We're Just in the Dark Here

I'm trying to remember back to a first few weeks of school where we didn't have something dramatic happen.  Trouble is, I can't seem to find a memory that fits that criteria.

Today was no exception.

This morning, probably about 15 minutes after the kids left homeroom and went to first period, all the power went out in The School.  I was actually in the hallway on my way to the front office when it all went dark.  (Fortunately, since we have first and second period planning, we didn't have any kids.)  The power went off, the emergency lights went on and gave off enough light to somewhat figure out where you were going, and all was quiet.

Seriously quiet.

What was weird, is that in the nine years I've been at The School, this is the first time we've had the power go out and I DIDN'T hear a large yell from the student population.  Usually when the power goes out you can hear the kids yell.  You'd think they'd be used to power going out considering the number of severe storms we get here, but no, every time the power went out, there was an uproar.

Except for today.  There wasn't a peep - even out of the sixth grade.  You'd walk by classrooms and you'd hear teachers teaching (sans all our technology) and the kids listening, and just everyone carrying on as normal.

Wow.  Amazing.

Omen

You know it's going to be a good day when you drop the bagel on the floor and it lands with the peanut butter side up.

Sometimes I Even Amaze Myself

Finally. Freaking. Done. With. Testing.

It has been a long, long, long week.

The kids did great during the actual testing part of the day, probably because they wanted to earn their pay, and because they knew I'd probably go psycho-postal if they so much as made a peep. I think the thought of me being psycho-postal is enough to scare even the most hardened seventh grader.

The challenge was keeping these turkeys quiet during the time between when all the testing material was collected and when I was allowed to dismiss them to their first period class. Not everyone was testing on the same schedule. Some grade levels were doing different subjects, with different times, and then there was special ed extended time, read aloud, and later in the day, the make-up testing. And then there's always the rooms around us who may have started a few minutes after us, or before us, so perhaps weren't done. After being so wonderfully quiet for the test, they wanted to really let off some steam when they were done. On Wednesday they got really loud and I was about ready to hit the psycho postal stage, and the look in my eye scared them and they quieted down. I knew, however, that it was only a momentary fear.

On Thursday I had, amazingly, a stroke of genius. I have no idea where it came from but it came, thank goodness.

I grabbed my packet of white paper for the printer. "Okay, everyone, here's the deal. I'm going to let you all talk all you want, but there's a catch. You have to write it down."

"You mean we can write notes?" one of the kids asked, incredulously.

"Exactly," I said as I put white paper out on each table. "You're going to write notes. You can write notes, play hangman, play tic tac toe, whatever, as long as you do not speak a word or make a sound."

A murmur went through the class. This is so cool! She's going to let us write notes!

On particularly paranoid hand went up. "Are you going to read them?"

"No, as you leave the room you're going to put them in the recycle bin," I answered. Frankly at this point, I didn't care what on earth they'd write as long as they'd be quiet.

"What if we want to write a note to a person at another table?" another asked.

"Then you raise the note in the air, and wait for me to come get it and I'll play mailman and deliver it." Why not? At this point I was simply waiting for the clock to tick away as well so I could go deliver my testing materials to the check in point.

They loved this idea. Heads went down, pencils scratched, notes went into the air, and I delivered mail all around the room. They played hangman, tic tac toe, and drew pictures of their favorite Japanese cartoon characters. The key thing is they were quiet.

Score one for me.

Ever Have One of Those Weeks?

Coming back from Spring Break seemed tougher than usual this year.

Perhaps it's because we have The Class From Hell, and needed more than a week to recover from the exhaustion most of us have been wading through the past month. The fact that the weather has been hot, cold, hot, cold, and just can't make up its mind hasn't helped any. And knowing that the Very Big Deal Government Mandated Test is right around the corner hasn't helped either.

Monday morning it seemed like the whole team had something wrong. Mrs. Social Studies and I both had headaches and neither of us could get in the swing of things. Miss Reading was losing her voice, Mr. Math had no sleep due to a late flight and a 2 year old, and Ms. Language was turning green at various times. I don't think any of us really felt well until Thursday rolled around.

So of course this would be the week that I had something scheduled for nearly every single evening. Monday an event at the local University that hubby and I attended which was very nice and over in time to catch 24. Tuesday my college girlfriend came in from California (she's doing a road trip through the South in conjunction with a convention in Atlanta) so we did BBQ and gossiped way too late in the evening. Wednesday is Knit Night with my local knitting group. Thursday, hubby and I went and saw the documentary Brothers At War (highly recommend it). And today I'm off for Good Friday but I've spent most of the day in the basement as we're having severe weather with sirens going off and all sorts of goofy things.

So I may was well grade papers while the storms rage.

However, a few things to note.

Remember Bully Boy? The kid we suffered through for five months, then he moved, then he was back (and put on another team praise Mr. Enforcer)? Apparently his mother up and moved yet again during break and he is now supposedly somewhere in North Carolina. He's another one of those kids who never stays long enough anywhere to get any help whatsoever.

And then there's Drool Boy. Drool Boy was moved to our team because his mother thought it would be a good idea if he was on the same team our basketball coach taught on since Drool Boy wanted to play basketball. Problem is, Drool Boy may have, at best, a 50% average and isn't going anywhere near sports until he learns to wake up in class, do work, and actually care about something other than his gang-banging friends. Of course Mom is now unable to meet with us, answer the phone, or generally communicate with us about the fact that her offspring is running with a bad crowd and failing yet again. The kid is capable but, like Spicoli Boy and Stoner Boy, I suspect he's smoking something funny every morning. Hence the name Drool Boy which comes from Ms. Language who swears that he's going to drool on his desk one day since his mouth is dropping open so wide.

