The other day my seniors were doing a web quest on WWI and they were pretty horrified by some of the images.
Boy: M, what are you doing to us? This is disgusting!
Me: I'm sorry, what your issue now?
Boy: Have you seen these pictures of trench foot?
Me: Yeah. And?
Boy: SO GROSS! Why are we looking at this?!
Me: You have a choice of topics to look up. If it grosses you out, why are you doing that one?
Boy: ...Because it's awesome.
Me: That's what I thought.
Friday, September 30, 2011
Thursday, September 29, 2011
At least he has goals?
An email from a friend a few weeks ago...
"'I play football, I’m getting a scholarship' is not a good reason to blow off freshman English on the 2nd day of school."
"'I play football, I’m getting a scholarship' is not a good reason to blow off freshman English on the 2nd day of school."
Wednesday, September 28, 2011
Man, I'm hillariouse.
Yeah, three posts in a day. Can you even believe it? I have to post this today because it's just too awesome to keep to myself for another day.
One of my co-workers found a note on her floor this morning that has provided us with amusement all day. It started with talking about how my friend was "babbling on about something" and continued about some very interesting topics, like Halloween, the status of someone's relationship, and whether or not someone was still "heated" [angry] about something. We scanned the note so she could send it home to the mom. I wish I could post it, but I feel like that would be a bad idea. Instead, I'll give you a list of words the girl spelled wrong.
apsolutly = absolutely
eaven = even
hillariouse = hilarious
your = you're
their = they're
retarted = retarded
Retarted may be my new favorite word. If my friend calls me and asks, "Hey what are you up to?", my response might be, "Well, the first batch of tarts I made weren't so good, so I retarted and made some more."
Have I mentioned lately that I love my job?
One of my co-workers found a note on her floor this morning that has provided us with amusement all day. It started with talking about how my friend was "babbling on about something" and continued about some very interesting topics, like Halloween, the status of someone's relationship, and whether or not someone was still "heated" [angry] about something. We scanned the note so she could send it home to the mom. I wish I could post it, but I feel like that would be a bad idea. Instead, I'll give you a list of words the girl spelled wrong.
apsolutly = absolutely
eaven = even
hillariouse = hilarious
your = you're
their = they're
retarted = retarded
Retarted may be my new favorite word. If my friend calls me and asks, "Hey what are you up to?", my response might be, "Well, the first batch of tarts I made weren't so good, so I retarted and made some more."
Have I mentioned lately that I love my job?
And I've spelled onomatopoeia for them like 12 times.
My morning so far:
Kid: What is it called when words are repeated in a poem?
Me: Uh, repetition?
Two minutes later...
Kid #2: What is it called when words rhyme at the end of sentences?
Me: Uh, rhyme?
Kid: What is it called when words are repeated in a poem?
Me: Uh, repetition?
Two minutes later...
Kid #2: What is it called when words rhyme at the end of sentences?
Me: Uh, rhyme?
Wait until he sees the new facebook interface!!
Me: So you need to go online to my website and take a look at the review guide.
Boy: Uuuuuugh, that's so hard!
Me: Seriously? Tonight, when you're checking your facebook, just click over the my website. Not so hard.
Boy: But it's like A MILLION clicks to get to your webpage. You have to go to the school site, and then find your name, and then go to the senior page, and then find the folder. Ugh.
Me: I hope you never have to take an online class.
Boy #2: He did. He failed it.
Me: Awesome.
Boy: Uuuuuugh, that's so hard!
Me: Seriously? Tonight, when you're checking your facebook, just click over the my website. Not so hard.
Boy: But it's like A MILLION clicks to get to your webpage. You have to go to the school site, and then find your name, and then go to the senior page, and then find the folder. Ugh.
Me: I hope you never have to take an online class.
Boy #2: He did. He failed it.
Me: Awesome.
Tuesday, September 27, 2011
Everybody Needs Somebody Sometimes
I know I tend to play myself off here as some sort of cold-hearted bitch. To be fair, a lot of the time I AM a cold-hearted bitch. But then sometimes I'm a big ball of emotions that I don't always know what to do with. That is the exact reason one needs a blog, right?
For example, I was walking back from the counseling office during my prep period, which also overlaps with the first lunch period. (We have two lunch periods, as we're a ginormous school.) As I was walking through the courtyard (the quad? the common? whatever you want to call it), along which runs the walkway to get back to the English office. While walking I saw a kid from my junior class who was sitting against a wall, eating alone, just staring at the ground. My heart kind of broke into a million little pieces for him. I simply can't explain the sadness this made me feel.
I'm not a proponent of the idea of having a million friends just to say you have a million friends (I'm looking at you, people on Facebook who have 2,000 friends) (I'm way too choosy about the people I let into my life and I'm actually incredibly shy and awkward), but I do believe everyone should have at least one friend. I could survive having just one friend. Just one person to talk to, who eats lunch with you, who makes sure you're OK.
