These are in no way ordered or connected.
Sometimes, it's really, really, REALLY fucking frustrating being a teacher. Very few people respect us, we get very little feedback as to what we did for the year with the students actually made a difference, and well, we make shit for pay...and that's how I feel on a good day.
I always think it's cool when someone local is on a national program. Woody Paige is always on "Around the Horn" on ESPN and I feel a sense of pride that someone from Colorado was good enough to be on there. Also, I think I know enough about sports that I could be on ESPN...never mind the fact that I'm not nearly pretty enough and I'm most definitely not young enough.
Why is it easier for me to drink water out of a Camelbak than a regular cup or water bottle?
I'm very sad because FedEx was supposed to deliver my new phone to school...and I'm not there! Darn you for canceling school!!!
Although I always said that I would be a die-hard "real book" person until I die, I have to admit, I love reading ebooks on my iPad. It's way easier to read at night, so my booklight isn't blinding Babe all the time and well, it's pretty frelling cool.
Do you think the "official training bike of the Tour de France" is as awesome as it looks on the commercial? Is anything?
Wednesday, November 2, 2011
Saturday, October 8, 2011
Some of my FavOrIte Things...
Call it a wooby (heh, remember Mr. Mom?) a blankie, a binky, a woo-woo...whatever. A kid's relationship with their blanket is a very special thing. For me, it was a simple green blanket. (And everyone wonders where my obsession with the color came from...) My parents tell me that I would run the edges of it through my fingers overandover until I found "my suckin' spot". Then I would simultaneously suck my thumb, rub the spot on the blanket, and twirl my hair. (I have no idea how I did all three at the same time.) The blanket still bears evidence of numerous repairs.
For my brother, it was a couple of things--a small blue elephant and a big bunny rabbit. He wore that poor bunny rabbit out--to the point where the only thing he had left was a "cheek" of it that he would hold by his cheek when he sucked his fingers at night.
By the time sister came around, blankets and stuffed animals were no longer the wooby de rigueur...Fisher Price started making these mini-blankets with bunny heads on top. I do believe these were the early versions of the "blankie bears" (as Boo calls them) that are so popular today-you know, the fleecy, satiny squares of fabric with some stuffed animal head in the middle? My sister loved hers...
Which brings me to my kids. They were gifted with a million blankets, blankie-bears, and stuffed animals, and it's been interesting to see what they gravitated towards.
For Boo, it's a green Winnie-the-Pooh blanket...it's really soft on one side, satin on the other, and it has the Classic Pooh embroidered on the bottom. It was a random shower gift that I received, and while he does love some of the blankie-bears he has...he *still* returns to the blanket.
In Bay's case, she has blankie-bears that I got as presents, one that Boo picked out for her when I was pregnant with her, and a mini-blanket that I got as a gift that I thought for sure would be her "thing". Nope. Her blankies are the two, thick, satin-edged blankets that my mom and I picked up at Babies R Us a couple weeks before she was born...it was a total random buy.
We were in there getting a couple of things for Smidge's room (as we called her then) and we walked by the blankets. I'd noticed them before, and loved how thick and soft they were, so my mom grabbed a burgundy one, and I grabbed a lilac one and figured they'd be good to cover her while she was in her car seat, at least.
Without a doubt, it was the best purchase out of all of my pre-baby shopping sprees. To this day, she must have *both* blankets when she takes a nap or goes to bed. She has a preference for her burgundy one (but she calls it "pink") and will cover herself with it and snuggle the purple one.
Like I said, it just got me thinking...what about these particular blankets made them the one? What about the green Pooh blanket made it Boo's favorite? For that matter, why was my brother obsessed with the filthy, smelly, dismembered cheek of a giant stuffed rabbit that he got for Easter one year? (Sorry, Shawnski...I had to put that in there!) What makes something as simple as a blanket become a wooby, a woo-woo, or even a "blankie"?
I'm not sure, but I do know that there is hell to pay in our house if we can't find them.
For my brother, it was a couple of things--a small blue elephant and a big bunny rabbit. He wore that poor bunny rabbit out--to the point where the only thing he had left was a "cheek" of it that he would hold by his cheek when he sucked his fingers at night.
By the time sister came around, blankets and stuffed animals were no longer the wooby de rigueur...Fisher Price started making these mini-blankets with bunny heads on top. I do believe these were the early versions of the "blankie bears" (as Boo calls them) that are so popular today-you know, the fleecy, satiny squares of fabric with some stuffed animal head in the middle? My sister loved hers...
Which brings me to my kids. They were gifted with a million blankets, blankie-bears, and stuffed animals, and it's been interesting to see what they gravitated towards.
For Boo, it's a green Winnie-the-Pooh blanket...it's really soft on one side, satin on the other, and it has the Classic Pooh embroidered on the bottom. It was a random shower gift that I received, and while he does love some of the blankie-bears he has...he *still* returns to the blanket.
In Bay's case, she has blankie-bears that I got as presents, one that Boo picked out for her when I was pregnant with her, and a mini-blanket that I got as a gift that I thought for sure would be her "thing". Nope. Her blankies are the two, thick, satin-edged blankets that my mom and I picked up at Babies R Us a couple weeks before she was born...it was a total random buy.
We were in there getting a couple of things for Smidge's room (as we called her then) and we walked by the blankets. I'd noticed them before, and loved how thick and soft they were, so my mom grabbed a burgundy one, and I grabbed a lilac one and figured they'd be good to cover her while she was in her car seat, at least.
Without a doubt, it was the best purchase out of all of my pre-baby shopping sprees. To this day, she must have *both* blankets when she takes a nap or goes to bed. She has a preference for her burgundy one (but she calls it "pink") and will cover herself with it and snuggle the purple one.
Like I said, it just got me thinking...what about these particular blankets made them the one? What about the green Pooh blanket made it Boo's favorite? For that matter, why was my brother obsessed with the filthy, smelly, dismembered cheek of a giant stuffed rabbit that he got for Easter one year? (Sorry, Shawnski...I had to put that in there!) What makes something as simple as a blanket become a wooby, a woo-woo, or even a "blankie"?
I'm not sure, but I do know that there is hell to pay in our house if we can't find them.
Saturday, October 1, 2011
Getting All Zen and Shit
Despite my crazy-ass schedule I'm trying to get some regular exercise in. I find that I'm a much more pleasant bitch to be around if I: A.) don't weigh a schmillion pounds B.) work some stress out. (Heh...ass schedule.)
I only logged 22 minutes of yoga the other day (89 calories, holla!) and was getting so fucking frustrated because I just couldn't get into it. My mind? Racing. Papers to grade, emails to respond to, grad school stuff to read, grades to enter, my desk is a disaster, I haven't seen my kids in two weeks (I have, but it's neither quanity nor quality), I think I'm fighting something and I feel like crap, and I'm TIRED.
So, I stopped. I was angry about it. Disappointed in myself that I couldn't even get through a 45 minute yoga practice. My self-talk sounded something like, "Why the hell are you so unorganized that you can't get all your shit done in a timely fashion? Why are you SO FUCKING LAZY?" I know, I know, I'm not very nice to myself sometimes.
One of my lovely friends mentioned that every bit of movement, every bit of stretching counts...
It also reminded me of something the lovely and bendy Katherine Budig said in one of her classes that I took via YogaGlo.com: "Be thankful for that fact that you are here today, doing yoga. It doesn't matter that the pose isn't "perfect", it's perfect because that's where your body wants to be, so for today, that is perfection." (I totally paraphrased here, but that's the gist of it.)
So, while my body may be gaining some weight from time to time, and I may limp a bit more, I may not heal as quickly, and I may be too unorganized in my brain to focus long enough to barely hold a decent Adho Mukha Svanasana...let alone a decent Bakasana...the fact that I'm there counts for something.
It's something I really should be thankful for, every, single, damn day. So nana-nana-boo-boo to you, stupid self.
I only logged 22 minutes of yoga the other day (89 calories, holla!) and was getting so fucking frustrated because I just couldn't get into it. My mind? Racing. Papers to grade, emails to respond to, grad school stuff to read, grades to enter, my desk is a disaster, I haven't seen my kids in two weeks (I have, but it's neither quanity nor quality), I think I'm fighting something and I feel like crap, and I'm TIRED.
