The struggle-bus is here.

 When I first decided to teach high school, my husband said, “just don’t go to Sam Houston.” I didn’t even know where Sam Houston was or why I shouldn’t go there, but I put my application in to the district and two days before school started I got a call.  “Hi, this is the principal at Sam Houston High School, would you like to be a long term substitute for an English class here?”

I did want to be a long term sub, specifically in an English class, so I said, “Yeah, I can do that.”  I told my husband when he came home and he said, “Well, I hope you don’t get shot.”

I thought, ‘how bad can it be?’

It’s bad. It’s real bad. These kids are bad.

Good news: I have not been shot.

Bad news: There was a school shooting at another high school in the district this week.  I think this is the first for our district.  Two students were injured. One was shot, one hit by shrapnel.  The young man who was shot died.  The suspect was also a young man- just 15 years old.  The shots were reported at 6:55AM.  What does a 15 year old have to be so angry about at 6:55 AM?

As with any shooting like this- it is tragic- senseless- and scary.  

Of course all the schools are on high alert now.

Lamar is the lowest ranked high school in the district.  They are not the biggest, or the poorest, the one with the highest number of minority students, or English as a second language students.  All those categories go to Sam Houston High School.  Sam has 96.4 percent minority student population. More than 70% Hispanic.  We have the 93% on free or reduced lunch.  More than half the student population speak English as a second language.   We have an 88% graduation rate- and that is very loose- there is a reason a high school diploma doesn’t mean much these days.  Some of these students are graduating with an elementary reading level.  

These school are struggling-teachers, administrators and staff are working hard for these kids.

But there is a disconnect.

Maybe there always has been.

These kids don’t care.  They don’t even try.  They don’t even pretend to try.

I often wonder who these kids are going to become.  Will they wake up someday and say, “Actually, I do want to be successful.”  Or will they live and die in ignorance and poverty.

I know poverty.  I know they cycle- I know the hopelessness.  I know the discouragement.  I know the press of poverty.

But ignorance was never on the table.

My mom was on welfare, disabled, bipolar, didn’t graduate from high school, and she made quite a lot of bad life choices,  but she wasn’t ignorant.  

She learned from her mistakes and was willing to compel the ignorance right out of her children by force if needed.  I didn’t need force.  I believed her when she said I had better be good ‘or else.’  In fact, I didn’t even need the threat- I didn’t want to be in the place where we were- physically, emotionally, economically- I didn’t want to be there.  

Purim 3.7.23

 Purim was a few days ago.  I only know this because my aunt celebrated it with her bible study group.

The other night I had a dream and it was Purim.  I dreamed that I was at a Purim celebration, and many people were offering me food.  I was turning down all the food because it all had meat.  People were getting irritated with me because it was rude to not accept their offerings.  I told them it was only because I was a vegetarian.  They said, “Ah- okay so we will send you salads.”  

So they sent salads, but all the salads had bugs on top.  Roasted, fried, baked, dried, salted- crunchy bugs.

They were like bug croutons.  I said, “No thanks.”  People started getting mad again.

It seems unfair for people to get mad at me for not wanting to eat bugs.

Purim

Bugs

Local “bucket list’

 A few weeks ago I thought I should write down a ‘local bucket list.’  My real bucket list items are things which revolve around travel to far flung and interesting places- pricy things or experiences which I would like to do or have- but reality check- no moneys.

For a ‘local list’ I wanted to write things that I could do without leaving DFW, things that were inexpensive and really do-able.  

To get some ideas, I of course Googled it.  “Local Bucket List Ideas.”  

I found a list with lots of ideas, but it turns out most of the things which I would like to do on those lists . . . I’ve already done.

1. Make a journal

2. Write a blog

3. Make a loaf of bread

4. Ride a mechanical bull

5. Sing karaoke

6. Go to dinner alone

7. Read a classic

8. Be a tourist in your own town

9. Hug a redwood tree (not really local)

10. Handwrite a letter

11. Knit a scarf

12. Read the book before you watch the movie

Oooh here’s one from the list I could do: 

13. Start a fire without matches or a lighter- sounds like a challenge

I’m gonna start a new list.

1. Start a fire without matches or a lighter- Lailah the firebug would be glad to help me with this

2. Draw and paint a series of self portraits (at least 7)

3. Read 24 or more books in 2023 (I’ve completed 5 so far)

4. Write 52 or more blog posts in 2023 (I’ve completed enough to be ahead of schedule already I think)

5. Complete (use all the pages of) an art journal- someday- but for now complete 52 pages of an art journal because I don’t know how many pages the art journal I will choose will have

6. Get a 300 day streak on Duo lingo in 2023 (I currently have 100+)

7. Complete teacher certification process by this time next year

8. Write a kids book and get it illustrated  

9.  Try acupuncture

10. Embroider or cross-stitch the Lord’s Prayer

11. Knit or crochet 100 pairs of baby booties to donate (I have 5 so far)

12. Complete 52 James Method verse diagrams in 2023 (I have 2)

“It was a pleasure to burn.”