One thing I too often forget about my students, as strange as it sounds, is that they're people too. They have lives outside of my classroom, and sometimes those lives aren't full of rainbows, sunshine, and, well, friends. But I hope my classroom is a happy place for them where they have at least one person to talk to, even if it's weird 'ol Ms. M.
I guess my point is, and yeah I'm being emotional and touchy-feely so deal with it, that I'm incredibly lucky to have awesome people in my life, including a certain person who I used to eat lunch with in high school. I'm never as a loss for people to talk to and, although I can't say that I'm never lonely, I have enough people in my life that being lonely isn't something I worry about.
I'm just going to hit post now and hope that you all don't judge me for my crazy rambling. Then I'm going back to eating my egg salad, which strangely enough I'm eating all alone because B is at a conference so I have no one to talk to.
For example, I was walking back from the counseling office during my prep period, which also overlaps with the first lunch period. (We have two lunch periods, as we're a ginormous school.) As I was walking through the courtyard (the quad? the common? whatever you want to call it), along which runs the walkway to get back to the English office. While walking I saw a kid from my junior class who was sitting against a wall, eating alone, just staring at the ground. My heart kind of broke into a million little pieces for him. I simply can't explain the sadness this made me feel.
I'm not a proponent of the idea of having a million friends just to say you have a million friends (I'm looking at you, people on Facebook who have 2,000 friends) (I'm way too choosy about the people I let into my life and I'm actually incredibly shy and awkward), but I do believe everyone should have at least one friend. I could survive having just one friend. Just one person to talk to, who eats lunch with you, who makes sure you're OK.
One thing I too often forget about my students, as strange as it sounds, is that they're people too. They have lives outside of my classroom, and sometimes those lives aren't full of rainbows, sunshine, and, well, friends. But I hope my classroom is a happy place for them where they have at least one person to talk to, even if it's weird 'ol Ms. M.
I guess my point is, and yeah I'm being emotional and touchy-feely so deal with it, that I'm incredibly lucky to have awesome people in my life, including a certain person who I used to eat lunch with in high school. I'm never as a loss for people to talk to and, although I can't say that I'm never lonely, I have enough people in my life that being lonely isn't something I worry about.
I'm just going to hit post now and hope that you all don't judge me for my crazy rambling. Then I'm going back to eating my egg salad, which strangely enough I'm eating all alone because B is at a conference so I have no one to talk to.
Welcome to the jungle, we've got birds and animals.
Everyone knows that Halloween costumes for girls are basically "A Slutty ________". I mean, that's just how things are done these days. A conversation with a senior girl yesterday.
Girl: Guess what I'm going to be for Halloween?!
Me: A slutty animal of some sort? "I'm a mouse, duh."
Girl: I'm not going to be an animal!
Me: OK, so what then?
Girl: I'm going to be a peacock.
Me: Um, which is an animal.
Girl: No, it's a BIRD.
Me: BIRDS are ANIMALS.
Girl: I don't understand.
Boy: Also, you know that male peacocks are the ones who are all colorful, right?
Girl: That can't be true.
Me: How are your grades in science?
Girl: Guess what I'm going to be for Halloween?!
Me: A slutty animal of some sort? "I'm a mouse, duh."
Girl: I'm not going to be an animal!
Me: OK, so what then?
Girl: I'm going to be a peacock.
Me: Um, which is an animal.
Girl: No, it's a BIRD.
Me: BIRDS are ANIMALS.
Girl: I don't understand.
Boy: Also, you know that male peacocks are the ones who are all colorful, right?
Girl: That can't be true.
Me: How are your grades in science?
Monday, September 26, 2011
More reasons why I'm not actually mature enough to be a teacher.
One time a kid tried to take his pants off in my class. At this time it wasn't funny, but looking back the entire situation was so ridiculous that I can't help but laugh. I think that explains why I think this is absolutely freaking hilarious. I think I'd have a really hard time not laughing.
http://bros.failblog.org/
http://bros.failblog.org/
Your mom is a trickster.
A recent essay exam I gave asked the student to explain what a trickster character is.
My definition:
"A trickster is a character who, despite not being evil, leaves chaos and confusion wherever he/she goes."
Answers from the exam:
"The trickster character is usually the main character who is thought to take a certain path, but goes in a different direction."
"It is a character that has an "Ironic" twist to him or her."
"Someone who is portrayed one way at the start, and differently at the end."
My definition:
"A trickster is a character who, despite not being evil, leaves chaos and confusion wherever he/she goes."
Answers from the exam:
"The trickster character is usually the main character who is thought to take a certain path, but goes in a different direction."
"It is a character that has an "Ironic" twist to him or her."
"Someone who is portrayed one way at the start, and differently at the end."
Friday, September 23, 2011
Signs of Life: A Book Recommendation
Over the summer I read a book I highly recommend, Natalie Taylor's Signs of Life. A friend went to college with her at a tiny liberal arts college in Michigan and said I would probably enjoy the book.