So, I stopped. I was angry about it. Disappointed in myself that I couldn't even get through a 45 minute yoga practice. My self-talk sounded something like, "Why the hell are you so unorganized that you can't get all your shit done in a timely fashion? Why are you SO FUCKING LAZY?" I know, I know, I'm not very nice to myself sometimes.
One of my lovely friends mentioned that every bit of movement, every bit of stretching counts...
It also reminded me of something the lovely and bendy Katherine Budig said in one of her classes that I took via YogaGlo.com: "Be thankful for that fact that you are here today, doing yoga. It doesn't matter that the pose isn't "perfect", it's perfect because that's where your body wants to be, so for today, that is perfection." (I totally paraphrased here, but that's the gist of it.)
So, while my body may be gaining some weight from time to time, and I may limp a bit more, I may not heal as quickly, and I may be too unorganized in my brain to focus long enough to barely hold a decent Adho Mukha Svanasana...let alone a decent Bakasana...the fact that I'm there counts for something.
It's something I really should be thankful for, every, single, damn day. So nana-nana-boo-boo to you, stupid self.
Sunday, September 18, 2011
Mom Always Liked You Better!
The Smothers Brothers...I was too young to watch them, but I do remember their tag line. In this case, I'm not talking about my own siblings, but my own little darlings.
I've heard parents of 2 or more kids talking about how from time to time, they like one of their children better...that they prefer the company of one of their children over the other one. Notice I didn't say, and never said that they LOVE one of their kids more--lest you think I'm some monster. I never thought it would happen to me. Not me! I love both of my children the same! They are both delicate and unique snowflakes that bring joy and light to my world.
Eh. Wrong.
Right now, I am having a really hard time being around Bay. She is still the funny, goofy, adorable, smart little girl that I love with every fiber of my being...but ZOMFSM, she is a challenge. She's headstrong and she's definitely hit her "threes". She needs to do everything herself, gets ragingly pissed-off when she can't do whatever it is that she's doing immediately, but then won't let me help her. However, if Babe attempts to step in and take over, she freaks the fuck out about that. Her tantrums are of epic proportions--we're talking throwing herself down, screaming at the top of her lungs, kicking, punching, biting-type tantrums. And, for the last couple weeks, she's been insisting that she sleep with her light on, which is fine, I guess, but I don't think she's sleeping all that well and the other night, she was up 5 times between midnight and 5, one of the times she asked for a fricking waffle. <insert WTF face>
Of course, I'm busy, and stressed, so I'm handling her behavior, um...not so well. I get pissed because she's being cranky and frankly, I don't want to deal with her.
Which, of course, leads me to my whole point. Boo? He's been frelling awesome lately--he started Kindergarten, which he adores, he's stopped freaking out when he gets in trouble, he doesn't fight (much) about homework, he even woke himself up last week and got himself completely dressed. It's like, "Who the hell is this kid?" So, of course I find myself enjoying hanging out with Boo...he can tell me what's bothering him, rather than dissolving into a pile of tears and shrieks; he is, for the most part, rational; he doesn't feel the need to argue with me every time I say something. It's just more pleasant.
What, you may be asking, is the whole point of this? Not sure. To assure others in the same boat that they're not alone? To seek reassurance that I'm not a horrible mother because I feel this way? Probably yes on both counts.
I just have to keep telling myself that we'll move past this stage, and about the same time Bay is over the threes, Boo will be hitting 7 and 8, in which he'll probably want nothing to do with his mom, and their roles will be reversed.
Which, of course, will be a completely different post.
I've heard parents of 2 or more kids talking about how from time to time, they like one of their children better...that they prefer the company of one of their children over the other one. Notice I didn't say, and never said that they LOVE one of their kids more--lest you think I'm some monster. I never thought it would happen to me. Not me! I love both of my children the same! They are both delicate and unique snowflakes that bring joy and light to my world.
Eh. Wrong.
Right now, I am having a really hard time being around Bay. She is still the funny, goofy, adorable, smart little girl that I love with every fiber of my being...but ZOMFSM, she is a challenge. She's headstrong and she's definitely hit her "threes". She needs to do everything herself, gets ragingly pissed-off when she can't do whatever it is that she's doing immediately, but then won't let me help her. However, if Babe attempts to step in and take over, she freaks the fuck out about that. Her tantrums are of epic proportions--we're talking throwing herself down, screaming at the top of her lungs, kicking, punching, biting-type tantrums. And, for the last couple weeks, she's been insisting that she sleep with her light on, which is fine, I guess, but I don't think she's sleeping all that well and the other night, she was up 5 times between midnight and 5, one of the times she asked for a fricking waffle. <insert WTF face>
Of course, I'm busy, and stressed, so I'm handling her behavior, um...not so well. I get pissed because she's being cranky and frankly, I don't want to deal with her.
Which, of course, leads me to my whole point. Boo? He's been frelling awesome lately--he started Kindergarten, which he adores, he's stopped freaking out when he gets in trouble, he doesn't fight (much) about homework, he even woke himself up last week and got himself completely dressed. It's like, "Who the hell is this kid?" So, of course I find myself enjoying hanging out with Boo...he can tell me what's bothering him, rather than dissolving into a pile of tears and shrieks; he is, for the most part, rational; he doesn't feel the need to argue with me every time I say something. It's just more pleasant.
What, you may be asking, is the whole point of this? Not sure. To assure others in the same boat that they're not alone? To seek reassurance that I'm not a horrible mother because I feel this way? Probably yes on both counts.
I just have to keep telling myself that we'll move past this stage, and about the same time Bay is over the threes, Boo will be hitting 7 and 8, in which he'll probably want nothing to do with his mom, and their roles will be reversed.
Which, of course, will be a completely different post.
Tuesday, September 6, 2011
Grrrl Power, What?
The few times in my young-adult life I actually imagined that I'd have kids (you know, when I wasn't spouting, "I take care of other people's kids all damn day, why would I want/need my own?") I figured I'd have a girl.
Being the former grungy, mosh pit-crashing, pierced, tatooed, Liz Phair/Alanis Morissette/Insert Other Angry Female Band and/or Singer-Songwriter Here-listening, knocking people over on the soccer field-playing chick that I am, I figure I'd teach my daughter all about "Girl Power". Not this "Spoil me and buy me things because I'm a spoiled bitch and I deserve it," crap that the media is spouting as acceptable behavior these days, but the "I'm Courtney Love and while I'm drugged to the gills and I'm not wearing any underwear, I'm still gonna wail on this guitar and blow your mind and if you don't like it, fuck you!" kind of way.
So, I grow up (I guess...) have a girl, and while she does keep up with the boys in terms of wreaking havoc on the neighborhood...
She. Loves. Pink.
And princesses, and ballerinas, and Barbie. FUCKING BARBIE!!! I think I owned one Barbie growing up and I most likely cut her hair and colored it with markers.
What the heck do I do with a little girl like this? Granted, I've gotten a bit more girly as I've gotten older--gone are the days of me wearing jeans and a t-shirt and calling it good. However, I'm still not the frilly, lacy, princessy mom that knows what to do with my little girl when she tells me that she wants to be a princess when she grows up.
Of course, this is still the girl that smacked the crap out of Boo this weekend with a wooden sword, and more often than not, she's picking up a random stick-shaped object, waves it around and tells me that she's "fighting bad guys". So, I guess I allow the pink-tinted dreams and hope that when she beats the crap out of some guy for pissing her off, she doesn't dent her tiara too badly.
Being the former grungy, mosh pit-crashing, pierced, tatooed, Liz Phair/Alanis Morissette/Insert Other Angry Female Band and/or Singer-Songwriter Here-listening, knocking people over on the soccer field-playing chick that I am, I figure I'd teach my daughter all about "Girl Power". Not this "Spoil me and buy me things because I'm a spoiled bitch and I deserve it," crap that the media is spouting as acceptable behavior these days, but the "I'm Courtney Love and while I'm drugged to the gills and I'm not wearing any underwear, I'm still gonna wail on this guitar and blow your mind and if you don't like it, fuck you!" kind of way.