So the other day Drool Boy is in class and I'm reviewing elements, compounds and mixtures and I notice that Drool Boy is there with his hand in the air after I asked the class a question. A miracle! He's participating! I call on him and he blinks. Now this kid has some pretty slow reaction time, so after a minute I call on him again because his hand is still in the air. He blinks some more.

"Hum, Drool Boy, your hand is in the air," I say. "I'm guessing you want to answer the question."

Drool Boy blinks, slowly swivels his head to look up at his hand that's waving above his head, seems startled to see that, yes, that is his hand there, then slowly lowers it.

"I didn't know it was there," he mumbles.

Ah. Guess he didn't want to answer the question.

You can't make this stuff up. You honestly can't.

I Should Have Worn a Disguise

My first teaching job was in a town of 9,000. This was back when I did the Big Deal Career Change and went back to school to become a teacher. I had a previous degree (B.S. in Business Management) and a pulse so I was hired by one of my professors, who also happened to be Superintendent of Schools, to work as a permanent substitute teacher when I wasn't in class.

I did this for three years and probably learned more about being a teacher by subbing than I ever did in a college classroom.

I also learned that with the job comes a certain lack of privacy, especially when you've probably been in every classroom in a small district and everyone under the age of 18 knows who you are. It got to the point that The Hubster and I would head east about 10 miles to the first town that wasn't in our district to do our shopping and eating out. We didn't have any privacy in the town we lived in - everyone knew what everyone did, where they ate, what they bought, who they spent time with. You couldn't work in the yard in your grubbies with your hair up on top of your head and dirt all over your face without having a visit from at least one student or parent in the neighborhood.

So, when I moved South (being an economic refugee from Up North, the Land of Taxes and No Jobs), one of the things I made certain of was that I didn't live in the same zone I taught in. I didn't want a long commute, but I also didn't want the lack of privacy I had before. Most of the time it works pretty well. I do run into kids at The Mall, and often at the Walmart near The School, but for the most part I live my life in relative obscurity which is how we like it.

And then I lost my mind this past Sunday and wanted to save some time and ended up shopping in The Zone.

Actually, my church is in The Zone, but it's a small country church and I never see students there, just the regular church goers and Mrs. Eagle and her family. So this past Sunday, after services and a quick trip to the gym, I realized I needed to get gas and go to the market. Now my usual grocery store is on the opposite side of town from where I was. It's not even that close to where I live, but I live in a part of town that's fairly new in terms of development so we don't have any markets near us. We got lucky and finally got a pizza joint this past year. We got a Walgreens a few months ago and people were ecstatic because they actually have some food items there and you don't have to drive twenty minutes to the closest market when all you need is some milk.

For a moment or two, I toyed with the idea of just going to my regular market. However, that would probably take an extra half hour and I was right near a Kroger, and one with gas pumps, and I could kill two birds with one stone so to speak. And after all, what are the chances of running into a student? It's Sunday morning, everyone is either at church, or breakfast, or somewhere else.

So, I did what I never do, and that's shop at the market in The Zone.

And ran into three students.

The parents are tickled to see me. One of the boys wasn't (he should be embarrased by the progress report that went out on Friday) but his mother made sure to come up and say hi and comment on how he should be embarrassed by his progress report. Hey, I was happy she actually saw it since many kids like to pretend they don't exist and don't show it to their folks. The other two students, both girls, giggled and smiled and commented on the fact that I was - gasp! - shopping.

Just like normal people do. Hell, I even use coupons because I'm on a budget like everyone else.

I think they believe we sleep under our desks.

It wasn't that bad, actually, although I know I'll have about a dozen kids come up to me tomorrow and comment on the fact that they heard I was at the Kroger store nearby. It could have been worse. I could have been buying liquor!

The Premier Paper Passer

One of the things I hate to waste time doing is passing out papers to my students. With only a 45 minute class period, I try to eliminate as much "fluff" as I can from my day. Passing out papers just didn't seem to me to be really productive, although it is necessary.

To solve the problem of returning work to the kids, I set up a mailbox system. I have a big plastic file box, and there's a folder in there for each kid, organized alphabetically by class period. I give the kids four minutes at the beginning of each period to fill out their agenda, turn in work, and check their mailboxes. Actually, I tell them that they have four minutes, but they really have three. That's pretty much all they need. That saves me the hassle of calling out a kid's name, and waiting for him or her to get out of his or her seat, walk to me, and then return...or me having to scamper all over the room handing out work. I've tried having students return work, but that's just a big fat mess because half of them can't read the writing on the paper, they don't know everyone's name, and then there's the issue of confidentiality. Honestly, they all know who the goobers are who don't do well, but they don't need to have it validated.

Okay, so that solved the returned work problem. Now there's the problem with passing stuff out that we need to use during class.

Back when I had desks in rows, and not tables, I could easily walk across the front of the room and hand papers to the first kid in the row and they'd pass it back to the students behind them. Easy. However, I now have seven tables, plus the isolation island seats, and it's definitely not as easy to do.

And I believe that having a kid pass out papers is ideal because it gets the squirmy ones up and moving. It's no secret that I tend to have the hyper kids pass out papers. They're also usually the first to practically leap out of their seats when I ask for a volunteer. In any case, I go through a big deal every year teaching them how to do pass out papers. They are not to hand each individual person a paper (this can take freaking forever), but instead, count out four papers, and put it in the middle of the table, and then the kids at the table grab what they need. It works great if you have a kid who can do this without taking forever to count out the four pieces of paper.