 I know someone here is reading.  There is a quote posted way high up in the hall that says, “It was a pleasure to burn.” #Bradbury

It seems today we’ve lost the ambition to even bother with the burning.  We just ignore the books.  What power can they have over the minds of young people who are psychologically attached to the little computers in their pockets?

I asked a student one time what was something she liked or didn’t like about her English class last year.  She said she had a to read a book about “Firemen who didn’t like to read” and that it didn’t make any sense.

Indeed, if that’s what she thought the book was about- I’m sure it didn’t make any sense at all.  

Maybe I should make a sampler of this quote.

Benchmark testing in the funny room

 Today the students are ‘benchmark testing.’ Which means they are testing to see how they are going to test when the ‘real’ testing is given.  It is surely testing overkill- but the great state of Texas has goals and dreams for her students.  

It’s terrible.  I’ve considered homeschooling more than once.  It’s still on the table.

Anyhoo- I’m facilitating in another teacher’s room- and while the decor should be something I am attracted do- considering how I like to decorate- it is actually making me slightly anxious.  

I wonder if someone else’s ‘out of control’ makes me nervous because my ‘out of control’ is so overwhelming.

My house is OUT OF CONTROL and overwhelming.  I feel like a horder.  There is way too much stuff.  

Back to the classroom- there are shiny stars hanging from the ceiling, college pendants on the walls, colorful motivational posters,  pictures,  shelves full of Knick-knacks, crafting materials, books, calculators, computers, pens, pencils, erasers.  There are trophies and purple accents all over the place. Clearly this teacher has spent a lot of time investing into the look of this room, and it’s killing me!

When/if I get my own classroom I would like it to be more like a living room, less like a circus tent.

The clogs of flatulence

 I bought a pair of gardening clogs some years ago.  

For some reason I’ve always been attracted to red shoes, but I have big feet, so when I put them on I feel like I have clown feet.  Red shoes seem to scream, “Hey! Look at me!  I’m enormous!”

Nevertheless,  I bought this pair of red rubber ‘garden clogs.’ I figured I could get my red shoe fix, but since I would only be wearing them around the house or in the rain it didn’t matter if they were clown shoes.  

I put them on, and they were quite comfy.  Of course if I wear them with socks that is kind of silly because they are intended to get wet.  They are clogs- they won’t really protect my socks.  For the most part I would wear them without socks.  Let’s say I’m wearing my garden clogs in the yard, and using the hose.  Let’s say some water gets on my foot.  No biggie if I’m wearing my red-rubber clogs.  

Here’s the catch- if my red rubber clogs get wet, and I’m not wearing socks- they fart With-EVERY-Step! Not demure little sighing toots, but big juicy-wet poots. (Side note I just looked up synonyms for “fart” and I found “barking spider” and “air biscuit.” I’m not even sure what to do with that information.)

Turns out I can’t deal with the juicy poots my shoes produce, so sadly I put them on the “donate” box.  I put the donate box in my car.  I have been driving around with my donate box for weeks.  This has happened before. I put the box in my car- I drive around with it- I need the space the box is taking up to transport something else- I take the box out and put it in the garage.  I forget about the box.  I find the box again, but now everything in the box needs to be washed.  I wash the contents of the box, then I re-evaluate the ‘to donate’ items.  I put the items back in the box (maybe)- then I put the box back in the car.  Its a cycle.  

Today I walked out of the house and it thundered.  I said to myself, “Self- this if fine.  I don’t need to go back in the house for a jacket, umbrella or a different pair of shoes.  I can make it to work before the rain comes.”  Myself was so wrong.  

Fun Fact:  I HATE wearing wet shoes.  Whenever it rains, I pack an extra pair of shoes,  I wear a pair of shoes I don’t mind getting wet, then change to dry shoes when I get to wherever I’m going.

By the time I got to work there had been multiple ‘severe thunderstorm warnings’ on the radio, it was pouring, and I was unprepared- “Thanks self!”

I got out of the car- I knew immediately I was going to have wet feet all day.  I remembered I had a jacket in the back.  I opened the hatch, put on the jacket and spied my red rubber garden clogs.  “Ah!” I thought to myself, “I don’t have to have wet feet all day!”  

However, I forgot after all these weeks about the juicy poots.