So, I grow up (I guess...) have a girl, and while she does keep up with the boys in terms of wreaking havoc on the neighborhood...
She. Loves. Pink.
And princesses, and ballerinas, and Barbie. FUCKING BARBIE!!! I think I owned one Barbie growing up and I most likely cut her hair and colored it with markers.
What the heck do I do with a little girl like this? Granted, I've gotten a bit more girly as I've gotten older--gone are the days of me wearing jeans and a t-shirt and calling it good. However, I'm still not the frilly, lacy, princessy mom that knows what to do with my little girl when she tells me that she wants to be a princess when she grows up.
Of course, this is still the girl that smacked the crap out of Boo this weekend with a wooden sword, and more often than not, she's picking up a random stick-shaped object, waves it around and tells me that she's "fighting bad guys". So, I guess I allow the pink-tinted dreams and hope that when she beats the crap out of some guy for pissing her off, she doesn't dent her tiara too badly.
Wednesday, August 3, 2011
Feeding My Soul
Now, being the die-hard agnostic that I am, I'm not sure about the whole "we have a soul" thing, but I do know that there are things that I do that lift me up--kiss Babe, snuggle the kids, read a really, really, good book, and so on. On the flip side, there are definitely things that push me down--worrying about money, stress at work, blah, blah, blah...
It's no secret to those that know me that I definitely don't do a whole lot for myself. I mean, yeah, Babe and I take the kids to the grandparents' houses from time to time so we can go out of town for a quick trip or a night of getting crunk, but we're together when we do these things.
I don't do much for just me. (Neither does Babe...do stuff for himself, I mean. He does plenty for me!)
As I was unpacking my cabinets and boxes of crap that I tossed in there this past May in my mad dash to end the school year, I found this book that I bought a few years ago when I decided to teach "altered book making" for my *enrichment class.
The book was so inspiring and I couldn't wait to watch all these amazing pieces of art unfold...the students would rip, tear, cut, glue, and paint their little hearts out and they would be magically transformed by the wonders of art.
Um. Not so much. There were a couple of kids in the class that really embraced the concept, but for the most part, they wanted to hang out and talk with their friends while making a few half-hearted attempts at painting. Needless to say, I didn't teach that class again.
Anyway, I found the book and started flipping through it and I remembered why I bought it and why I was so excited to teach the class in the first place--it was something I wanted to do! The best part of my Master's program was that I got to create different kinds of art--I sang, I danced, I took pictures, I drew, I painted, and I wrote. Those two years were the most inspired my teaching had ever been...and I don't think I've been that motivated since.
My plan? Try to carve out some time for myself--yes, this is between planning, teaching, grading, parenting, cooking, cleaning, going to classes, studying, writing papers, exercising, and oh yeah, try to spend some quality time with Babe. But, I figure if I want it badly enough...and if it makes me a better me, then the time I take to create some art will be well worth it.
It's no secret to those that know me that I definitely don't do a whole lot for myself. I mean, yeah, Babe and I take the kids to the grandparents' houses from time to time so we can go out of town for a quick trip or a night of getting crunk, but we're together when we do these things.
I don't do much for just me. (Neither does Babe...do stuff for himself, I mean. He does plenty for me!)
As I was unpacking my cabinets and boxes of crap that I tossed in there this past May in my mad dash to end the school year, I found this book that I bought a few years ago when I decided to teach "altered book making" for my *enrichment class.
The book was so inspiring and I couldn't wait to watch all these amazing pieces of art unfold...the students would rip, tear, cut, glue, and paint their little hearts out and they would be magically transformed by the wonders of art.
Um. Not so much. There were a couple of kids in the class that really embraced the concept, but for the most part, they wanted to hang out and talk with their friends while making a few half-hearted attempts at painting. Needless to say, I didn't teach that class again.
Anyway, I found the book and started flipping through it and I remembered why I bought it and why I was so excited to teach the class in the first place--it was something I wanted to do! The best part of my Master's program was that I got to create different kinds of art--I sang, I danced, I took pictures, I drew, I painted, and I wrote. Those two years were the most inspired my teaching had ever been...and I don't think I've been that motivated since.
My plan? Try to carve out some time for myself--yes, this is between planning, teaching, grading, parenting, cooking, cleaning, going to classes, studying, writing papers, exercising, and oh yeah, try to spend some quality time with Babe. But, I figure if I want it badly enough...and if it makes me a better me, then the time I take to create some art will be well worth it.
Sunday, July 31, 2011
It's the End of the World As We Know It...
I love it when t.v. shows use the same gimmick when they're naming their episodes...like Friends using "The one with the..." or The Mentalist using a shade of red somewhere in the title, as a shout-out to the uber-villain "Red John". There's a show (or two or three...I'm not sure) that uses song titles--Grey's Anatomy perhaps? (I quit watching that depression-fest a couple of seasons ago.)
Although I'm not using a tool such as the "reoccurring themed title" for my posts, if I were...well, this R.E.M. opus would have been at the top of my list to use. I have an idea for another post entitled "Losing My Religion" which has totally different connotations for me than you might think. Man, I really loved R.E.M. in high school and college...they lost me there for a bit, as did U2. While I think Bono is a great guy and and get hot for The Edge, I just can't get into their music the way I used to.
I digress.
You're shocked. I know.
So, the whole part of this post is to lament the end of my summer break. But, once I start thinking about it...I'm actually excited to go back, just like I am every year. (Why yes, I am a glutton for punishment.)
Summer, for me, isn't really a break. I spend the majority of my time doing...well...shit that I needed to do all school year long, but I didn't have the time for. Like what, you ask? Um. Like laundry. Cleaning the house. Cleaning out the closets. Giving crap to the Goodwill. Getting rid of size NB diapers (Bay is TWO!). Potty training Bay. Teaching Boo how to ride a bike (okay, I totally give that one to Babe...he did it, not me.) Blah, blah, blah, I'm doing those things that other people seem to find the time for in the normal course of their lives.
I don't know why I can't get stuff done during the school year, but I can't. I do know that Babe and I are both famous for burning the candle at both ends, so I'm sure that has something to do with it. I also know that if I'm faced with the choice of spending time with the kids at the pool or grading papers--well, the papers will lose. Every. Single. Time.
I'm also excited about the beginning of a new school year. It's time to meet new families, new kids, try new things in my classroom...but really, I'm just excited that I have an excuse to leave the piles of laundry in the laundry room for days on end.
Although I'm not using a tool such as the "reoccurring themed title" for my posts, if I were...well, this R.E.M. opus would have been at the top of my list to use. I have an idea for another post entitled "Losing My Religion" which has totally different connotations for me than you might think. Man, I really loved R.E.M. in high school and college...they lost me there for a bit, as did U2. While I think Bono is a great guy and and get hot for The Edge, I just can't get into their music the way I used to.
I digress.
You're shocked. I know.
So, the whole part of this post is to lament the end of my summer break. But, once I start thinking about it...I'm actually excited to go back, just like I am every year. (Why yes, I am a glutton for punishment.)
Summer, for me, isn't really a break. I spend the majority of my time doing...well...shit that I needed to do all school year long, but I didn't have the time for. Like what, you ask? Um. Like laundry. Cleaning the house. Cleaning out the closets. Giving crap to the Goodwill. Getting rid of size NB diapers (Bay is TWO!). Potty training Bay. Teaching Boo how to ride a bike (okay, I totally give that one to Babe...he did it, not me.) Blah, blah, blah, I'm doing those things that other people seem to find the time for in the normal course of their lives.
I don't know why I can't get stuff done during the school year, but I can't. I do know that Babe and I are both famous for burning the candle at both ends, so I'm sure that has something to do with it. I also know that if I'm faced with the choice of spending time with the kids at the pool or grading papers--well, the papers will lose. Every. Single. Time.
I'm also excited about the beginning of a new school year. It's time to meet new families, new kids, try new things in my classroom...but really, I'm just excited that I have an excuse to leave the piles of laundry in the laundry room for days on end.
Thursday, July 21, 2011
How Am I Supposed to Live Without You?
I try to not do blog posts that piggyback on each other...I like to believe myself to be delightfully random and quirky. However, I just can't NOT write this one.