So, last week we had the kids return to afternoon homeroom, the fifteen minute period at the end of the day when our homeroom kids return and we're supposed to check and sign agendas, send them to their lockers and - you guessed it - pass out the Very Important Papers that need to go home. I had a ton of papers to pass out - team newsletter, principal newsletter, and three pieces of paper having to do with our fundraiser.

I started off with two volunteers, Pinball Boy and Sweetheart Girl, and off they went. Pinball boy was back at my desk within thirty seconds.

"Next!" he barked, his hand out. I handed him the next stack.

Thirty seconds later he was back again.

"Next!" he barked, his hand out again. I handed him the next stack.

By this time I looked up and watched what was going on. Sweetheart Girl was doing a wonderful job of going to table to table and passing out the papers, but Pinball Boy had her beat in the speed department. He was flying. I don't think he actually stopped at the tables, he simply tossed the papers at them as he flew by. Papers were everywhere. Kids' hands were in the air grabbing at the papers as they fluttered down like multicolored leaves. They'd catch the papers, and staple them in their agendas, and then he was back with the next batch. It was a sight to behold.

He covered the entire room four times by the time Sweetheart Girl was finished...and she went pretty fast herself.

I have never, in my life, seen such a fantastic job of paper passing. This kid is a marvel. If there was a way I could bottle up his energy and sell it, I'd make a fortune.

Why Some Kids Don't Need a Pencil Pouch

Three days down on the first full week and I'm beginning to get to know my kids. This is pretty amazing because there's a big difference in learning 24 names as opposed to 32. It doesn't sound like that big of a jump, but when it's 12-year old bodies and they're crammed to the walls in your room, it can be a challenge. There are times it reminds me of the mosh pit at The Palace in Hollywood years ago in my college days. I'm lucky I remember my name by the end of the day.

So today one of my kids, Big Haired Boy, is up at my desk and I'm checking off that he has turned in his signed-by-a-parent science lab safety sheet. Now Big Haired Boy has really big hair. Really. Big. Hair. His head is a mass of tight blond curls and it's huge. You can't miss this kid in a crowd. And he's a really nice kid from what I can tell.

So he's standing there while I'm doing my thing, and beside him is another kid waiting his turn. The other kid is looking around and begins to stare intently at Big Haired Boy's head. It is, after all, truly a work of art.

"Dude," he says, "You've got pencils in there."

"Oh yeah," says Big Haired Boy, "That's where I keep them."

And people wonder why I do this???

**snicker***

It's Summer, Stoopid!

So Hubby and I were up in Chicago last weekend, enjoying one of our favorite cities. Hubby is a Chicago native, but left when he was ready for middle school and his dad got transferred overseas to South America.

Anyway, it's a great city. We had a lot of fun, went to the Randolph Street Market to look at the most amazing antiques and collectibles, checked out our favorite bookstores and ate vast quantities of Italian food. We were having a conversation while walking through the market about some landscaping ideas and yard work we needed to get done. Specifically, borrowing our friend Mr. Littlebird's pickup and getting a load of mulch. And this is where I apparently lost my mind.

"I'll be working all week at the museum," says Hubby. "That means you'll have to get the mulch since I won't be home until 7:00 pm or so."

"Yeah, I suppose, although it will be late afternoon before I can get out of school and hook up with Mr. Littlebird," I respond.

Hubby looks at me weird. He shakes his head. "Honey," he says. "You're out of school. Your last day was Thursday."

And it dawns on me that he's right. That I actually forgot that the school year was over and I was free (well, except for a bunch of in-service workshops).

"Oh," I say, "I forgot."

Hubby shakes his head. "You work too hard."

Obviously.

Honestly, though, I had a good group this year. Maybe I was just hoping it wasn't going to end.

You Can't Make This Stuff Up.

We have a student I'll call Scatter Boy. Scatter Boy is, quite honestly, the most scatter brained human I have ever met. Ever. The bell will ring and he will get out of his seat and walk out of the room, leaving all his possessions - his books, his binder, his pencil, everything - sitting on his desk. He loses things constantly. He has already lost (and paid for out of his allowance) one science book. I've given him a binder, a pencil pouch and dozens of pencils. He lost the binder in two days.

Scatter Boy, although he has a quirky, sometimes sweet personality, is pitiful. He is the oldest of seven, and his father is quite the disciplinarian. Apparently the other six are all straight A honor students and are perfect little angels, but Scatter Boy can't even manage to get on his bus to get home most days. He has an awful time in his classes because, even with Mr. Title in most his classes to help him and the others that need more individual attention, he just doesn't get what's going on. A lot of it might have to do with the fact that he's playing with pencils, shooting rubber bands, or generally doing anything other than what he's supposed to be doing instead of paying attention. I've made him my classroom helper, in the hopes that giving him some responsibility might be a way to get him some self-confidence and I did manage to get him into our after school tutoring program, but he hasn't gone long enough for us to see results.

Last week he got left, again, at school as he missed his bus. In one of his elective classes he apparently got a hold of a marker and tried to give himself a beard. He ended up with marker all over his face and hands. I suspect that he didn't so much as miss his bus as he didn't want to go home with marker all over his face. Dad wouldn't be happy.

That was mild compared to what he did today. Dad's going to be really, really unhappy.

One of my fourth period kiddos, Clingy Boy had to tell me why he was late to class. Clingy Boy has his own issues. He decided earlier in the year that he wanted to sit as close to me as possible, so he's at the desk right next to my teacher station - his choice. He often tells me how I am a lot like his mom, and he often spills his guts about things that are bothering him. He's a nice kid, but has some problems, especially as his grandfather was an innocent bystander during a gang shooting and got killed.