So I put my clown shoes on to walk into work,  (a high school mind you) and over the cacophony of the drumming rain and the booming thunder- I can hear the fast ripping ‘air biscuits’ issuing forth from my feet.  Its too late to turn back now- I’m committed to this journey of steady flatulence, into and all the way through the building.  I raspberry tart my way into the main office to sign in and get my assignment for the day from the assistant principal.

I make wind and part the seas in the hallways toward my room.  I try different steps to silence the the horns, but to no avail.  My feet fly on the wind, or so it seems.  I finally get to my room and immediately change my shoes.  

They really are clown shoes, tooting their horns everywhere they go- “LOOK AT ME! The MOST embarrassing shoes on the planet!”

I hope someone can wear them without the sounds of guttural disturbances following them, for these red shoes go back to the donate box ASAP!

One less Reader- one less friend

 The greatest pearl this blog produced was my “fan pal” Scott Belcher.  Scott found my blog many years ago while hunting for a book I had recently read and comment on.  He said he enjoyed my writing and decided to comment to me to let me know.  We became friends online and in real life.  I have  many things I could say about Scott- who truly was one of the best people I ever met.  But, not now.  It is too fresh now.  His funeral is today.  I’m not able to go- but soon, I’ll give Scott my memorial- on that day when I’m ready to write and weep for his gain to Heaven and our loss on Earth.

Sweet Dreams

 Sometimes I have sweet dreams.  Sometimes I have really weird dreams.  Sometimes I have dreams that are so irritating that I wake up wondering if I really got any rest at all.  

But last night they were sweet dreams.

I was with a friend from the past.  We were together after a long awkward silence- very long in fact- like a life time.

It seemed that we hadn’t planned the get together, but it also wasn’t completely unexpected.  I felt uneasy because of some things I had said before the current meeting.  

We were sitting together- being uncomfortable together- when another friend came in.  I felt this was both good and bad- good because perhaps this new friend would break the tension and make us feel normal- bad because it had been so very long since I had seen or talked to this old friend that I had hoped that we would have some time to ourselves to catch up.

The new friend greeted us and started settling in for a visit.  We were happy to see this addition to our group, so the tension did break and we were becoming more natural.  

Suddenly the new friend had to leave, and he gathered all his things and was gone.

We, my old friend and I, were alone again.

Then he came to me- embraced me and and said, “I wish it could have been different for us.  I wish we could have had a  _____ relationship.”  I don’t actually remember clearly the word he used.  That’s odd because I remember thinking when I woke that the word didn’t match the feeling in the strictest sense. 

The word that I keep landing on now is “corporal.”  Corporal means ‘body,’ but this was not at all a sexual tone- more like a brotherly affection.  As I write this I’m thinking the body of Christ. 

Perhaps it meant, ‘I wish we could have had a relationship as part of the body of Christ . . .’ 

Or maybe it meant that our friendship will continue outside of our corporal existence- in heaven . . .

When I woke it was a sweet feeling- and a little sad.  

I wish things were different too.

I wish my girls had an uncle to tell them about the ‘War of Northern Aggression” (I think we all see those quotation marks- I considered making them bold- but . . . I don’t need to be too aggressive) and the Old Republic of Texas.  I think they would quite like an eccentric uncle- current uncles are generally low on eccentricity- most of them anyway.

Every day I’m shuffling - shuffling.

 I have been working full time sine the beginning of the school year.  I have been a “long term sub” for the ESL department of my ISD.  I will transfer to “Teacher” when I take (and pass) my teacher certification exam- and get the results back.  I admit I have been putting it off- but I’m ready now and I plan to take it this month.  The only thing that will change in this school year with that certification is that I’ll get paid more. :) 

I expect my current schedule to continue.  Each week students have eight 90+ minute classes.  Most teachers have six 90+ minute classes a week, one planning period, and one meeting period.  I have four classes a week, my planning period and my meeting period.  It is kind of wonderful because truly I don’t have much to plan.  I have two English 1/ESOL1 classes- which are English 1 classes for kids who have been the the US for two years or less. I also have two “English Language Development and Acquisition” (ELDA) classes. These are required classes for the same group of kids, but it is more like a study hall, additional help time.  — meaning I don’t have to plan anything.

The other two classes a week, I substitute.  The last period of every day is a surprise.  I often end up in one of the class rooms near mine- so English Lit, Geography, or Algebra.  Occasionally I’ll be sent off to the far reaches of the school- Art class, Welding class, Game design and development class, Fashion design class, Economics, Business etc.