My mother-fucking knee is seriously jacked up. Like, seriously. I went into my surgery last week with cartilage, albeit gnarly cartilage, in my knee and I came out with it all sucked out. Turns out I dislocated my kneecap last February and it sheared all of it off, hence all the crunchy sounds when I walked. Oh, I had a small meniscus tear too, but that was secondary to the other crap.
So, my doc fixed the tear, took all the shit that was floating around my knee out, and stitched me up, and promised my husband that he and I (the doc...) would have spend some quality-time together in a month or so.
Side note: My knee-guy? Hot. Really, really hot. Anyone watch Bones? He looks like a skinnier "Wendell". Pair that with the fact that he's smart and athletic. H.O.T.
So, while he said that my knee was "better" it wasn't "fixed" and "walking up and down stairs, as well as down inclines would be really, really painful." Um. My classroom is on the second floor of the building. Yeah, something tells me I'm going to want to fix it sooner rather than later.
My surgery will resurface my knee with plastic and metal and I should be better. Yay. I'll post info when I get it.
However, everyone keeps telling me that I need to give soccer up. It sucks because despite the fact that The Beautiful Game and I have had a very spotty and tumultuous relationship the past few years--having kids and fucking up an ankle that requires 4 surgeries will do that--however, I was getting back into it, then THE KNEE happened.
I do other sports. I swim. I bike. I do yoga. I play volleyball. I enjoy all of those things, but nothing compares to the feeling I get from kicking someone's ass on the field.
How am I going to move past it? I was able to get through my (long) absences from the sport because the possibility of coming back was always there, but that door might be irrevocably closed. What do I do? I've known A TON of people that have had to quit completely, and they do so and never look back...I just never thought I'd be one of them.
Am I still me if I no longer play?
My mother-fucking knee is seriously jacked up. Like, seriously. I went into my surgery last week with cartilage, albeit gnarly cartilage, in my knee and I came out with it all sucked out. Turns out I dislocated my kneecap last February and it sheared all of it off, hence all the crunchy sounds when I walked. Oh, I had a small meniscus tear too, but that was secondary to the other crap.
So, my doc fixed the tear, took all the shit that was floating around my knee out, and stitched me up, and promised my husband that he and I (the doc...) would have spend some quality-time together in a month or so.
Side note: My knee-guy? Hot. Really, really hot. Anyone watch Bones? He looks like a skinnier "Wendell". Pair that with the fact that he's smart and athletic. H.O.T.
So, while he said that my knee was "better" it wasn't "fixed" and "walking up and down stairs, as well as down inclines would be really, really painful." Um. My classroom is on the second floor of the building. Yeah, something tells me I'm going to want to fix it sooner rather than later.
My surgery will resurface my knee with plastic and metal and I should be better. Yay. I'll post info when I get it.
However, everyone keeps telling me that I need to give soccer up. It sucks because despite the fact that The Beautiful Game and I have had a very spotty and tumultuous relationship the past few years--having kids and fucking up an ankle that requires 4 surgeries will do that--however, I was getting back into it, then THE KNEE happened.
I do other sports. I swim. I bike. I do yoga. I play volleyball. I enjoy all of those things, but nothing compares to the feeling I get from kicking someone's ass on the field.
How am I going to move past it? I was able to get through my (long) absences from the sport because the possibility of coming back was always there, but that door might be irrevocably closed. What do I do? I've known A TON of people that have had to quit completely, and they do so and never look back...I just never thought I'd be one of them.
Am I still me if I no longer play?
Wednesday, July 13, 2011
Dearest Soccer...
I miss you.
I really, really do. Watching the Women's World Cup does nothing but pour salt in the open wound that is my fucked up knee and the impending surgery. (Which is this coming Friday...I'm a bit skeered...what if it's more that just "gnarly stuff" like the doc thinks?)
I talk about you with Babe. I coached you for Boo. I am still friends with all of your devotees on Facebook. But, sometimes it's just too hard.
I miss knocking some guy over because he thinks that he's "the man"...and there's no way he could get beat by "just a girl". I miss the team camradarie...post-game beers and talking shit about the other team. I miss the feeling of making a huge cross, from back to front field...feeling the power that my legs could bring.
I have to admit, I've been cheating on you a bit. At first it was with Turbo Fire. It was something that I could do at school and at most, it only took an hour. Then, after the knee debacle, I re-discovered mountain biking and swimming. While they give me some satisfaction, it's not like the rough-and-tumble, sweat-drenched loving you would give me several days a week.
But.
<sigh>
You're no good for me...at least right now. You need to remember that I've put my body through hell for you, and I need to do what I can to get healthy so perhaps...someday...we can be together again.
Much love and devotion,
Me
I really, really do. Watching the Women's World Cup does nothing but pour salt in the open wound that is my fucked up knee and the impending surgery. (Which is this coming Friday...I'm a bit skeered...what if it's more that just "gnarly stuff" like the doc thinks?)
I talk about you with Babe. I coached you for Boo. I am still friends with all of your devotees on Facebook. But, sometimes it's just too hard.
I miss knocking some guy over because he thinks that he's "the man"...and there's no way he could get beat by "just a girl". I miss the team camradarie...post-game beers and talking shit about the other team. I miss the feeling of making a huge cross, from back to front field...feeling the power that my legs could bring.
I have to admit, I've been cheating on you a bit. At first it was with Turbo Fire. It was something that I could do at school and at most, it only took an hour. Then, after the knee debacle, I re-discovered mountain biking and swimming. While they give me some satisfaction, it's not like the rough-and-tumble, sweat-drenched loving you would give me several days a week.
But.
<sigh>
You're no good for me...at least right now. You need to remember that I've put my body through hell for you, and I need to do what I can to get healthy so perhaps...someday...we can be together again.
Much love and devotion,
Me
Monday, May 9, 2011
10 Things: That Oog Me Out
Hey, a shout out to my 2 new followers. (I don't know who you are yet, since I haven't looked.) Sorry I've been slacking on the blog...spring is a busy-ass time of year, don'tcha know. On with the list...
1. Having the window open at night when it's windy outside. I have the weirdest dreams and I feel like I can't breathe properly. Also, the tree outside the bedroom window rustles all night and it bugs the shit out of me.
2. Movies/TV shows that have someone see someone else (usually something scary) in the mirror behind them. Ack!!!
3. Extreme body modification. Don't get me wrong...I have some tats and some piercings...and if I worked in a different field, I'd probably have more, but the full-face tattoos or the dinner-plate sized ear stretching seems crazy to me. I also think to myself, "What do you do for money???"
4. Hairy spiders. Little spiders don't bother me. Big spiders don't bother me. But spiders...WITH HAIR? *shudder*
5. Seeing horrible injuries during a sports game. With my awesome history of ankle injuries, watching the slow-mo replay of some dude twisting his ankle makes me want to vomit.
6. Reality shows. Don't get we wrong. I watch Jersey Shore. I even enjoy it--okay, I enjoy watching them make fools out of themselves, but they make more money in a red-carpet appearance than I will 10 years of working, so I suppose I'm the fool. However, watching the TeenMomHordersCelebrityRehab debacle just makes me sad. Are these peoples' live any better after being in the "spotlight"? Probably not.
7. Little kids in beauty pageants. Do I really need to explain?
8. Sushi (or, Sashimi, rather...) I know that I *should* like it...all the cool kids do, after all, but I just can't get over the fact that I'm eating raw fish. Blech.
9. The smell of raw chicken. Ugh. I'm also not a fan of cutting it when it's thawed...too slippery.
10. Close talkers. It's like, "Yo, find your space!"
So, if you don't want to see me get all freaked out, avoid the above.
1. Having the window open at night when it's windy outside. I have the weirdest dreams and I feel like I can't breathe properly. Also, the tree outside the bedroom window rustles all night and it bugs the shit out of me.
2. Movies/TV shows that have someone see someone else (usually something scary) in the mirror behind them. Ack!!!
3. Extreme body modification. Don't get me wrong...I have some tats and some piercings...and if I worked in a different field, I'd probably have more, but the full-face tattoos or the dinner-plate sized ear stretching seems crazy to me. I also think to myself, "What do you do for money???"