Taylor lost her husband in a freak accident when she was four months pregnant. Her memoir, while heartbreakingly sad in parts, proves that one can move on without forgetting. Taylor is a high school English teacher and infuses her story with discussions of literature she teaches. She's honest and she gives a real portrayal of someone dealing with annoying in-laws, a newborn, her first triathlon, and people who think they know what she needs, all while dealing with her own grief. I'm not a wife, or a mother, but the book still touched me deeply. Taylor also writes a blog, Signs of (Real) Life, which I've enjoyed reading since I finished the book.
Taylor discusses a specific part in the novel, where Gatsby, after being told by Nick that he has no chance with Daisy because he can't make the past happen again, replies, "Can't repeat the past? Why, of course you can!" I've always played off Gatsby as a creepy stalker, because, well, he is. But Taylor gave me a completely new perspective of him...
"But this year I feel like Gatsby and I have a whole lot more in common. We both had a dream. We both pictured out lives working out in certain ways. We worked and planned and spent years trying to build a certain style of life. We both had vision of future Christmas cards, he with Daisy, and me with Josh and the kids. Gatsby pictured himself and Daisy, sitting on a blanket enjoying the scenery of West Egg, talking about nothing, just relieved at the company. I had pictures Josh and me, sitting on the dock at Elk Lake, Josh swinging our baby boy into the water and talking about tying flies for fly-fishing and hunting for frogs. But like Gatsby, there comes a moment when it settles in that all the things we're pictures will never happen. And we both think, This is as happy as we can ever be. If this person is not in our lives then there is nothing else to look forward to. There is no image of the future on which we can rest comfortably. That person (me, Josh; him, Daisy) is the "incarnation" of our dream. For both of us, the dream dies almost as quickly as it came." (54-55)
I read this part probably four or five times in a row before moving on. Taylor's beautiful commentary has made me want to change my thinking about Gatsby's nature. I'll certainly look at the book differently when I teach it this year.
If you have time (oh jeez, who has time to read during the year?!), I highly recommend picking up a copy of Taylor's book. It's a super fast read and, I think, a requirement for a high school English teacher.
Taylor lost her husband in a freak accident when she was four months pregnant. Her memoir, while heartbreakingly sad in parts, proves that one can move on without forgetting. Taylor is a high school English teacher and infuses her story with discussions of literature she teaches. She's honest and she gives a real portrayal of someone dealing with annoying in-laws, a newborn, her first triathlon, and people who think they know what she needs, all while dealing with her own grief. I'm not a wife, or a mother, but the book still touched me deeply. Taylor also writes a blog, Signs of (Real) Life, which I've enjoyed reading since I finished the book.
Taylor discusses a specific part in the novel, where Gatsby, after being told by Nick that he has no chance with Daisy because he can't make the past happen again, replies, "Can't repeat the past? Why, of course you can!" I've always played off Gatsby as a creepy stalker, because, well, he is. But Taylor gave me a completely new perspective of him...
"But this year I feel like Gatsby and I have a whole lot more in common. We both had a dream. We both pictured out lives working out in certain ways. We worked and planned and spent years trying to build a certain style of life. We both had vision of future Christmas cards, he with Daisy, and me with Josh and the kids. Gatsby pictured himself and Daisy, sitting on a blanket enjoying the scenery of West Egg, talking about nothing, just relieved at the company. I had pictures Josh and me, sitting on the dock at Elk Lake, Josh swinging our baby boy into the water and talking about tying flies for fly-fishing and hunting for frogs. But like Gatsby, there comes a moment when it settles in that all the things we're pictures will never happen. And we both think, This is as happy as we can ever be. If this person is not in our lives then there is nothing else to look forward to. There is no image of the future on which we can rest comfortably. That person (me, Josh; him, Daisy) is the "incarnation" of our dream. For both of us, the dream dies almost as quickly as it came." (54-55)
I read this part probably four or five times in a row before moving on. Taylor's beautiful commentary has made me want to change my thinking about Gatsby's nature. I'll certainly look at the book differently when I teach it this year.
If you have time (oh jeez, who has time to read during the year?!), I highly recommend picking up a copy of Taylor's book. It's a super fast read and, I think, a requirement for a high school English teacher.
Thursday, September 22, 2011
Parties are serious. Deady serious.
I found this in my drafts from June 17th, 7:17 am...
The last day of first summer session, the kids brought breakfast food to eat after the final. One girl was really excited about it and planned the whole thing.
Boy: I thought you were joking about a breakfast party.
Girl: Dude, I NEVER joke about a party.
The last day of first summer session, the kids brought breakfast food to eat after the final. One girl was really excited about it and planned the whole thing.
Boy: I thought you were joking about a breakfast party.
Girl: Dude, I NEVER joke about a party.
Wednesday, September 21, 2011
I guess Roman numerals can be confusing?
Girl: So is it World War ONE or World War [the letter I]?
Me: Seriously?
Girl: It's so confusing!!
Yeah.
Tuesday, September 20, 2011
It's hard to explain a prounciation joke.