Yesterday I headed off to a math class.  Not Algebra or Geometry- but some other name I didn’t recognize. I started down the hall.  As I walked I thought to myself, “I haven’t been down this hall before.” I walked in the room, and the first thing that happened was a student who walked up to me coming in in for hug with arms wide open.  He said, “Hi! I’m Alex, what’s your name?”  Then I realized, “Ah- I’m in Speacial Ed today!”  The next thing I noticed was a big guy walking around the room.  He looked too old to be a student, but he was wearing shorts and a tank top- not the attire of someone who was working there. I looked around and thought several of the students looked older than high school age.  I know that some special ed students continue on for training after they are 18, but this guy still didn’t fit in. I looked at him- before I could ask what his roll was he said, “I’m a helper!  I help here.  I’m a helper in here.”  So- yeah- seems like maybe he was also special.  

The teacher had left instructions like this: “There are worksheets on the table, teach the students how to do them, collect them when the students are done.  Make sure the room is clean when you leave.”  I looked at the worksheet and it seemed to be pre-algebra.  Maybe pre-pre-algebra.  

SIDE NOTE: Amazingly I got an ACADEMIC LETTER (didn’t even know that was a thing until I got it) in Algebra.  Was it because I excelled at Algebra?  Because I was an Algebra whiz who tutored all the other lowly Algebra students?  NO!  I was terrible at Algebra!  I never understood what was happening in Algebra!  I needed to keep my GPA up for scholarships- so I did work really hard at Algebra.  I asked A LOT of questions in Algebra.  I didn’t get a lot of answers in Algebra because the school was literally being torn down around my classroom, and the sound of the bull dozers and back hoes drown out my teacher.  I would say, “I CAN’T HEAR YOU!” (Caps for yelling this time.) And he would yell back, “JUST LOOK AT WHAT I’M WRITING ON THE BOARD!”  I think he gave me the academic letter because I seemed to be the only one who cared about passing the class.  

Okay- flash forward to the pre-pre-algebra special ed worksheet.  I notice it has number lines, greater than/less than symbols and a word problem about area.  I can do the greater than/less than.  The others are a no -go.  So- I walk around and start telling the students in small groups how to do that part of the worksheet.  While that’s happening big guy says, “Is it okay to play some music for the class.  The regular teacher  usually lets us.”  So I say, “Sure.”  I mean I don’t know what is needed to keep these kids calm on a regular basis.  This little Asian girl say, “Oh I know some nice relaxing music you can play.”  Good idea- I play relaxing music in my classroom- when the tech is working.  I put on her modern/light jazz play list. Seems good to me.  Big guy is all “What’s this?! I’m gonna be the DJ!  What do you guys want?”  Thanks Helper!  Now R Kelly and Pit Bull are spitting explicatives- and I’m all-“you gotta change that song and  turn it down!” I notice that some of the kids are holding their ears and rocking back and forth.

They turn it down, but toward the end of class it morphs into Tejano music and starts getting louder again. The kid in the corner says, “Can you ask them to turn that music off?  I don’t like Mexican Music!”  Class is almost over, and I’ve had enough myself so I’m like, “Yeah, I’ll turn it off.” This is where things start flying off the rails.

About 4 of the other kids in the class gather around the kid who didn’t like the Mexican music.  I don’t know what they were saying or doing, because when I say “kids” I mean like 5’10- 6’  200 lb young men. The kid who didn’t like the music starts squealing, “Leave me alone! Leave me alone! Get away from me!”  I go over there to break it up- I try to disperse them and get them to back away.  They are all upset because they say that kid is racist.  

I triy to explain to them that just because he doesn’t like a certain kind of music doesn’t mean he’s racist. There are lots of different kinds of music, and we don’t have to like all of them.  They all agree to that, but then inform me that he has said, “Bad things about people and their countries before.”  So- okay I can’t speak to that, but today we are going to back up and leave him alone.  I look over to quiet 'Asian- modern/light jazz girl' and she is visibly upset.  I go talk to her.  She tells me she is upset because they are being mean to 'don’t like Mexican Music boy.'  She asks if she can ask them to be nice to him.  

That seemed like a reasonable request, so I say,  “Yeah, you can do that.”  The next thing I know there’s an angry owl next to  me screeching “Leave him Alone! Stop being mean to him!”  

Well that set one of the boys off and he puffs up and starts pointing and yelling, “Shut the F#$@ up!  You just shut the F%$# up! SHUT THE F#$% UP!!!”  The wheels are OFF in this class!  The other student are trying to calm him down, and I’m wondering if I’m about to get hit in the face.  

Then, Mercifully- the bell rings and everyone walks out happy as little clams (if clams could walk)- except for Jazz girl- who is a crying mess.  I give her a hug and say, “Are you okay?  You are okay- it’s fine.  You are fine.”  