4. Hairy spiders. Little spiders don't bother me. Big spiders don't bother me. But spiders...WITH HAIR? *shudder*
5. Seeing horrible injuries during a sports game. With my awesome history of ankle injuries, watching the slow-mo replay of some dude twisting his ankle makes me want to vomit.
6. Reality shows. Don't get we wrong. I watch Jersey Shore. I even enjoy it--okay, I enjoy watching them make fools out of themselves, but they make more money in a red-carpet appearance than I will 10 years of working, so I suppose I'm the fool. However, watching the TeenMomHordersCelebrityRehab debacle just makes me sad. Are these peoples' live any better after being in the "spotlight"? Probably not.
7. Little kids in beauty pageants. Do I really need to explain?
8. Sushi (or, Sashimi, rather...) I know that I *should* like it...all the cool kids do, after all, but I just can't get over the fact that I'm eating raw fish. Blech.
9. The smell of raw chicken. Ugh. I'm also not a fan of cutting it when it's thawed...too slippery.
10. Close talkers. It's like, "Yo, find your space!"
So, if you don't want to see me get all freaked out, avoid the above.
Tuesday, April 26, 2011
Not My Kid!!
Remember those after-school (or "family viewing time") specials that they showed in the late-80's? They dealt with sex...drugs...most likely some rock-n-roll. Anyway, one was called, "Not My Kid!" and it focused on a kid that was in the wrong crowd, but her parents didn't want to believe it, hence the name.
This became a HUGE joke in my family...one of the sibs or I would do something and everyone else would shout, "Not my kid!" Huh, I wonder if the Bro, Sis, and Parental Units remember this...
I've found myself wanting to say this, nay, SHOUT this at the top of my lungs these days. Where you ask?
Soccer practice.
I'm coaching Boo's U5 team, so all the boys are already 5 or just turning 5 and Boo, FSM love him, is...um...not the best player on the team. After watching his dad, older sister, older brother, aunt, and me play countless games, one would think that he would pick up on some things. But, no. At our first practice, he kept trying to stop the ball with his hands. At the first game, he was the only kid to consistently go the wrong way. Granted, every player went the wrong way at least once, but Boo...every time he got the ball. At practice, he whines, cries if he trips, and moves at a snail's pace with the ball while the other boys are zooming around him like rockets shooting across the sky. As a self-proclaimed "jock" it's sometimes painful to watch, especially when he'll get mad or frustrated during a game and he runs over to me for a hug.
However, he is having fun. He almost got his first goal last week, on his birthday, and while he's not the fastest, toughest, or most skilled player on the team...he is the sweetest. He constantly has a smile on his face and when his teammates score, he gives them the biggest high-fives.
Going through this, I see what my dad must have gone through when he was coaching all three of us in our various sports...holy shit, it's a miracle he didn't kill us! It also reminds me that no matter how badly we want our kids to be "just like us" they are their own little people, and their strengths, as well as their weaknesses, are their own--and I'll love them fiercely and unconditionally regardless of what they do.
Unless one of them becomes a serial killer...I don't think I'd be cool with that.
This became a HUGE joke in my family...one of the sibs or I would do something and everyone else would shout, "Not my kid!" Huh, I wonder if the Bro, Sis, and Parental Units remember this...
I've found myself wanting to say this, nay, SHOUT this at the top of my lungs these days. Where you ask?
Soccer practice.
I'm coaching Boo's U5 team, so all the boys are already 5 or just turning 5 and Boo, FSM love him, is...um...not the best player on the team. After watching his dad, older sister, older brother, aunt, and me play countless games, one would think that he would pick up on some things. But, no. At our first practice, he kept trying to stop the ball with his hands. At the first game, he was the only kid to consistently go the wrong way. Granted, every player went the wrong way at least once, but Boo...every time he got the ball. At practice, he whines, cries if he trips, and moves at a snail's pace with the ball while the other boys are zooming around him like rockets shooting across the sky. As a self-proclaimed "jock" it's sometimes painful to watch, especially when he'll get mad or frustrated during a game and he runs over to me for a hug.
However, he is having fun. He almost got his first goal last week, on his birthday, and while he's not the fastest, toughest, or most skilled player on the team...he is the sweetest. He constantly has a smile on his face and when his teammates score, he gives them the biggest high-fives.
Going through this, I see what my dad must have gone through when he was coaching all three of us in our various sports...holy shit, it's a miracle he didn't kill us! It also reminds me that no matter how badly we want our kids to be "just like us" they are their own little people, and their strengths, as well as their weaknesses, are their own--and I'll love them fiercely and unconditionally regardless of what they do.
Unless one of them becomes a serial killer...I don't think I'd be cool with that.
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
It Shouldn't Bug...
But it does, damn it!!!!!
(I'm talking about the inability for people on the interwebz to use a fucking apostrophe appropriately.)
I joke with my students, every year, when we're covering the 3 different ways to use these little gems, that "Apostrophe Abuse" is my biggest pet peeve in.the.world. I even show them this site and they all laugh and laugh and laugh.
Then, I'm perusing various internet sites where people blog, post, tweet, update, etc. and the sheer and utter lack of knowledge about this particular punctuation mark bugs the ever-loving shit out of me!!!!!!11ZOMGELEVENTY!
I understand, it's the internet, and due to text-speak, the English language has been compressed, recycled, and pretty much mangled into something that vaguely resembles its original form. (And by "original" I mean the language that I use and love...I don't want any language nerds yelling at me.) I should just let it go. Hell, this is the second post I've made about this same topic...obviously I think about it a great deal. I teach this stuff, I should.
The internet--for all of its speed and information--allows for anonymity to facilitate stupidity...and that's just sad.
(I'm talking about the inability for people on the interwebz to use a fucking apostrophe appropriately.)
I joke with my students, every year, when we're covering the 3 different ways to use these little gems, that "Apostrophe Abuse" is my biggest pet peeve in.the.world. I even show them this site and they all laugh and laugh and laugh.
Then, I'm perusing various internet sites where people blog, post, tweet, update, etc. and the sheer and utter lack of knowledge about this particular punctuation mark bugs the ever-loving shit out of me!!!!!!11ZOMGELEVENTY!
I understand, it's the internet, and due to text-speak, the English language has been compressed, recycled, and pretty much mangled into something that vaguely resembles its original form. (And by "original" I mean the language that I use and love...I don't want any language nerds yelling at me.) I should just let it go. Hell, this is the second post I've made about this same topic...obviously I think about it a great deal. I teach this stuff, I should.
The internet--for all of its speed and information--allows for anonymity to facilitate stupidity...and that's just sad.
Tuesday, March 15, 2011
Just Another Manic Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday...
ZOMG, I hate getting up for work. Well, it's not the getting up part that bugs, it's the getupshowergetreadypacklunchgetkidsupoutthedoorredlightredlightdropkidsoffrushtoworkwaitinahugeasslineofcarsbecausethestudentsareincapableofridingthebusorwalking.
It makes my mornings a bit stressful.
I try to get up earlier, but it seems like the earlier I got to bed, the harder it is to wake up and going to bed late...well, it has the effect you would expect it to. I guess I'm just destined to rush around all morning and have chest pains whilst screaming at the asshat that is driving 5 miles per hour under the speed limit while I get ready to educate the masses.
^That^ or switch jobs. LOL.
It makes my mornings a bit stressful.
I try to get up earlier, but it seems like the earlier I got to bed, the harder it is to wake up and going to bed late...well, it has the effect you would expect it to. I guess I'm just destined to rush around all morning and have chest pains whilst screaming at the asshat that is driving 5 miles per hour under the speed limit while I get ready to educate the masses.
^That^ or switch jobs. LOL.
Sunday, March 13, 2011
The Unbearable...Something of Something..
I really thought that the post title would be a riff on "The Unbearable Lightness of Being" and I was going to talk about weight. But then I realized that it sounded lame, hence the vague title.
I used to "joke" (like in high school and college) that I could never have an eating disorder...I like food too much. Ha, right? But looking back, I've flirted with eating disorders, in minor forms, in various times in my life. I'm what I call a "stress starver". When I get REALLY stressed out, don't eat. Literally. I can go for days eating maybe 100-200 calories a day, if that. I don't feel hungry, I can still go about my "normal" routines (keeping in mind that during these times, I probably wasn't working out, playing soccer, or doing much of anything physical), and I sleep just fine.