Anyway, Clingy Boy said that he witnessed Scatter Boy doing some inappropriate things in class so he went to guidance to file a statement because "what he was doing just wasn't right." Apparently Scatter Boy had a rip in his jeans, which extended from his crotch to his knee, and left an opening that was a little too tempting for Scatter Boy. Aside from pretending to "have sex with Mrs. Math's electric pencil sharpener," Scatter Boy also spent some time
with his hand inside his jeans, doing things that he probably should not be doing in class. Or at least pretending to.

Oh good gracious.

I never saw Scatter Boy because Mr. Social Studies saw him in the hallway, saw the rip, and decided that one wrong move would give everyone a lesson in anatomy, and sent him to guidance to get a new pair of pants. Apparently they didn't have anything that fit him, so he ended up in In School Suspension.

Mr. Social Studies hadn't heard about Clingy Boy's statement, so I filled him in. We then proceeded to head over to Mrs. Math to fill her in, especially because Clingy Boy said the incident happened in her class.

Mrs. Math was aghast. "He did what?" she asked. "When?"

I filled her in and her eyes got big. "He sits in the back there as he seems to focus better when he's by himself. I thought he was sick and sneezed or something as he came rushing up to get some tissues and then he used a whole bunch of hand sanitizer."

Mr. Social Studies and I were convulsed in laughter at this point.

"Oh my gosh," said Mrs. Math. "You don't think...he...oh that's disgusting!"

Yes, folks, welcome to Middle School.

I'd Like Some Green Hair Please

We had our Fall Festival last night.

I am so freaking tired I can hardly see straight. Still.

Talk about a long day...I arrived at 6:30 am, left at 8:30 pm...and was on my feet most of that time. One thing they don't teach you in Teacher School is that you'll be on your feet a lot and the value of Very Good Shoes.

Anyway...

Mrs. Eagle, Mrs. Language, and I, as sponsors of the Chess and Board Game Club, decided we'd run a booth at the Festival which was, amazingly, put together in about two weeks when we found out that the PTO decided they didn't have the manpower or support to do it on their own this year. The Jr. Civitan club and Student Council stepped up as did a few of the other clubs and even some teachers who aren't club sponsors. (For example, our new Miss Reading bravely hosted the karaoke booth.) We decided we were going to do the "hair and nail salon" which involved spraying colored spray into kids' hair, using colored gel to make spikes and mohawks, and do weird colored manicures. Kids could buy tickets for fifty cents a piece and go to all sorts of events - cake walk, 2 liter soda pop ring toss (hugely popular), bean bag toss, and more. We also had a craft show and a silent auction for the adults.

The three of us were busy for two solid hours making our students look even stranger than they normally are. Even at one dollar per "beauty treatment" we had lines 2-3 kids deep waiting to sit down and get beautified. We had boys come and get their nails painted metallic blue and black and then ask for red and blue mohawk spikes. Girls got red, white and blue stripes in their hair, with orange nails and black tips. Want glitter gel in your hair? We got you covered. Green stripes? No problem. Want an all over bright pink spray? Sit down and we'll take care of you.

Amazing what middle schoolers like, isn't it?

Maybe that's what makes them so much fun.

This is Not a Drill

Wednesday morning, 8:00 am, the third full day of school. I've got my kids working on a comic strip regarding science lab rules (or what would happen if you didn't follow the rules which gives the kids lots of chances to draw goofy cartoons of flaming labs, exploding test tubes and the like). We've pretty much just started our assignment when the fire alarm goes off.

I pointed at the back door and told them to start heading out, closed my front door, grabbed my keys and seating chart, and followed them out. The kids dropped their markers and followed my directions to the letter with no goofing off and no carrying on. Obviously the kids who were here last year know the drill, so to speak.

So we get out to the fence where our assigned spot is, I count all my kids, and we stand there quietly and wait. Mr. Social Studies and I discuss the fact that the administration apparently wanted to get our required monthly drill over early although we were wondering about the wisdom about doing it on a day where the temperature was predicted to hit 102 degrees.
Our assigned spot, after all, is not in the shade and it was already very warm. But heck, it shouldn't take more than a minute or two for them to give the all clear and we could head back in.

At about the time that I'm starting to think that it's taking longer than usual we start hearing the ever so faint sound of a siren. And the siren got louder. And louder. And pretty soon everyone is looking towards the front of the school, mouths agape, as a fire truck comes barreling into the front parking lot and disappears from view.

Holy crap. This isn't a drill!

The kids are immediately full of questions:

"Is the school burning down?"

"Are we going to get to go home?"

"Will we get lunch if it burns down?"

"Are we going to get to go home?"

"What's going on?"

"Are we going to get to go home?"

And so forth and so on. I guess it never occurred to them that we teachers don't communicate telepathically so therefore aren't privy to every little thing that's going on.

After about fifteen minutes, with no relief in sight, Mr. Social Studies and I decide we have to do something about the lack of shade. Assigned spot be damned, we're moving them to the shade because the temperature was rapidly rising. Fortunately shade wasn't too far away, and we were already situated there when Mrs. Squirrel, one of our Assistant Principals, came by to suggest we move. (Apparently the folks on Mrs. Eagle's side of the building had no shade whatsoever and The Principal called the City Recreation Department and asked them to come open up the Recreation center across the parking lot from The school.)

We stood out there for the rest of First Period, for all of Second Period, and part of Third Period.

Or for about an hour and a half.

Let me tell you, if you want to get to know your kids, standing outside for a fire drill for over an hour gives you lots of opportunities for conversation. Talk about a bonding experience.