Then I walked out and locked the door.

Adios SPED class! I won't be sad if I don't walk down this hall again.

snow day-no go day

 It's our annual snow day in North Texas.  T went outside and when she came in she said, "It's too cold out there, it makes my brain hurt."  Yes.  Yes to that.  We, as a state, are sorely underprepared for all winter outbreaks.

Of course, now that all things are shut down I feel an overwhelming need to get my eyebrows shaped and my hair cut.  For weeks- perhaps months I've been telling myself "I need to get this done." Alas, I rarely listen to the good advice I give myself.  So, here I am with wild bushy eyebrows and hair in need of serious attention.  Here I am also ice locked in the house for the next few days of winter.  As so as winter has passed the urgency of my hairiness will also pass.

As it turns out crazy bushy eyebrows are all the rage these days.

may be my spirit animal

My study in hippos is not improving my ability to produce a hippo.  This one looks like a pig. The other one looks like a tired dinosaur.  

 Some facts about hippos:                                 

 1.  Scientists used to think that hippos were related to pigs.  Now they think that hippos are related to whales.     

      

 2.  Hippos are the heaviest land animals, or perhaps the third largest.  Depends on who you ask.   

 3. Hippos are quite dangerous and over 500 deaths a year are attributed to them. Sharks kill about 10 people per year, and champagne corks kill about 25 people per year.  Hippos with champagne corks kill about 525 people per year.      

                                             

4. Hippos can't swim, or breathe underwater.  The latter makes sense since they are mammals, but they can hold their breath for five minutes.  Which, to be honest, doesn't seem like enough time for an aquatic animal. 

5. Hippos nap underwater, but every five minutes they have to go to the surface to breathe- but they do it while sleeping.  They have some automatic reflex that allows them to float to the top and sink to the bottom while sleeping.  That sounds untrue- but I'm assuming the internet wouldn't lie to me about hippos.

6. Hipps are mainly herbivores but sometimes they eat people, and, lions, and gazels ... because they CAN.  

7. (the perfect number- to stop this nonsense-) A group of hippos is called a pod, a siege, a thunder, a sea, a herd, or according to the BBC a bloat. We should all believe the BBC- right? 

 I need to know more about hippos.    I now know more about hippos.  I'm going to give my Hippo representation a few more tries.  I know I can do better than this.

Bible verse diagraming or mapping

 This is called Bible verse diagraming or mapping. I just learned about it.  This style is called “The James Method.” You can buy digital or paper notebook templates at The James Method, or you can be cheap like me and make your own template in your notebook that you already carry around all the time anyway.

It took longer than I expected- and I tried to keep it pretty basic.  This one took me about an hour.  I used a  Bible app on my iPad, and online dictionary and Google to complete it-as well as a notebook, pen, and highlighters- obviously.

It was a good exercise-I think I will continue on with it.  This verse was the verse of the day from the Bible app- and I used the first version that popped up as my main verse.  I chose the other versions NASB and KJV because NASB is close to word-for-word and KJV is classic right?  I suppose if I had more room and ambition I would have also used NIV.  The main verse is in “EASY English Version.”  I think it is intended for English learners.  

prove me wrong

 I am currently teaching high school English.  As such figures of speech keep popping up.  The English class I teach happens to be for speakers of languages other than English.  Mostly Spanish- my French study has not come in handy so far. I was (trying) to explain denotation, connotation, and collocation just the other day.  

Some linguist I know threw out the phrase "collocation clash" today.  I've never heard of it.  He said it was like an oxymoron- when two contradictory words or ideas are put together like 'jumbo shrimp' or 'humblebrag.'

Then I thought to myself- 'Self- why would there be another word for the same thing? Why not just call it an oxymoron-because let's face it it's fun to say 'oxymoron.''

So- I looked up collocation clash to find that it is not an oxymoron, but also not clearly defined- I  concluded that it is -instead words or ideas put together that native speakers generally don't put together.  My example was 'holy cow' is a collocation because we find those two words together and it is expected and ordinary.  If I said, 'holy heifer!' - as a native English speaker you would know the intention, but it's not a collocation, because we don't usually use those words together.  

Therefore- 'holy heifer' is a collocation clash- 'holy cow' is a collocation, and I tell you in 'loud whisper' that Collocation clashes are not oxymorons.

“So … we’re robbing the bank?”

 I had plans for the long weekend.  When I say plans- I mean not only plans to do, but also plans to NOT do.  I planned to try out my sewing machine after it had been in the shop for several weeks.  I planned to read a book I had picked up at school. I planned to pack up the Christmas decorations, because, yes- they are still up.  I planned to work on the MOUNTAIN of laundry growing mightily in the laundry room. I planned to sleep in, and to have lunch with a friend on Monday.  I planned NOT to do any major house work, Not to study, Not to waist time at the grocery store, Not to spend (a lot of) time on social media.