The other day two junior girls were discussing a fight they had seen and one girl said to the other, "It was like a battle royal."
Of course, I corrected her and let her know that "A battle royal is different from a battle roy-yal...one is two princesses fighting over a tiara, and the other is a hardcore fight to the death."
The next day the girl came in and told me, "I totally posted what you told me on facebook. I'll never forget now!"
Of course, I corrected her and let her know that "A battle royal is different from a battle roy-yal...one is two princesses fighting over a tiara, and the other is a hardcore fight to the death."
The next day the girl came in and told me, "I totally posted what you told me on facebook. I'll never forget now!"
Monday, September 19, 2011
I'm going to make a great cat lady some day.
Nearly 4 year old K spent the afternoon with me, because her mom, L, had to go to the doctor. Since K goes to the daycare at our school now, I can just take her home, once surprisingly uncomplicated the transferring of the car seat happens. The bad part today was I forgot to grab L's house keys from her, so I ended up just taking K back to my house. We had a fun afternoon. We went to the grocery store, had a snack, attempted to play Memory (which she didn't have much patience for), played with my cat )who was surprisingly amiable), read a story, and cuddled in my bed. (The last park sounds creepy, but she, for some reason, wanted to lay under my feather comforter and giggle.)
When L came to pick her up, K gave me a hug and then asked, "M, are you going to be alone now?" I told her yes and, jokingly, that I would be alone for the rest of my life. L was shocked at K's question until I told her that on the way home we had a discussion that one means alone and two means together. L felt better when she knew her little girl wasn't trying to point out that I'm going "to give up and accept [my] permanent state of spinsterhood and eventual eating by dogs".
Kids are funny and cute. Especially when they're not mine.
When L came to pick her up, K gave me a hug and then asked, "M, are you going to be alone now?" I told her yes and, jokingly, that I would be alone for the rest of my life. L was shocked at K's question until I told her that on the way home we had a discussion that one means alone and two means together. L felt better when she knew her little girl wasn't trying to point out that I'm going "to give up and accept [my] permanent state of spinsterhood and eventual eating by dogs".
Kids are funny and cute. Especially when they're not mine.
I think we just met Caliban Part II.
Conversation from my senior class this morning. It's pretty self-explanatory.
Me: So later today we'll review for the exam on Friday.
Boy: Whoa, whoa, whoa, we have an exam on Friday?! When were you going to tell us? When are we going to review.
Me: Um, a) I JUST told you, and b) I JUST said we're reviewing today.
Boy: Oh man, this is just so sudden. So we're reviewing today and the exam is tomorrow?!
Girl next to him: DUDE! LISTEN!
Me: So later today we'll review for the exam on Friday.
Boy: Whoa, whoa, whoa, we have an exam on Friday?! When were you going to tell us? When are we going to review.
Me: Um, a) I JUST told you, and b) I JUST said we're reviewing today.
Boy: Oh man, this is just so sudden. So we're reviewing today and the exam is tomorrow?!
Girl next to him: DUDE! LISTEN!
Friday, September 16, 2011
I wish all PDA included shaking hands.
OK, so this morning wasn't so awesome, but the day got better.
Between classes, I was standing over by R's room, and chatting before he went back to class and I went to my prep hour. Walking toward us were a boy and a girl who were holding hands. The boy is in one of my junior classes and the girl is in R's senior class that was getting ready to start.
Me, incredulously: Are you dating her?
Boy: Yes?
Me: And she's a senior?
Boy: Yes?
Me: Good for you!!
[I turn to the girl.]
Me: You're dating a junior?
Girl: Yes?
Me: You should be ashamed of yourself!
They both turn red. The boy turns to the girl, thinks about kissing her, and instead shakes her hand, and says, "Have a good day ma'am", and walks away.
I laughed more than I had all day. It was pretty much the cutest thing ever.
Between classes, I was standing over by R's room, and chatting before he went back to class and I went to my prep hour. Walking toward us were a boy and a girl who were holding hands. The boy is in one of my junior classes and the girl is in R's senior class that was getting ready to start.
Me, incredulously: Are you dating her?
Boy: Yes?
Me: And she's a senior?
Boy: Yes?
Me: Good for you!!
[I turn to the girl.]
Me: You're dating a junior?
Girl: Yes?
Me: You should be ashamed of yourself!
They both turn red. The boy turns to the girl, thinks about kissing her, and instead shakes her hand, and says, "Have a good day ma'am", and walks away.
I laughed more than I had all day. It was pretty much the cutest thing ever.
How to Piss Me Off
After three days of watching a movie, when we're finally starting a new book, which I'm pretty excited about, and I give you seven questions to answer about how you feel about politics and war, you should definitely whine about how "OMG WE ALWAYS HAVE TO DO SO MUCH WORK IN THIS CLASS". Because I can guarantee you that will set me over the edge and my response will be an icy glare and in a deadly calm voice I'll say, "OK, great, well don't plan on watching another movie in my class ever again, instead we'll do timed writings for three days in a row. Thanks for your input on my planning" and then I'll walk away while the the kids are whispering "dude, good job!" to the offending student.