In any case, what apparently happened was that a gas leak triggered an automatic fire alarm. The leak was repaired and we were all allowed into the building to finish the day. Of course, trying to get the kids to focus after their big adventure was a bit of a challenge.

Interesting way to start the year, dontcha think?

Kitty T.V.

How to keep your cat, and your hamster, entertained on a rainy day.

What to do with Elephant Poo

Momma Bird and I went to the San Diego Wild Animal Park the other day, which is one of my favorite places to go. Momma Bird goes there so often that she's invested in a membership so she gets in for free. It's well worth it. Every time we go there's something new or they've changed something so it never gets boring.

The shopping there is a lot of fun as well (another reasons Momma got the membership). We were actually on our way out and had stopped by a little ship when I noticed a table with some note cards, bookmarks, and other paper goods on it. On closer inspection I realizes that these paper products were made from Elephant Poo.

That's right, Elephant Poo.

Of course I had to buy two of them, one for me and one for Mrs. Eagle.

They are made by The Great Elephant Poo Poo Paper Company, and they truly are made from Elephant poo. Take a moment to check out their site, if for no other reason than to get a good chuckle. Gotta love a company that states, "We take the "oo" out of "poo".

And yes, the paper really is odorless. And it's actually kind of attractive in its own way.

If you fry it, they will come.

Yesterday Momma Bird, along with some close family friends, and I went to the San Diego County Fair, also known as the Del Mar fair as it happens to be at the Del Mar Race Track.

Honestly, if you live anywhere near here, this is worth going to. Talk about fun, fun, fun! Then again, I'm the kind of dork that loves state and county fairs.

And this county fair is bigger than any state fair I've been to. Honest.

We probably only saw, maybe, a third of what was there. We went through a few of the vendor buildings (I'm not much of a shopper so this isn't something I'd do much of), spent a lot of time going through the garden exhibits and the plant and flower building, went and petted cute farm animals in the agriculture building, checked out the entries in the knitting categories in the Home and Hobby Building, and watched a great show by a hypnotist.

And of course we ate.

I'm always amazed at the food you find at fairs. It's also the kind of day where you just toss the diet out the window because goodness knows, you won't see some of this again until the next year's fair. Which could be a good thing.

We started off with BBQ beef sandwiches on huge, monstrous sourdough rolls. Then ice cream. And mom and I split a cinnamon roll (her's are still better), and then fried zucchini which is one of my favorite foods. Others in our party indulged in chocolate malts, artichokes, and ice cream bars. I was tempted by the roasted corn, but I'd just made some the night before so I passed. I also decided not to take a leap and try the rattlenake chili. Maybe if they'd had small samples, but I wasn't in the mood to shell out the cash for something I wasn't too sure I'd like.

One thing we noticed is that there seems to be a competition between the food vendors for who can deep fry the strangest things. There were deep fried oreos, snickers bars, every veggie known to man (asparagus sounded interesting), and the usual corn dogs, fries, onions, and more. One of the new ones this year was deep friend avacados and tomatoes, which a gentleman we shared a table with informed me were actually quite good, although a tad gooey. Another one that struck me as beyond strange was the deep friend cola. Apparently they deep fry strands of batter, which are then placed in cups (and they look like worms) and then they pour the cola syrup on top and cap it off with whipped cream. Ick. To top it off you could have a fried chicken sandwich, but instead of bread or a bun, it is placed in between two Krispy Kreme donuts and, you guessed it, fried.

Amazing.

Retro Tosies and Hangin' at the Beach

In case you haven't noticed, I've been out of town a bit, visiting Momma Bird out here in Southern California.

For the record, I hate her keyboard as the space bar likes to stick..she, however, feels it isn't a problem as "I don't type as fast as you do."

It's been nice. The weather, amazingly, has been absolutely perfect. It's not too hot, and down by the beaches, it wasn't overcast. I grew up along the beach here, and trust me, June can be darn chilly and gray. They have a marine layer that hangs along the coast for hours, making tourists wonder just what in the hell made them think a vacation to California in June was going to be warm and sunny. They don't call it the "June Gloom" for nothing. Lucky me, the June Gloom wasn't in evidence today.

So a few days ago I mention that I didn't have time to get a hair cut before I flew out here, and mom mentions that she needs a pedicure, so hey, why not do a girls day at the beauty shop??! Great idea, so she makes an appointment for me to get my hair done and both of us to get pedicures.

This beauty shop rocks.

For one thing, it's owned by these incredibly tall red-headed sisters, and it's in an older building down on the main drag of the town mom lives in. These gals are funny and have a certain sense of retro style that's evident as soon as you walk into their shop. For one thing, when they're giving people manicures, they both wear what we used to call "cat's eye" glasses, all glitzed out with beads and jewels and things. The shop itself is all pink and aqua with 45 rpm records lining the walls, old radios on shelves, and display cases with 1950's beauty supplies in them. You get the feeling these gals are running a beauty shop combined with an antique store or a museum. It's a hoot! Everyone in there apparently knows everyone and they're all chatting and laughing and having a great time getting their nails done, their hair colored, and their tosies polished.

If I could find a fun, retro beauty shop like this near me, I'd be there in a heartbeat.

My toes, by the way, look fabulous in my sandals. Considering that I wear sandles most of the year, I may have to get in the habit of getting pedicures.

Today Momma Bird and I head out to the beach to meet two of my college friends for lunch on the pier. Alas, we are getting older, with more silver hair than there should be. However, we had a great time, ate some great food, and enjoyed the waves and the sun and a generally lovely day. Amazing how you can not see each other for nearly 12 years but pick up like nothing has happened.

Tomorrow we're going to the Del Mar Fair...I am leaving my diet at the door.