Things- of course- went off course.  I wasn’t feeling great on Friday.  I was tired, and I went to bed early. (No reading.) I slept in on Saturday (Yay!) then I got up with the plan to stop by an office which had advertised it was closing and giving away unwanted office supplies.  The contact had stated that I should bring a box, as there were lots of folders, files, binders, desk organizers, pens, pencils etc.  I still wasn’t feeling great, but I took my box and went to the office as planned.  I expected to spend not more than a few minutes picking up some supplies, then a short trip to the store- the doggies were HANGRY!- then back home to do and not do for the weekend.

When I got the office it was a suite on one of the upper floors of a Chase bank.  I had to walk through the bank lobby to get to the elevators.  When I got to the suite I was looking for the contact introduced herself and said, “Anything you see that is not labeled ‘Rik’ is available. Do you want any cubicles?  How about this executive conference table? Any need for these dozen filing cabinets?”

 I said, “I just came for pencils and desk organizers.” 

 She said, “Oh! We have that too!” As we walked through the suite she pointed out all the things that were up for grabs, monitors, extension cords, network cords, chairs, desks, shelves, cabinets, tables . . .

Although I knew it I would regret it, I called my husband.  He has a passion for cords and power strips.  I saw some computer equipment I thought me might be interested in- admittedly - I thought I would like some man power to pack a few shelves into the van.  Not that I needed shelves, but some of their shelves were nicer than my current shelves so I thought a trade out would be nice.

D came up and we spent the next THREE AND A HALF HOURS pillaging the suite.  He brought Lailah and Tamzin with him, and they had a grand time playing with the phones, spinning on the office chairs, rummaging around in mostly empty cubicles and desks, and collecting “awesome things” like old birthday decorations and left-behind mugs.  D collected many boxes of cords, cables, backup power supplies, a monitor and a few unidentified objects which “looked useful.”

We ended up with 5 chairs, 4 tables, 5 shelves, boxes of cords, desk supplies, binders, folders, decorations, and two punch bowls with 6 cups and a Dallas Police Department mug. 

By the time we were done the bank had closed, and the doors were locked.  We could go out, but we wouldn’t be able to get back in-so we piled everything in the lobby, then moved it from the lobby to the van all at once.  The girls were getting restless as D jigsawed everything into the van, and they started to get a little wild- running around and touching everything.  I told them they couldn’t touch other people’s things or run around  breaking things like wild people.  They asked, “Why not?”  I explained that this was a bank, but it was closed, but we had to respect other people’s property because they were going to come back to work on Tuesday and wonder who broke or moved their stuff.  

That’s when Lailah started logic-ing.  She said, “So- this is a bank?”

I said, “Yes.”

Lailah: “And it’s closed, but we’re in it?”

Me: “Yeah”

Lailah: “And we can’t move stuff around or break it because we don’t want people to know we were here.”

Me: “Well, yeah I guess so”. 

Lailah: “And we are taking all this stuff we got from here home?”

Me: “Yes.”

Lailah: “So- we’re robbing the bank?!”

Me: “NO! We are NOT ROBBING THE BANK!!! Do NOT go to school next week and tell your friends and teachers that you robbed a bank over the weekend!”

Lailah: “But why are we being quiet and taking all this stuff out of the bank?”

Me: “Okay, we are in the bank now, but when we were upstairs it was a different business, and they GAVE us all this stuff because they don’t want it any more.  We just are in the bank now because this is how you get out of the building!”

Lailah: “Are you sure?”

Me: “YES! I’m SURE we are NOT ROBBING the bank, okay?”

Lailah: “Yeah-okay.”

Tamzin: “I like robbing the bank!”

Me: “Oh my gosh- I’m going to get calls about this . . .”

In the end- we spent all afternoon/evening Saturday “robbing the bank” and unloading the loot, and going to the store for the dogs, all day/evening Sunday at Gene’s birthday celebration, and I spend most of the afternoon on Monday chatting, lunching, and shopping with a friend.  I still wasn’t feeling great- so I rested on Monday evening- read, watched a movie, looked at the giant pile of laundry and then went on about NOT folding it.

It was not a bad weekend- just not the one I planned/planned not.

Don’t be jelly of my clipboard.

 I did substitute teacher training.  It told me that if I walk around with a clipboard I will look official and it will inspire students to regard me with authority.  

I thought that was the silliest thing I had read in a long while.

But- one day I decided to use a clipboard to keep track of the attendance paper- as one day it got lost in a shuffle of other papers.  