It was a really good day up until then.
Thursday, September 15, 2011
It's a family thing.
My sister is a teacher too. Sort of. She's actually a doctor (a very specific kind of doctor, but I don't want to get into specifics) who works at a university on the other side of the country and teaches classes, as well as working in the hospital. I found it pretty amusing when she told me she was going to be teaching, as she's the science minded geek who likes cutting things up, and I'm the teacher. She's doing a pretty good job, as far as I can tell.
We hated each other growing up. (Seester, if you're reading this [I don't know how much of my blog she reads...], you know it's true.) When she moved out and went to college, we became friends for the first time. She still drives me crazy, but I love her, and I adore her husband. She lives far away and I never get to see her, but we text and skype and talk.
I like to text her in the morning on my way to work. Since her time zone is ahead of mine, I'm not waking her up. I send her pictures of what I'm wearing, if I'm especially proud of my outfit, or the name of whatever song I'm having a morning drive dance party to.
This morning I sent her a text that said (maybe this is tmi, but whatever), "I'm the kind of girl who has her period and still wears a white skirt. Fearless." She was in class when she got the text and shared it with her class, who now think I'm funny. I can't be too embarrassed, I mean, I just shared it with the entire internet. I then texted her back and told her she was a bad teacher for texting during class. She responded a few minutes later with a picture of her class waving at me. 30 minutes later, when I was at school and my class was getting read to start, I also took a picture of my first senior class waving back at her. She then told me that her students looked happier than mine. I reminded her that mine are 17, in class at 7:15, and are generally miserable human beings.
This is what it's like to be related to me.
EDIT: She just texted me again, "Your blog entry cracks me up. I read it to my students and they thought you were hilarious." Somewhere someone is paying like $30,000 to listen to my blog posts. Wow.
EDIT #2: I wasn't texting and driving. I was at a stoplight. I promise, Mom who just sent me a panicked email, I wasn't texting and driving.
We hated each other growing up. (Seester, if you're reading this [I don't know how much of my blog she reads...], you know it's true.) When she moved out and went to college, we became friends for the first time. She still drives me crazy, but I love her, and I adore her husband. She lives far away and I never get to see her, but we text and skype and talk.
I like to text her in the morning on my way to work. Since her time zone is ahead of mine, I'm not waking her up. I send her pictures of what I'm wearing, if I'm especially proud of my outfit, or the name of whatever song I'm having a morning drive dance party to.
This morning I sent her a text that said (maybe this is tmi, but whatever), "I'm the kind of girl who has her period and still wears a white skirt. Fearless." She was in class when she got the text and shared it with her class, who now think I'm funny. I can't be too embarrassed, I mean, I just shared it with the entire internet. I then texted her back and told her she was a bad teacher for texting during class. She responded a few minutes later with a picture of her class waving at me. 30 minutes later, when I was at school and my class was getting read to start, I also took a picture of my first senior class waving back at her. She then told me that her students looked happier than mine. I reminded her that mine are 17, in class at 7:15, and are generally miserable human beings.
This is what it's like to be related to me.
EDIT: She just texted me again, "Your blog entry cracks me up. I read it to my students and they thought you were hilarious." Somewhere someone is paying like $30,000 to listen to my blog posts. Wow.
EDIT #2: I wasn't texting and driving. I was at a stoplight. I promise, Mom who just sent me a panicked email, I wasn't texting and driving.
Maybe week 7 will be the magical name week?
Yesterday, at the beginning of my first senior class, the kids wanted to see if I knew all of their names. I did pretty well with a 30 out of 32, which they tried to tell me was a B, but I told them to do their math and they revised and gave me an A. The two names I got wrong were for boys who are brothers of people I had in the past. One of them I called by his brother's name (I know, the horror) and the other I just completely blanked on.
I know it's week 6 and I should know their names, but oh well.
I know it's week 6 and I should know their names, but oh well.
Wednesday, September 14, 2011
This day has left me in a quandary.
Backstory: Earlier in class a kid asked if I have a bedtime. I do, it's 10pm. He asked why, and I said because if I don't get a decent amount of sleep then I'll be a bitch to my first class of the day in the morning.
"The man was laying on the ground in a quandary."
Me: OK, but why was he in a quandary? What happened to him? I need more info.
Boy: Uh...the man was laying on the ground in a quandary because of all the acid he took.
Me: Dude, inappropriate for school.
Boy: What?! You just said bitch!
Me: I called myself a bitch. I wasn't all, "Bitch, I'm on acid!"
Apparently that was the funniest thing I've ever said in my life because my class completely lost it. I even started laughing and admitted that I'm was shocked I was able to say that with a straight face. I then apologized to them and begged them not to tell their parents because I didn't feel like getting fired this week.
"The man was laying on the ground in a quandary."
Me: OK, but why was he in a quandary? What happened to him? I need more info.
Boy: Uh...the man was laying on the ground in a quandary because of all the acid he took.