In addition to all ^that^ my waist defines, my hip bones become prominent, my collarbone, always jutting out, becomes razor-sharp against my skin. I revel in the fact that I can feel my vertebrae through my t-shirts, and I feel... Light. Ethereal. Transcendent.
However, I look...not so great. My face becomes gaunt, my hair is dry, and my eyes, which I consider the best part of me, become lifeless.
When I met Babe, I was coming off of the divorce to my son's father. While Ex and I are friends now, the demise of my marriage wrecked me, and I was around 110...a "healthy" me is 130. After Babe and fell in love, moved in together, and became a family, I started putting the weight back on. The size 2's and 4's that I bought because my 6's and 8's were falling off of me quit fitting...and I was okay with it. I called it my "happy fat". I was happy, so I ate--that's a good thing, right?
I wasn't, however, working out (thanks soccer injury and subsequent 4 surgeries!) and then I got pregnant with the girl...I had a healthy pregnancy, only gained 20 pounds, and it was gone by my 6 week post-partum check up.
Crap, I've totally lost the point of this post. Lemme see if I can find it...
<pause while I check>
Okay, here it is. Prior to joining getting serious about getting healthy, I was weighing in at 140, I think my highest non-pregnancy weight ever. I'm 5'3", so I was looking a bit heavy. I have an "hourglass" figure and I'm built, from the waist down, like a brick shithouse--my legs are usually pretty muscular while I've got big boobs, but I'm small framed up top. (My 2 year old daughter and I have almost the same-circumfrenced wrists...)
Somewhere in there, I started playing soccer again, but was eating like crap. Then, I found the "My Fitness Pal" food/calorie tracker on my Droid Market, started tracking calories, then found the actual website. Since then, I've started doing Turbo Fire, yoga, eating better, and feeling good.
The downside? I'm starting to feel that ethereal feeling creep into my brain... As I walk to use the restroom that's down the hall from my classroom at school, I look into the HUGE mirror, and revel in the fact that over the course of the school year, my waist has gotten smaller and smaller. This morning, Bay pushed up my shirt (she likes to look at my tattoos there) and she kept saying "What dat?" while she poked my vertebrae. It's become a contest with myself to see how many days in a row I can stay below my calorie count.
I need to remind myself that food=fuel. I tried to do a 55 minute Turbo Fire workout the other day after not eating breakfast--I was hydrated, thanks to the 40 ounces of water I drank that morning--but I half-assed my way through the workout because I was light-headed. (I still burned over 400 calories, though...whoopee!)
I need to figure out a way to not go overboard with my desire to lose 10 (a mere 10!) pounds and remind myself that it's about getting stronger...not light enough to float away.
I used to "joke" (like in high school and college) that I could never have an eating disorder...I like food too much. Ha, right? But looking back, I've flirted with eating disorders, in minor forms, in various times in my life. I'm what I call a "stress starver". When I get REALLY stressed out, don't eat. Literally. I can go for days eating maybe 100-200 calories a day, if that. I don't feel hungry, I can still go about my "normal" routines (keeping in mind that during these times, I probably wasn't working out, playing soccer, or doing much of anything physical), and I sleep just fine.
In addition to all ^that^ my waist defines, my hip bones become prominent, my collarbone, always jutting out, becomes razor-sharp against my skin. I revel in the fact that I can feel my vertebrae through my t-shirts, and I feel... Light. Ethereal. Transcendent.
However, I look...not so great. My face becomes gaunt, my hair is dry, and my eyes, which I consider the best part of me, become lifeless.
When I met Babe, I was coming off of the divorce to my son's father. While Ex and I are friends now, the demise of my marriage wrecked me, and I was around 110...a "healthy" me is 130. After Babe and fell in love, moved in together, and became a family, I started putting the weight back on. The size 2's and 4's that I bought because my 6's and 8's were falling off of me quit fitting...and I was okay with it. I called it my "happy fat". I was happy, so I ate--that's a good thing, right?
I wasn't, however, working out (thanks soccer injury and subsequent 4 surgeries!) and then I got pregnant with the girl...I had a healthy pregnancy, only gained 20 pounds, and it was gone by my 6 week post-partum check up.
Crap, I've totally lost the point of this post. Lemme see if I can find it...
<pause while I check>
Okay, here it is. Prior to joining getting serious about getting healthy, I was weighing in at 140, I think my highest non-pregnancy weight ever. I'm 5'3", so I was looking a bit heavy. I have an "hourglass" figure and I'm built, from the waist down, like a brick shithouse--my legs are usually pretty muscular while I've got big boobs, but I'm small framed up top. (My 2 year old daughter and I have almost the same-circumfrenced wrists...)
Somewhere in there, I started playing soccer again, but was eating like crap. Then, I found the "My Fitness Pal" food/calorie tracker on my Droid Market, started tracking calories, then found the actual website. Since then, I've started doing Turbo Fire, yoga, eating better, and feeling good.
The downside? I'm starting to feel that ethereal feeling creep into my brain... As I walk to use the restroom that's down the hall from my classroom at school, I look into the HUGE mirror, and revel in the fact that over the course of the school year, my waist has gotten smaller and smaller. This morning, Bay pushed up my shirt (she likes to look at my tattoos there) and she kept saying "What dat?" while she poked my vertebrae. It's become a contest with myself to see how many days in a row I can stay below my calorie count.
I need to remind myself that food=fuel. I tried to do a 55 minute Turbo Fire workout the other day after not eating breakfast--I was hydrated, thanks to the 40 ounces of water I drank that morning--but I half-assed my way through the workout because I was light-headed. (I still burned over 400 calories, though...whoopee!)
I need to figure out a way to not go overboard with my desire to lose 10 (a mere 10!) pounds and remind myself that it's about getting stronger...not light enough to float away.
Friday, March 4, 2011
10 Things: I've Learned Lately
1. I would much rather plow through a Big Mac that eat all the ice cream, candy, or other sweet things that is world has to offer. I'm a savory/fat addict!
2. "Pincesses" eat "nunules" for "dinure" in their "hastle". (Or, "Princesses eat noodles for dinner in their castle," in Bay-speak.)
3. If you cut off a huge hunk of your thumb, it will grow back.
4. RelishRelish.com is the absolute bomb! (It's a great menu-planning site that does your grocery list and everything!!)
5. Boo is smart...but he's obstinate when it comes to homework. He always says he doesn't know the answer but I know he does. Oy, he's going to give me an ulcer!
6. Babe should be on talk radio...he's so frelling funny!
7. Steel-cut oatmeal is really, really good!
8. I *do* know how to serve a volleyball over the coed net...it jut took me a while to figure it out!
9. Three-card poker is one card game I can follow.
10. I have a truly amazing group of friends. (Okay, I've always known this, but I've recently been reminded.) <3
2. "Pincesses" eat "nunules" for "dinure" in their "hastle". (Or, "Princesses eat noodles for dinner in their castle," in Bay-speak.)
3. If you cut off a huge hunk of your thumb, it will grow back.
4. RelishRelish.com is the absolute bomb! (It's a great menu-planning site that does your grocery list and everything!!)
5. Boo is smart...but he's obstinate when it comes to homework. He always says he doesn't know the answer but I know he does. Oy, he's going to give me an ulcer!
6. Babe should be on talk radio...he's so frelling funny!
7. Steel-cut oatmeal is really, really good!
8. I *do* know how to serve a volleyball over the coed net...it jut took me a while to figure it out!
9. Three-card poker is one card game I can follow.
10. I have a truly amazing group of friends. (Okay, I've always known this, but I've recently been reminded.) <3
Monday, February 28, 2011
Pssst...I have a secret
I really don't think standardized testing is the devil.
There.
I said it.
Does it take away from instruction? Yeah. Does the possibility of ONE TEST being a huge determinant of my salary scare me? Yep.