As I walked around the room with my clipboard- I felt like I was inspiring students to regard me with authority- no not really.

I did, however, feel pretty official. 

Yeah! Of course I know what I’m doing, I have a Clipboard!

"I like you best"

 One time I was laying on the floor near the fireplace in a stranger’s house.  My friends were all at a table noisily playing a game.  They called to me and said, “Come, play this game with us, we’re having fun!”  I said, “No thank you.” I was reading a book I had found on the shelf.  My friend came to me and laid down beside me.  I read my book to him, and he read his to me. We laughed and talked, and I said, “Don’t you want to play the game with everyone else?” He said, “No, I want to be here with you.”

 

One time I was sitting on the sofa in a living room that wasn’t mine. My friends were all talking and laughing together after dinner, before a summer night. They said, “What should we do tonight? Do you want to watch a movie together?” I said, “No thank you, I’m going to walk to the library.” My friend said, “I’ll go with you.” We walked the short distance to the library, chatting about things that are light, and full of summer. At the library, we didn’t speak at all but met again at the door when the library closed. I said, “Didn’t you want to watch the movie with everyone else?” He said, “No, I wanted to be here with you.”

 

One time I was sitting on a bench; my friends were all around me.  My friend walked in and the person on my right stood up and moved to a nearby chair.  I said, “What’s going on?”  He said, “He’s coming. He always asks someone to move when he comes. I’m just making room for him.”  Then he came.  He sat next to me, and we continued on as before.  I asked him “Why do you always sit next to me?” He said,  “I like to be here with you.”

 

One time I was sitting in a circle of chairs, waiting for strangers to join me. I was among the first to sit down, so I watched as the circle became complete with people I has only just met. As the people continued to come into the room, the chair beside me was left empty.  A few people stood outside the circle, as there were not enough chairs.   I said, “Someone can sit here.” Someone said, “Oh, we were saving that for your husband.”  “My husband?” I said, “No, I don’t have a husband.  Who did you think my husband was?”  “The tall guy.”  She said, “with the dark hair, he stood next to you when we met.”    “Ah- yes, he always stands beside me; he’s not my husband.  He’s not coming tonight, but you are right, he usually likes to be here next to me.”

 

One time I was alone in a room in a house where I didn’t live. My friend came to me and said, “You should be careful, he’s just messing with you.  He flirts with everyone.  He will break your heart.” I said, “No, it’s okay, it’s a joke, it’s a game, it’s not real.  We’re friends.”  Every morning when I saw him I said, “You’re my friend,” and he stood beside me, and we held hands, and we closed our eyes, and we prayed- ‘LORD, don’t let us fall off the roof, or step on a nail, or break the pipes, or lose our measuring tapes again. Amen.’”

 

One time I asked him, “Is this how you treat all your friends?”  He said, “No, I like you best.”

white dinner

 I made an all-white dinner the other day.  Nobody thought it was as clever as I did.

It was baked chicken breast over sauteed cauliflower, white rice, and green bean casserole (in white sauce). We had cheesecake for dessert.

a can of poop

 A few weeks ago my mother-in-law came home from California with some 'sweet grapefruit' she purchased at a market. I did not volunteer to eat it, but of course, my child did.  This is clearly a child who has never tasted grapefruit.  She took one bite and said, 'no thanks.'

I can't blame her for trying new things- so I thought I'd give it a try too.  To my surprise, it really was a sweet grapefruit.  It was not terrible and I *might* even be convinced to try it again.

I was wondering the other day if I could find those sweet grapefruit in my local grocery when I spotted a CAN of grapefruit.  I've never seen canned grapefruit before, so I got it. (We all know where my child gets it from.)

While unpacking the groceries my husband says, "Why did you get this?!" (canned grapefruit)  

I said, "Well, I never saw it before, so I wanted to try it.  It might be good, you never know."

He said, "Sometimes you know-   like you wouldn't try a can of poop."

I said, "Umm- I've never seen a can of poop- so I can't say."

I tried the canned grapefruit today.

I took the first bite and thought, 'this is terrible, but I think I can eat half now and half later.'

I took three more bites before I concluded, 'I cannot.  No, no .... no, no, no.  Noooo, nope.'

In other news, did you know unwanted canned grapefruit can be an effective garbage disposal deodorizer?

I'm sort of a DIYer.   😝

curiosity killed the cat ( a got the girl in the butt)

 I was in my office when I heard the 4-year-old scream like the end was upon her.  So I got my fat butt up to investigate. She was standing in the door of the master bedroom with her pants around her ankles screaming, tears pouring- trying to tell me something I couldn't understand.

Something was still going on in the bathroom, so I went in to see what was what.