Waving the Buses Goodbye

The last half day of school.

Is the longest day of school.

Keeping the kids busy and out of trouble and somewhat calm is a challenge. My team decided that taking them to the gym to run and scream and throw basketballs around would be a good idea. It worked out pretty well (Mrs. Language and I even shot a few baskets - I made two, amazingly enough). No one got into a fight, we only had one jammed finger, and it kept them busy.

I took my class back around 9:30 to make s'mores (science teachers have cool things like electric burners in their rooms), which the kids loved. We also watched a Jimmy Neutron (I love him) DVD, signed yearbooks, and chatted about what the summer would involve.

And then the highlight of our day....bus riders were dismissed.

There is a tradition in our district that the teachers, staff, and the walkers all go out of the building and wave the buses goodbye. The bus drivers make it even more fun by laying on the horns and making a total racket. Kids wave from the bus windows, kids and teachers and secretaries and janitors and everyone else jump and wave and scream as the buses roll out. Considering we probably have somewhere in the neighborhood of 30 buses, it's quite a sight. Bringing up the rear of the bus parade is our SRO in his patrol car with lights flashing.

I don't know why, but I just love this tradition. There's something about the pure joy of it, and everyone involved in educating our children involved - from the support staff to the teachers to the bus drivers to the kids - that makes it a wonderful culminating event of the year.

And it's freaking loud!

Of Dances, Broken Chairs, Victory for the Non-Losers, and a Walk In the Sunshine

Daddy is visiting and that means I've been busy helping him with house and garden projects. We've painted the deck, deck swings, the shutters, planted tomatoes and marigolds, washed the house, and stuff I can't even remember. At least we're getting stuff done and I'm not cooking. He loves to eat out!

As you can tell from my ticker, there's not many days left so it's a crazy time at school. However, I'm so tired by the time the day is over, I haven't had much of a chance to blog, so here are some tidbits, here and there...or, as it says in the title, this, that and the other thing.

1. As usual, I chaperoned the 8th grade dance. I never heard of such a thing until I moved down here, but it's like a younger version of the prom. Well, sort of. We try to discourage the big elaborate spending of money for dresses, and all that and basically said, "wear your Sunday go to meeting clothes", and most of them did. I'm not sure if the clothing manufacturers are not pushing the Britney Spears Slutwear or what, but the girls looked a lot less trashy this year than in previous years. They looked, quite honestly, like cute 8th grade girls should look. Then again, the girls who'd be dressing slutty were the ones who couldn't come to the dance anyway because of the number of discipline points they'd earned this year.

2. Stoopid Boy made it to the dance (with a little help from Mrs. Partridge who decided that 35 points was a HUGE improvement and he'd earned the right to go). I'm glad he was there. We had our picture taken together and you can bet that one will be a keeper. I'll miss that kid.

3. Remember how Rude Boy and Cast Boy had a run in earlier in the year? Well, Rude Boy was in ISS most of last week when the kids were doing their Severe Weather PowerPoint Project. He lied to me (what a shock) and said he wasn't allowed to do his work up there, and then when I said that I'd talked with the ISS teachers, and yes he was, he informed me that the computer broke every time he got on it. Amazing. In any case, he turned in a project last week. Turned out it was Cast Boy's project which he copied and did nothing more than change his name. I about died laughing when I saw that because I'd actually helped Cast Boy with some of the graphics so I knew his project pretty well. (This is what happens at the end of the year when the server folders are a mess and the best I could do is have the kids store their projects on the desktop and hope they didn't mess with each other's work and or do something stupid - like copy). I sent Rude Boy's dad an email, along with the assignment attached which specifically spells out that any student who passed off someone's work as his or her own would earn a zero and a behavior note. Which is what he got. So he earned a whopping 48% for the year in my class. His Dad signed the note and was very apologetic in the email. He'd be better off putting his kid in therapy.

4. I mentioned to The Enforcer about Rude Boy's cheating incident in my room. His response? "Whatever you do, don't write a referral. I'm running out of furniture." Apparently the last time Rude Boy was called to the Enforcer's office for his latest incident, he flopped all of his 400 pounds down into one of Mr. Enforcer's chairs and it went crashing to the floor, along with Rude Boy. It's amazing that Rude Boy was actually able to get up off the floor after that one.

5. We cleaned out lockers which, in itself, is a scary thing. I don't ever want to see these kids bedrooms. One kids had eight - yes eight! - jackets in his locker. One wonders if his mother noticed that he was missing that many articles of clothing.

6. Due to the lockers being cleaned out, they've shortened the time between classes from five minutes to three. Hey, the kids don't need to go to the lockers, so why do they need five minuted? It gives them two fewer minutes to cause drama in the hallways and get into fights and trouble. Of course Brick Boy, who's never moved faster than a very slow stroll, is incensed as it is impossible for him to get to the bathroom and to class on time. Considering that he claims he needs to go to the bathroom during every class and between every class (his ploy to get out of the room and wander aimlessly), this was no shock. What will surprise him is that next year the kids will only have four minutes, not five.

7. We raised over $2,000 for the American Cancer Society's Relay for Life. Someone got the brilliant idea that we could charge the kids a dollar for the chance to wear a hat, flip flops, and sunglasses and they could go outside and walk around a makeshift track for a designated hour. I know middle schoolers will pay a dollar to do almost anything, but we were amazed at the turn out for Relay. Of course, they got to walk with their friends, buy snow cones and water, and wear hats and sunglasses - anything beats being in class. The weather was perfect, and Mrs. Math and I walked the route several times and enjoyed the break.