However, these tests hold value. Really, they do. Imagine you're a teacher (and for some of my readers...that's not too hard to do!) and there you sit, a blank lesson plan book in front of you, you know that20 25 30 35 bright, shiny, new faces are going to be staring at you in a matter of days. After the preliminary "getting to know you" activities parents, and your administrators, expect you to actually start teaching. (I know...the nerve!) Where do you start? What are your goals? WHAT THE HELL DO I TEACH THESE KIDS?
Those evil, no-good, dirty, rotten tests actually give me a starting point. The bulk of my kids struggled with extended writing last year? Great! Guess what a focus of mine is going to be? Their grammar and conventions suck? I'll start pulling out the Michael Clay Thompson books.
Not only does looking at the data help drive my curricular planning, I look back at how my former class performed. Did they struggle with identifying theme in their writing test? Looks like I should hit it harder from now on, etc.
Granted, once kids get to the upper-elementary/middle school grades, a ton of their test scores really do depend on their attitude. There's a story of an 8th grader at my school that, while he had the ability to do well on one of his tests, he spent the majority of the testing sessions drawing sea life in the test book. I'm assuming he didn't score too well...and I would also gather that his teacher didn't look to his scores to help her figure out her areas of strength and weakness as a teacher.
There's also parents that don't put much stock into it, a friend of mine had a parent last year that said, "Well, all the kids know it doesn't really matter how THEY do...it's just a report card for the teachers."
^That^ statement scares me, but I'll save it for post some other day.
Does state testing foster "teaching to the test"? Well...yeah. But, the test reflects the state standards, which are reflected in my district standards, which are then reflected in my school expectations. What is wrong with that?????
I know the horror stories of teachers just doing "testing workbooks" all year long, but honestly...how many of you have really seen/experienced that? I know that my students will have to analyze some poetry, so I have them analyze some poetry throughout the year. I also know that my students will be required to respond to a persuasive, descriptive, or explanatory prompt...yeah, they've been sharpening their writing skills in those areas throughout the year.
Frankly, if you are doing your job, and teaching to the standards and grade-level appropriate curriculum..you ARE teaching to the test, and that's okay. I'm lucky to be in a school that allows a great deal of teacher-autonomy, so I can get my kids to write persuasively any way I want. I had them identify propaganda techniques, read persuasive writing, analyze persuasive writing, research an issue, and finally, write a persuasive essay about the issue. <----That, my friends is how AimCo " teaches to the test".
So, long story longer, I don't mind the period of testing. It gives me some data, I can get end of the quarter grading done, read some books, and organize my file cabinet...not a bad week, in my opinion.
There.
I said it.
Does it take away from instruction? Yeah. Does the possibility of ONE TEST being a huge determinant of my salary scare me? Yep.
However, these tests hold value. Really, they do. Imagine you're a teacher (and for some of my readers...that's not too hard to do!) and there you sit, a blank lesson plan book in front of you, you know that
Those evil, no-good, dirty, rotten tests actually give me a starting point. The bulk of my kids struggled with extended writing last year? Great! Guess what a focus of mine is going to be? Their grammar and conventions suck? I'll start pulling out the Michael Clay Thompson books.
Not only does looking at the data help drive my curricular planning, I look back at how my former class performed. Did they struggle with identifying theme in their writing test? Looks like I should hit it harder from now on, etc.
Granted, once kids get to the upper-elementary/middle school grades, a ton of their test scores really do depend on their attitude. There's a story of an 8th grader at my school that, while he had the ability to do well on one of his tests, he spent the majority of the testing sessions drawing sea life in the test book. I'm assuming he didn't score too well...and I would also gather that his teacher didn't look to his scores to help her figure out her areas of strength and weakness as a teacher.
There's also parents that don't put much stock into it, a friend of mine had a parent last year that said, "Well, all the kids know it doesn't really matter how THEY do...it's just a report card for the teachers."
^That^ statement scares me, but I'll save it for post some other day.
Does state testing foster "teaching to the test"? Well...yeah. But, the test reflects the state standards, which are reflected in my district standards, which are then reflected in my school expectations. What is wrong with that?????
I know the horror stories of teachers just doing "testing workbooks" all year long, but honestly...how many of you have really seen/experienced that? I know that my students will have to analyze some poetry, so I have them analyze some poetry throughout the year. I also know that my students will be required to respond to a persuasive, descriptive, or explanatory prompt...yeah, they've been sharpening their writing skills in those areas throughout the year.
Frankly, if you are doing your job, and teaching to the standards and grade-level appropriate curriculum..you ARE teaching to the test, and that's okay. I'm lucky to be in a school that allows a great deal of teacher-autonomy, so I can get my kids to write persuasively any way I want. I had them identify propaganda techniques, read persuasive writing, analyze persuasive writing, research an issue, and finally, write a persuasive essay about the issue. <----That, my friends is how AimCo " teaches to the test".
So, long story longer, I don't mind the period of testing. It gives me some data, I can get end of the quarter grading done, read some books, and organize my file cabinet...not a bad week, in my opinion.
Saturday, February 26, 2011
Yogi Musings
This is something that I've been thinking about for a while...and the irony (or hypocracy) of how I live my life, and how I aspire to live my life struck me as I was sitting in the bathtub in a hotel "up the hill" last weekend.
For Babe's birthday, we got a room for a couple nights in a little gambling town and since it was the first time in a while that we were absolutely alone--no kids, no friends, no family..just US we decided to do it up right. Needless to say, we lost a ton of money, drank a lot of alcohol, ate like shit (but it was delicious!) and didn't workout.
In the midst of my hangover (and you know after a 2-day bender, they suck ass) I decided to let Babe sleep and I figured I'd take a bath. Since I finished my book the day before, I grabbed the most recent issue of Yoga Journal to flip through while I relaxed in the tub.
Now, I'm not a hard core yoga chick--I love doing yoga, but it's not like I visit a studio or anything--heck I do my yoga in my classroom using this website. I do, however really enjoy it...I've gotten stronger, I think my posture is better, and it really is relaxing. What I don't do is really buy into all the "feel the pulse of the universe through the soles of your feet" stuff. The instructors that teach the classes I enjoy do throw some of the yogi-mystical-eastern stuff into their teaching, but most of the time their advice is sound: listen to your body, don't do anything that makes you hurt or feel uncomfortable, and live in the now. I think we could all do that...
Anyway, back to the point. There I was, feeling absolutely crappy, soaking in the tub (which I'm sure used gallons upon gallons of water) reading this magazine which is all about pure, healthy living. The polar opposite-ness of it all hit me hard. I would LOVE to detox my body: quit drinking alcohol, quit eating refined sugar, quit eating red meat (or most meat altogether), quit staying up until crazy hours, etc.
But. (There's always as but, right?)
I adore a juicy hamburger.
I love unwinding with a glass or wine or celebrating with my posse with a shot or something.
I treat myself with decadent spoonful or two of Ben and Jerry's Phish Food.
I stay up late with Babe some rights because it's the only time of the day where we get to be alone and have some grown up time.
Am I a bad person because I flat out admit that I enjoy some things that are bad for me and I have neither the willpower nor the desire to eliminate them from my life? Or, am I doing okay because while I recognize that I have some unhealthy habits, I strive to live my life as healthy as I can?
I dunno...but I'll keep searching.
For Babe's birthday, we got a room for a couple nights in a little gambling town and since it was the first time in a while that we were absolutely alone--no kids, no friends, no family..just US we decided to do it up right. Needless to say, we lost a ton of money, drank a lot of alcohol, ate like shit (but it was delicious!) and didn't workout.
In the midst of my hangover (and you know after a 2-day bender, they suck ass) I decided to let Babe sleep and I figured I'd take a bath. Since I finished my book the day before, I grabbed the most recent issue of Yoga Journal to flip through while I relaxed in the tub.
Now, I'm not a hard core yoga chick--I love doing yoga, but it's not like I visit a studio or anything--heck I do my yoga in my classroom using this website. I do, however really enjoy it...I've gotten stronger, I think my posture is better, and it really is relaxing. What I don't do is really buy into all the "feel the pulse of the universe through the soles of your feet" stuff. The instructors that teach the classes I enjoy do throw some of the yogi-mystical-eastern stuff into their teaching, but most of the time their advice is sound: listen to your body, don't do anything that makes you hurt or feel uncomfortable, and live in the now. I think we could all do that...