The cold water bidet was streaming FULL bast, hitting the shower door and splattering all over the bathroom. I turned it off at my own peril. Crisis and flood averted I turn back to the girl, who is still screaming.

I said, "Are you okay?"

Her: NO! I scared!

Me: You're scared because that potty got you?

Her: I'm all wet!

Me: Yeah, you're all wet, did it hurt you?

Her: Yes! It hurt my feeling!

Me: (SELF, DON'T LAUGH) it hurt your feelings? 

Her: YEAH!

Me: But did it hurt your butt?

Her: no

Me: Why didn't you go to your bathroom?

Her: I scared!

Me: I know my toilet is scary, but why didn't you go to yours?

Her: I scared (Melts into babbling again) sob-sob bug- sob-scared!

Me: OH! you were scared of the bug in your bathroom, so you went in mine?

Her: Yeah

Me: and the toilet got you?

Her YEAH! and it hurt my feeling and I'm all wet!

Me: yeah- bathrooms can be like that- let's get your clothes changed. 

My husband scoffed when I suggested we get a bidet.  But then he found one on sale, and got it- and declared it the best home buy of the year.  It is just a basic cold water bidet, but it has a powerful blast.  I mean, you get too excited on that nob and it could hurt you, and obviously spray across the room onto the shower door too, not to mention how it can terrify a four-year-old who was just sitting on the potty touching nobs- like you do- when a powerful blast of cold water shot her off the toilet like an actic bottle rocket.

OH, THE HUMANITY!  :)

The sub

 I have been substitute teaching at my children's’ school.  I had never substituted before.  I chose this school because I always pick them up after school and I knew I wouldn’t have to make any special arrangements to continue doing that if I was here and they were here.  Ideally I would have chosen a high school, and I still might next year.

Somethings I learned about substitute teaching:

1. Never agree to teach an elementary class when the teacher just couldn’t be bothered to show up.  WTF?

2. Never teach an elementary class

3. Especially 5th grade

———————————————————————————————————————————————————————————

My first day of substitute teaching I was filling in for a very well organized 7th grade science teacher.  Everything was laid out and detailed instructions for a variety of circumstances were included in a three ring binder.  The students were a little sassy, as expected, but nothing really unusual happened.

My second day of substitute teaching was utter chaos.  I had signed up to be a teacher’s aid for elementary.  When I walked in they said, “Do you want to take a 2nd grade class instead?”  I was all like, “Ummm- well, No.”

“No?- Okay, how about 7th grade band? You don’t have to teach music, and you will have an aide with you. It will be so easy- it will be a great day!”

Me: “Okay.”

The aide: “Follow me, I’ll show you the room we will be in.  We’ll have two classes in here, band and theater. There are 30 chairs in here for students. We may have as many as 50 students in here- but don’t worry.  I’ll be with you the whole time.

Two hours, a bunch of school gossip and a handful of conspiracy theories later he’s all, “I gotta go. There’s a sub who never showed up- they are calling another one, but I need to fill in until they come.  I’ll be right next door.”  

50 kids walk into my room, 6th, 7th, 8th graders.  They are all over the place, there are only about 30 chairs so they fill up 3/4 of the chairs, mill around the room, sprawl out on the floor, lean against the walls.  

I ask the students, “What do you usually do in this class.”  They say, “Nothing, our teacher has been out for a while.  He has Covid.  He died on the floor, but the nurse came in and moved his head around and brought him back.  Then the ambulance came and took him.”  I say, “Is he okay?”  They admit they don’t know.  (Nor do they seem to care.)

I tell the 50 students to sit down somewhere, anywhere, just  don’t get up.  I’m not even going to try to keep them quiet or on task with work I know they have from other classes- I just want them to stop moving around.

The 50 leave without incident. I feel accomplished in the fact that nobody died on my watch.  

The next class is small- there are only about 8 of them.  One of them is tiny sixth grader who moves around the classroom like a pinball.  He zips around the room moving in unexpected directions and at varying speeds.  I watch him spin and ping until he attempts to jump on a stool, miscalculates and topples the stool. He lands awkwardly on the legs.  I tell him to sit down, but not on the stool.  Soon he is wandering again.  He makes his way to a keyboard- I watch him as he tries to turn it on, but it doesn’t work.  He searches for the outlet,  plugs it in, turns it on and begins to play chopsticks. This is much like watching a very bad animal kingdom documentary.  I have no idea how long it is until this class is over, but I feel as though it has already been too long.

Other classes some and go- teachers and aids wander in and out sharing tidbits of unsolicited gossip and life stories. I smile and nod and make an effort to pretend I care.

The day ends- mercifully.