8. Cast Boy is in ISS for the rest of the year - and it was for something he did in another team area that got him written up. Of course, he found a cell phone and called mom/grandmother (Biological mom apparently has a drug problem so Grandma adopted him a birth and is raising him) who came down and pitched a fit because it's obvious that everyone in the whole school is picking on him. She demanded that every piece of paper in his discipline file be copied for her, which the Guidance Goddess did. Of course, considering the amount of paper in that folder, it took some time. Hope she has fun at the school board - she's lucky he didn't earn a ticket to alternative school.

9. The Non-Losers in the Third Period Class From the Very Depths of Hell Itself noticed the other day that all the Losers were - gasp! - pretty much gone from the class. They had managed to earn themselves stints in ISS or were suspended (one moved, we celebrated). I told them that their wish had come true but now they had to prove it was just the Losers causing all the problems in their class. They were a delight. We're making kites and they accomplished more than any other class. I think they've learned a pretty valuable lesson this year.

Why Field Day Was the Pits.

I usually enjoy Field Day. I like getting outside. I like watching the kids play kickball and volleyball and do tug-of-war and all that. It's fun. It's somewhat relaxing. And the kids have a ball.

This year it was awful.

That morning as I drove to school I stopped to get some sunblock since I'd lost mine on the camping trip. It was a beautiful morning, with a few clouds in the sky, a lovely sun rising in the east - a perfect day for Field Day.

Except, of course, by the time we took the kids outside a brisk wind was blowing, dark clouds covered the sky and it looked like the heavens were going to open up on us. They didn't, thank goodness, but that was the only positive point of the whole day.

Due to the cold weather the kids, who are usually baking in the sun and whining about the heat and slowing down somewhat (due to the sun and heat), were wild. Absolutely wild. My mom once said that her horses played more and ran faster in cold weather, and the kids were no exception. Instead of spending field day enjoying the sports and the kids, we spent it on discipline issues and crises management.

We started off with about eight of our special ed kids who were passing around condoms, which had apparently been shoplifted earlier that week. Mrs. Language, Mr. Social Studies and I spent thirty minutes trying to sort that one out. Especially since we weren't really all that sure they even knew what the condoms were supposed to be used for. Let's just say these were the last kids we would have suspected in a condom-passing incident. Amusing moment was watching Mrs. Language interrogate the boy who finally admitted bringing them to school and asking him, "Do you know what these are used for?" and having him hem and haw and stammer and finally squeak out a "Yes, ma'am." Her response? "You certainly weren't planning to do that here at school were you?" I thought he was going to faint from embarrassment.

Then we had some of boys huffing and puffing and talking trash and trying to get involved in a fight.

Then Faraway Girl complained that a boy from Mrs. Eagle's team was touching her inappropriately. Mr. Social Studies got a hold of him and not only did he admit to the touching, but he admitted that he was touching two other girls as well. (He got seven days suspension.)

Then one of our kids got smacked by a kickball in the jaw so I had to walk her up to the nurse, and discovered three other kids trailing us so they could get in the building and get their coats.

Then the workers at the city pool, which sits next to the school, decided to work on the pool which caused the field between the kickball field and the school to FLOOD with up to 4" of quickly moving water. One minute there's a dry field...the next minute we're trying to figure how to move 450 kids through it without getting them soaked.

Then we realized that we had no way to get Scooter Girl through the field as the path she motored down on was flooded and her scooter can't get wet. Thank goodness two PTO moms were there (selling concessions) and were able to take her back to the building in a van, with her scooter (which is amazingly heavy) in a trailer behind another car. We got her in for lunch, but due to the flood and the cold, she decided (unhappily) that it would be better if she stayed in the building for the rest of the day. I felt awful for her, but she's a computer nut and was able to go play to her heart's content on a computer in the library.

And we lost, for the first time that I can remember, Field Day. Out of 30 possible points, we scored...are you ready....three.

That's three.

For coming in third place in Volleyball.

Out of three teams.

It was awful.

Of Algae, S'mores, Sunburns and Screaming 7th Graders, Part IV

I love Mrs. Language. Mrs. Language brought along her own coffee pot so we could have coffee in our room. This is a girl who knows how to do mornings.

It's six in the morning, the girls are beginning to stir and Mrs. Language and I are in our jammies imbibing in the first cuppa of the day. The fact that we both tend to look like something chewed on our hair all night, had no make-up and were in our jammies was a fact not lost on our little darlings. They were just astounded and somewhat amazed that they saw their teachers - yes! - in jammies, with no make-up, with hair sticking out everywhere.

Whatever. They looked pretty goofy too.

Mrs. Language peers out the glass doors to see what the weather is looking like outside.

"Oh my gosh," she hisses. "You have got to see this!"

I go to the door and look out to see Mr. Social Studies, hands clasped behind him like a drill sergeant, watching our sixteen boys as Coach was leading them through calisthenics. They looked like sleepy little puppets as they flopped and jumped and staggered around in the early morning mist.

You had to love it. Apparently they woke the boys up at 5:30 that morning, rousted them out of their bunks, and put them through their paces.

And all that before breakfast!

After breakfast we broke into our three groups and sent each group off to work on their day's activities. I tagged along with Mrs. Language and the group that had the highest number of our loudest kids - including three kids from My Third Period Class From The Very Depths of Hell Itself (but definitely members of the Non-Loser Minority). Our first assignment that morning was the class on wilderness survival. They learned how to put together an emergency survival kit, what to do when if they get lost, and how to build a shelter. They then got to go outside to an area in the woods and actually build a shelter using branches and limbs. The girls got organized and working together built a very nice, study, and large shelter with very few openings for rain. They even pulled in a log or two to sit on as furniture, and put sunglasses on the roof to act as reflectors for search and rescue teams flying overhead.