Me: Dude, inappropriate for school.
Boy: What?! You just said bitch!
Me: I called myself a bitch. I wasn't all, "Bitch, I'm on acid!"
Apparently that was the funniest thing I've ever said in my life because my class completely lost it. I even started laughing and admitted that I'm was shocked I was able to say that with a straight face. I then apologized to them and begged them not to tell their parents because I didn't feel like getting fired this week.
Tuesday, September 13, 2011
The lowest ebb is the turn of the tide.
I've done a lot of complaining this year and not a lot of reminding myself why I do this job. Today I had one of those moments that I need to hold to to and drag out when everything sucks and I want to quit.
My juniors are reading some Henry Wadsworth Longfellow poetry in groups and then teaching their poems to the class. Two boys, a baseball player and a football player, were working together on the poem "Loss and Gain" and just couldn't get it. I told them to look up what "ebb" means and then to focus on the last two lines. I sat with them for a few minutes, coaxing the meaning of those lines, especially the last one, when the football player turned to me and suddenly the light came on above his head. He got wide eyed and said, "Wait, so when the tide goes out, then is has to come back in, right? So it means..." He stopped there and I smiled big to let him know he had gotten it. He turned to his friend and excitedly started to explain the poem to him.
Those are the moments I have to remember, because Longfellow was right, the lowest ebb is the turn of the tide.
My juniors are reading some Henry Wadsworth Longfellow poetry in groups and then teaching their poems to the class. Two boys, a baseball player and a football player, were working together on the poem "Loss and Gain" and just couldn't get it. I told them to look up what "ebb" means and then to focus on the last two lines. I sat with them for a few minutes, coaxing the meaning of those lines, especially the last one, when the football player turned to me and suddenly the light came on above his head. He got wide eyed and said, "Wait, so when the tide goes out, then is has to come back in, right? So it means..." He stopped there and I smiled big to let him know he had gotten it. He turned to his friend and excitedly started to explain the poem to him.
Those are the moments I have to remember, because Longfellow was right, the lowest ebb is the turn of the tide.
I have zero sympathy for anyone.
At the end of last year, Feste and two of his partners in crime made me a super adorable collage with pictures of the three of them over the year. It's currently hanging by my desk in my classroom and it makes me smile every time I see it. One of the three boys dated a junior last year, who he broke with after prom, and now she's in my senior class.
Yesterday she came up to my desk and said, "This is going to sound a little crazy, but can you take that picture down? It makes me sad." I just stared at her and asked her, "Seriously?" Then I realized that maybe that was a little insensitive and told her I'd take it down for a while, but not forever, at the most two months.
I guess I don't have sympathy for anyone anymore, much less silly love-struck teenage girls, even though I can clearly remember being a silly love-struck teenage girl.
(True story: sometimes I AM still a silly love-struck 30 year old woman.)
Yesterday she came up to my desk and said, "This is going to sound a little crazy, but can you take that picture down? It makes me sad." I just stared at her and asked her, "Seriously?" Then I realized that maybe that was a little insensitive and told her I'd take it down for a while, but not forever, at the most two months.
I guess I don't have sympathy for anyone anymore, much less silly love-struck teenage girls, even though I can clearly remember being a silly love-struck teenage girl.
(True story: sometimes I AM still a silly love-struck 30 year old woman.)
Monday, September 12, 2011
Stay classy, Forever 21.
Forever 21, the purveyor of cheap, and oftentimes slutty (granted a friend of min has a few cute dresses from there)), clothing is keeping it classy this week. Following in the footsteps of JC Penney's way classy "I'm too pretty to do homework, so my brother has to do it for me" shirt, Forever 21 has a new "Allergic to Algebra" shirt. If there's one thing as an educator that I fully believe, it's that we should teach girls that being dumb, giggly, and useless is going to get them far in life and they should definitely display that on their clothing to make it easier for boys to notice them. Wait, no, I don't believe that. Strike that, reverse it.
How about we remind girls that being smart, well-read, and hard-working is awesome? The next time you want a shirt, go with these fun shirts from ThinkGeek, Shirt Woot, Snorg Tees or Threadless.
Ladies, let's be smarter than Forever 21 thinks we have the ability to be, and let's teach our daughters, nieces, friends, and students the same thing.
Me and my foul mouh.
One of the especially awesome things about this year so far is that I got my first parent to administration complaint in my teaching career. The second week of school, I got an email asking me to stop by the assistant principal's office. She then told me she had gotten a phone call from a parent (who refused to identify himself), who said his son (whose name or class period he refused to give), said I said something offensive in class...although he wouldn't say what I said. All the AP got was, "M has a foul mouth."
Well...duh. I told the AP about the day I said fuck, and said maybe that was the cause of it. Although, between you and me and the rest of the internet, it could have been a number of things I said during the first week. I played it a bit light and loose that week.
To me though, the best part of that day was when I called my mom to tell her about it, her immediate reaction was, "Good lord, what did you say this time?" Well played, Mom.
