses…in ALL the world…do reindeer really fly?

And they so want to believe…you see it in their eyes…the yearning to believe in the magic.

And it’s a glorious burden to bear the mantle of the last moments of childhood innocence. One girl, whose house burned down earlier this year, announced that Santa knew about her house and came early to bring them some clothes and toys. Ain’t no way I’m messing with that.

And the joy. Do you remember that joy of the expectation of Santa? Kids have to grow up so fast now…why can’t they have a few years of happy expectation?

So when they ask if Santa is real, I tell them that Santa comes to my house. That Santa Claus was originally the very real Saint Nicholas (and you should see their eyes light up as they compare the phonemes of ‘Saint Nicholas’ to the more familiar ‘Santa Claus’). That now he’s an angel with the magic of love that makes all the wonder of Christmas happen.

And as a teacher I have the honor of adding to the magic of love. So screw the regular Social Studies plans…we are going to have Christmas activities, with cutting and gluing and glittering and FUN! Life is too short. Let the kids be kids. Let them be innocent and enjoy the season, because Santa rocks!