The boys put together a circular shelter around a large tree that featured openings so they could shoot at serial killers and bears, but would also allow rain and snow to enter the shelter.

I think the boys play too many video games and watch way too many weird movies.

Our next assignment was the Lake Study (which was my second time around and even better this time). After lunch we did an orienteering course which was an eye opener for all of us. For some reason, maybe because these are only 7th graders, I had the impression that the orienteering course was going to be fairly easy.

I was wrong.

We all got instructions on how to use a compass, how to target your heading, find a point, and walk to it. We were then divided into teams of three kids per adult, and were each given a different colored map. The goal was to find six locations (painted coffee cans) in one hour and to punch our map with the puncher at each can.

And not get lost.

We went to the starting point, the ranger checked our headings and off we went. Up hills. Down hills. Up ridges. Down ravines. Over logs. Through thickets. Into bushes with stickers. Up more hills. Up even more hills.

I had to give my girls credit. They were troopers. We found our first two cans with little difficulty, but the third one was not being cooperative. By this time we had nearly emptied our water bottles, my bad knee (which I twisted slightly on the first day by nearly tripping over a backpack) was acting up, and my girls were starting to slow down a bit. We looked at our watches and decided we didn't have time to continue looking for the rest of the cans, so we found one of the hiking trails that would take us back to the rendezvous point and headed back.

And found the elusive third can off to our left a few paces down the trail. We must have walked by that stupid can a dozen times looking for it!

By this time it was mid-afternoon, hot, and the kids were whining about how they wanted to go swimming. However, we had the Stream Study to do, so we loaded them up in the van, and drove to a nearby stream where our guide handed us all nets and we began to look at the species of organisms that lived in this stream.

This meant taking off our shoes and socks, rolling up those pant legs, and wading into the stream. Some of the kids (and teachers, thank goodness) actually remembered to pack extra shoes that could get wet for this very reason. I'm glad I brought my shoes because the streambed was really rocky and I'm not exactly good at walking across sharp rocks.

The stream area itself was lovely with trees bending overhead with new growth on them, although many suffered horribly in our late hard frost of a few weeks ago. There were ferns and moss along the banks, and wildflowers scattered around. Pretty soon the kids were busy splashing in the water, finding crawdads and fish in their nets. It didn't take them long to get soaking wet, and they all looked like bedraggled refugees from a disaster film. They had an absolute blast, however, and were such great little scientists. We spent well over an hour working our way up and down the stream, and we had a fantastic time. Kids who hadn't really been friends before the trip were now bent over a net checking out the crawdads, rocks and plant life they'd caught.

I was certain that they'd be beat by the time we returned to camp, but they weren't. In the hour to kill before supper they went out and played basketball, picked up rocks by the lake, and tossed a football around.

After supper, as soon as it got dark, we had a campfire for them and made s'mores. They decided to cap off the evening by a game of night tag where they ran around in the semi-dark (there were parking lot lights nearby) and chased each other silly.

But they weren't worn out yet.

Some of the girls wanted me to tell them ghost stories, and we ended up (I don't remember how) in a seating area in the conference center. I've collected ghost books and ghost stories for years and even do a ghost talk on Civil War ghosts for Civil War roundtables, so I was able to pull out a lot of these stories from my memory. I started with four girls, and pretty soon I looked up and nearly all the kids were there.

Listening.

Quietly.

Intently.

I'd stop a story and they'd yell, "tell another one!" and I'd remember another one to tell them. Of course, seeing as how most of them were Civil War ghost stories I had to throw in a history lesson as well, so they may have actually learned something. I finally ran out of stories, it was late, and we all wandered back to the dorms to go to bed.

The boys were dragging their feet and were asleep within minutes.

The girls, darn them, had hit a second wind and we didn't get them settled down until nearly midnight.

One more day to go...Boo!

Of Algae, S'mores, Sunburns, and Screaming 7th Graders Part III

One of the things we had scheduled for the first night was a night hike, guided by two of the rangers. Some of the kids, those who were pretty much city-bred, were not wild about the idea of taking a hike, in the dark, without flashlights.

They also were having a heard time being really, really quiet.

The idea was to help them learn about how animals survive in the night. We didn't use flashlights so that they could let their eyes adjust and acquire their night vision. We whispered and listened quietly to the sounds of the forest in the night. We had them use their sense of smell to see if they could identify objects the ranger handed them.

We split the groups into boys and girls and Mrs. Language and I went with the boys who were a bit wound up. We found out later that they'd located a soda machine and were sneaking pops and energy drinks until we put a fake "out of order" sign on it.

Pretty soon, however, they were surprised at how much they could see and at how bright the moon was and how many stars there were. Our guide took us to a clearing and we played a tag game, in the dark, with one kid as the owl and the others as mice. The owl was blindfolded and the mice had to be as quiet as possible and sneak by the owl. This worked pretty well until some of the mice decided that throwing a water bottle at the owl would distract him and they could sneak by. The owl, fortunately, was fairly good natured even when the water bottle bonked him in the head.

The high point of the hike for them was getting to chew Wintergreen Lifesavers in the dark and watching them spark in each other's mouths. Talk about cool!

After we returned to the camp, we gave them a snack and tried to get them quieted down for bed. It was past ten, they'd been up, most of them, since six, and we were hoping to get them settled down and to sleep. After all, the grown ups were pretty tired as well.

The girls settled down fairly quickly (amazing) but the boys were another story.

They paid for it the following day however. Unbeknown to them, Coach had brought his megaphone. Morning was going to come very early for them.