Well...duh. I told the AP about the day I said fuck, and said maybe that was the cause of it. Although, between you and me and the rest of the internet, it could have been a number of things I said during the first week. I played it a bit light and loose that week.
To me though, the best part of that day was when I called my mom to tell her about it, her immediate reaction was, "Good lord, what did you say this time?" Well played, Mom.
Friday, September 9, 2011
Also, somehow it makes my classroom smell good.
Pro of having two windows in my classroom: I can see when it's raining.
Con of having two windows in my classroom: My students can see when it's raining and that knowledge turns them into something akin to a five year old who has had seven ice cream cones.
I like to rhyme, all the time.
I love giving writing assignments where the kids have to rhyme. Watching them attempt to rhyme is absolutely hilarious. If you can't find a word to rhyme with delinquent, then don't use that word! They make it seem like it's that hardest thing I've ever made them do. I just had this conversation with a girl...
Girl: What's an isthmus?
[I define it for her, using Google define, which is one of my most favorite things.]
Girl: So, it's like the opposite of an island?
Me: Uh, no, the opposite of an island would be a land-locked state.
Girl: Oh. Well, I'm using it anyway because it rhymes with Christmas.
Me: OK, go for it.
Girl: Um...how do you spell it?
Girl: What's an isthmus?
[I define it for her, using Google define, which is one of my most favorite things.]
Girl: So, it's like the opposite of an island?
Me: Uh, no, the opposite of an island would be a land-locked state.
Girl: Oh. Well, I'm using it anyway because it rhymes with Christmas.
Me: OK, go for it.
Girl: Um...how do you spell it?
Thursday, September 8, 2011
The State of Things
I'm OK. I promise. I seem to have to assure people of this a lot lately. Especially my mom. After the Freak Out of Last Tuesday, my mom called me every day to check on me, like I was going to kill myself.
Things have gotten better. Not substantially, but a bit. I got a lot of grading done over the holiday weekend. I'm starting to understand all this new technology, even though it's still making entering grades take three times as long as it used to. I haven't had to have any come-to-Jesus talks with anyone this week, which is an improvement over last week's four. I'm feeling like my sassy old self again. I can make jokes in class. I'm starting to feel like everything is going to be OK. Of course, this feeling could be fleeting and I could be back to square one tomorrow, curled up and crying in my desk chair, but for now I'm thinking positively.
The one thing I will say for myself is that I'm incredibly lucky, in that I have a fantastic group of supportive friends. My work spouse deserves a medal for putting up with my crankiness. Even better is his actual spouse (who is also a teacher), who had a wine and whine day with me this week, which entailed two bottles of wine, a lot of hummus, and their adorable baby giggling and rolling all over the floor. None of my friends have told me to shut the hell up or that what I'm feeling isn't OK. One of the best pieces of advice I've ever gotten was from a friend who is still one of my best friends. She told me when we were 16, "You can be as pissy as you want to be!", which is still something I live by. I'm allowed to be in a bad mood. It's my Constitutional right. Or something like that.
But now I'm done being pissy. (Although, let's be honest, I'll always be a little pissy, my work spouse can attest to that.) I think I'm ready to give it all another try, because maybe this year won't be as bad as I've predicted. I mean, today I've already laughed a whole lot in my senior classes, had cake, and danced around with one of the librarians to the "Time Warp". How can this day be bad? (OK, I may have just jinxed myself there...)
Now back to our regularly scheduled programming...
Things have gotten better. Not substantially, but a bit. I got a lot of grading done over the holiday weekend. I'm starting to understand all this new technology, even though it's still making entering grades take three times as long as it used to. I haven't had to have any come-to-Jesus talks with anyone this week, which is an improvement over last week's four. I'm feeling like my sassy old self again. I can make jokes in class. I'm starting to feel like everything is going to be OK. Of course, this feeling could be fleeting and I could be back to square one tomorrow, curled up and crying in my desk chair, but for now I'm thinking positively.
The one thing I will say for myself is that I'm incredibly lucky, in that I have a fantastic group of supportive friends. My work spouse deserves a medal for putting up with my crankiness. Even better is his actual spouse (who is also a teacher), who had a wine and whine day with me this week, which entailed two bottles of wine, a lot of hummus, and their adorable baby giggling and rolling all over the floor. None of my friends have told me to shut the hell up or that what I'm feeling isn't OK. One of the best pieces of advice I've ever gotten was from a friend who is still one of my best friends. She told me when we were 16, "You can be as pissy as you want to be!", which is still something I live by. I'm allowed to be in a bad mood. It's my Constitutional right. Or something like that.
But now I'm done being pissy. (Although, let's be honest, I'll always be a little pissy, my work spouse can attest to that.) I think I'm ready to give it all another try, because maybe this year won't be as bad as I've predicted. I mean, today I've already laughed a whole lot in my senior classes, had cake, and danced around with one of the librarians to the "Time Warp". How can this day be bad? (OK, I may have just jinxed myself there...)
Now back to our regularly scheduled programming...
Wednesday, September 7, 2011
Tuesday, September 6, 2011
A list of things I need to remember, courtesty of Mrs. Chili.
My friend Mrs. Chili over at A Teacher's Education posted a list today of reasons she loves her job. I loved her reasons, so I'm reposting them here. OK, so 5-7 don't really apply to me, and 8 is arguable, but the rest are pretty fantastic. Also, you should just read her blog because she's smart, awesome, and continuously beats me at Words With Friends.
Click!
Click!
Sunday, September 4, 2011
Besides, everyone knows that Sunday calories don't count.
One thing being a teacher has taught me: Sometimes it's OK to eat your feelings. I keep a jar of Nutella and a bag of pretzels in my desk for English teacher emergencies. We pass them around during lunch and everyone takes a hit. It's therapeutic.
Also, chop up your strawberries very finely before putting them on ice cream. They're so much better that way.
Happy three day weekend, y'all!
Also, chop up your strawberries very finely before putting them on ice cream. They're so much better that way.
Happy three day weekend, y'all!
Thursday, September 1, 2011
"Times are hard for dreamers."
It's hard to find something funny to post when you're not feeling particularly funny.
On Tuesday, for the first time in my career, I broke down, cried, and admitted maybe I can't be a teacher anymore. I'm unhappy. Really unhappy. I post this because a) I feel like I need to explain why I'm not so funny lately, and b) maybe someone out there has the key to happiness.
I don't know what it is about this year. Well, I do know...it's everything. I hate everything. It's the piling on of extra work that I'm not getting paid for. Tracking down, charting, and using data. New technology that makes entering grades take five times as long. Preparing for a state graduation exam that is going by the wayside in a few years. Understanding and implementing a completely new set of educational standards. Infinite numbers of meetings for PLCs, IEPs, 504s, PSATs, and various other acronyms that have infiltrated my life. All of this and trying to be the funny, smart, warm, personable teacher to a bunch of kids that I'm not, putting it politely, fond of. The maturity level is at about 5th grade for some of these junior boys. Oh, and finally, the air conditioning is spotty in my room, so most of the time I'm melting like the Wicked Witch of the West.
I love my school, my co-workers, my district, and the people I work for. I love my job. At least, I think I love my job. If I wasn't doing this I really have no idea what I'd be doing or where I'd be. My life would be completely different. But, despite saying that, I have to remember that being a teacher is what I DO and not who I AM. It can't be my whole life. I don't want to be the teacher who stays until 8pm every day, grading alone in her room, trying to catch up, and being the perfect teacher. I want a life outside of school, even if that means I'm number two or my students don't get essays back in a week. I didn't become a teacher to track data or to make charts about my students' grades. I want what I do in the classroom to be the most important part of my job.
Last night L called me to vent. She'd had yesterday the day I had Tuesday, which also involved a breakdown and river of tears. I tried to give her advice, knowing that I'm going through the same thing. The only positive thing I could come up with is, "It gets better? I mean, it has to, right?"
I have hopes that it will get better. And if it doesn't, we're going to just drink more.
On Tuesday, for the first time in my career, I broke down, cried, and admitted maybe I can't be a teacher anymore. I'm unhappy. Really unhappy. I post this because a) I feel like I need to explain why I'm not so funny lately, and b) maybe someone out there has the key to happiness.
I don't know what it is about this year. Well, I do know...it's everything. I hate everything. It's the piling on of extra work that I'm not getting paid for. Tracking down, charting, and using data. New technology that makes entering grades take five times as long. Preparing for a state graduation exam that is going by the wayside in a few years. Understanding and implementing a completely new set of educational standards. Infinite numbers of meetings for PLCs, IEPs, 504s, PSATs, and various other acronyms that have infiltrated my life. All of this and trying to be the funny, smart, warm, personable teacher to a bunch of kids that I'm not, putting it politely, fond of. The maturity level is at about 5th grade for some of these junior boys. Oh, and finally, the air conditioning is spotty in my room, so most of the time I'm melting like the Wicked Witch of the West.
I love my school, my co-workers, my district, and the people I work for. I love my job. At least, I think I love my job. If I wasn't doing this I really have no idea what I'd be doing or where I'd be. My life would be completely different. But, despite saying that, I have to remember that being a teacher is what I DO and not who I AM. It can't be my whole life. I don't want to be the teacher who stays until 8pm every day, grading alone in her room, trying to catch up, and being the perfect teacher. I want a life outside of school, even if that means I'm number two or my students don't get essays back in a week. I didn't become a teacher to track data or to make charts about my students' grades. I want what I do in the classroom to be the most important part of my job.
Last night L called me to vent. She'd had yesterday the day I had Tuesday, which also involved a breakdown and river of tears. I tried to give her advice, knowing that I'm going through the same thing. The only positive thing I could come up with is, "It gets better? I mean, it has to, right?"
I have hopes that it will get better. And if it doesn't, we're going to just drink more.
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