Anyway, back to the point. There I was, feeling absolutely crappy, soaking in the tub (which I'm sure used gallons upon gallons of water) reading this magazine which is all about pure, healthy living. The polar opposite-ness of it all hit me hard. I would LOVE to detox my body: quit drinking alcohol, quit eating refined sugar, quit eating red meat (or most meat altogether), quit staying up until crazy hours, etc.
But. (There's always as but, right?)
I adore a juicy hamburger.
I love unwinding with a glass or wine or celebrating with my posse with a shot or something.
I treat myself with decadent spoonful or two of Ben and Jerry's Phish Food.
I stay up late with Babe some rights because it's the only time of the day where we get to be alone and have some grown up time.
Am I a bad person because I flat out admit that I enjoy some things that are bad for me and I have neither the willpower nor the desire to eliminate them from my life? Or, am I doing okay because while I recognize that I have some unhealthy habits, I strive to live my life as healthy as I can?
I dunno...but I'll keep searching.
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
Dystopia...All the Kids are Doing It
My first post about books...I'm so excited!
For those of you that know me, I'm a voracious reader--I read just about every genre, whether it's adult fiction or young adult fiction. I tend to have streaks where I read nothing but one type of book then I switch and read something else. AS of now I'm on a bit of a YA fiction kick--which is so funny to me because the looks I get from the librarians when I'm scoping out the YA section make me laugh. I'm sure they think I'm strange. Whatevs, I read what my kids read (or what they may want to read) so I can make recommendations. I'm not ashamed...
I've noticed that YA authors are trendy and the "hot" books at any time will spawn a bajillion other books of the exact same type. It's fascinating, really. From the loins of Twilight (dog vomit, if you ask me) sprung a million other teen vampire/werewolf/preternatural being books and series. Don't get me wrong, I love the vampires. I've been a Buffy fan from the get go and two of my favorite book series are the Anita Blake books (before they got all soft-core pornish) and the Hallows series. But, one AMAZINGZOMGTHISISSOCUTTINGEDGE series is great. Twelve of them...it's just overkill and unoriginal.
The other trend I've been seeing lately are the "dystopia" books...you know instead of a unicorn and rainbow utopia, everyone is living in Hell. It seems like everyone is trying to emulate what I consider the ultimate of the genre, Lois Lowry's The Giver. Books like The Bar Code Tattoo, the Uglies series, Fearless (just to name a few) are trying to recreate the horror and wonder of Lowry's book.
They fail.
What we're left with is a bleak look at "what could be" with no hope for things to get better. As with everything, there are exceptions to the rule--I'm totally digging The Maze Runner and The Hunger Games series. I think what's different is that these are well-written, the characters are well-thought out, and while the plot points are a bit dark, they're dealt with in a humorous, empathetic manner.
I really don't know the point of this post...it's not really a rant, not a book review...just some musing about what all the kids are reading right now.
For those of you that know me, I'm a voracious reader--I read just about every genre, whether it's adult fiction or young adult fiction. I tend to have streaks where I read nothing but one type of book then I switch and read something else. AS of now I'm on a bit of a YA fiction kick--which is so funny to me because the looks I get from the librarians when I'm scoping out the YA section make me laugh. I'm sure they think I'm strange. Whatevs, I read what my kids read (or what they may want to read) so I can make recommendations. I'm not ashamed...
I've noticed that YA authors are trendy and the "hot" books at any time will spawn a bajillion other books of the exact same type. It's fascinating, really. From the loins of Twilight (dog vomit, if you ask me) sprung a million other teen vampire/werewolf/preternatural being books and series. Don't get me wrong, I love the vampires. I've been a Buffy fan from the get go and two of my favorite book series are the Anita Blake books (before they got all soft-core pornish) and the Hallows series. But, one AMAZINGZOMGTHISISSOCUTTINGEDGE series is great. Twelve of them...it's just overkill and unoriginal.
The other trend I've been seeing lately are the "dystopia" books...you know instead of a unicorn and rainbow utopia, everyone is living in Hell. It seems like everyone is trying to emulate what I consider the ultimate of the genre, Lois Lowry's The Giver. Books like The Bar Code Tattoo, the Uglies series, Fearless (just to name a few) are trying to recreate the horror and wonder of Lowry's book.
They fail.
What we're left with is a bleak look at "what could be" with no hope for things to get better. As with everything, there are exceptions to the rule--I'm totally digging The Maze Runner and The Hunger Games series. I think what's different is that these are well-written, the characters are well-thought out, and while the plot points are a bit dark, they're dealt with in a humorous, empathetic manner.
I really don't know the point of this post...it's not really a rant, not a book review...just some musing about what all the kids are reading right now.
Thursday, February 10, 2011
The Curse of Multi-Tasking
This morning I found myself face-down, ass-up in the bathroom.
(pause for effect)
No, Babe and I weren't having some "alone time". I was cleaning up the mess of shattered glass and lotion that was once a lovely addition to my bathroom counter. The reason it happened was pretty simple: Babe cleaned up the bathroom after a long day of teaching and coaching, so this morning, while I was brushing my teeth, I figured I could help out a bit by wiping down the counter. One-handed, I got the cleaner, sprayed it all over the counter and the sink, got the sponge, got it wet, started wiping and moving things around so I could access all the nooks and crannies. (Yes, I'm still brushing my teeth at this point.) I moved the lotion away from its spot by the mirror to the edge of the counter. Can you see where I'm going?
I finish brushing my teeth, stand up (I was leaning over and cleaning) turn, and jam my right elbow into the glass jar.
SMASH alloverthetilefloor. All Babe can hear (he's still in bed at this point...it wasn't even 6 yet) is, "Shit! Shit! Shitshitshitshit!" Of course, he's worried because he heard glass breaking and then me freaking out, but I can't let him in the bathroom because there's glass and lotion EVERYWHERE. So I clean up the mess, while Babe gets the vacuum. We get it handled and we move on.
Lesson learned: Don't groom and clean at the same time.
(pause for effect)
No, Babe and I weren't having some "alone time". I was cleaning up the mess of shattered glass and lotion that was once a lovely addition to my bathroom counter. The reason it happened was pretty simple: Babe cleaned up the bathroom after a long day of teaching and coaching, so this morning, while I was brushing my teeth, I figured I could help out a bit by wiping down the counter. One-handed, I got the cleaner, sprayed it all over the counter and the sink, got the sponge, got it wet, started wiping and moving things around so I could access all the nooks and crannies. (Yes, I'm still brushing my teeth at this point.) I moved the lotion away from its spot by the mirror to the edge of the counter. Can you see where I'm going?
I finish brushing my teeth, stand up (I was leaning over and cleaning) turn, and jam my right elbow into the glass jar.
SMASH alloverthetilefloor. All Babe can hear (he's still in bed at this point...it wasn't even 6 yet) is, "Shit! Shit! Shitshitshitshit!" Of course, he's worried because he heard glass breaking and then me freaking out, but I can't let him in the bathroom because there's glass and lotion EVERYWHERE. So I clean up the mess, while Babe gets the vacuum. We get it handled and we move on.
Lesson learned: Don't groom and clean at the same time.
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
10 Things: You Didn't Know About Me
Ah, when I don't have the time to write anything intelligent (and trust me, I know I'm using the term "intelligent" loosely...) I fall back on "The List".
1. Despite being a voracious reader, I've not read many of "the classics". I find them boring.
2. I still bite my nails.
3. I adore U2...but really everything up to and including The Joshua Tree. After that, I think Bono tried too hard.
4. I've been married three times. (You know what they say, "Third time's the charm.")
5. I have a horrible temper. In the past, I've been known to kick holes in walls and throw things through closet doors. I've calmed down in my adult years, but I still get wicked pissed!
6. I have a weird phone phobia. I blame the internet. Now that I don't have to talk to people, I'd prefer not to.
7. My entire house is tiled. It's really frelling cold in the winter.
8. I'm deathly allergic to cats...yet I'm considering letting Babe get one. Is that true love or what??
9. I accidentally burned off the fingerprint on my left hand when I was in 7th grade. When it finally healed, the print never completely returned.
10. I cry at commercials.
There you have it...the dirt.
1. Despite being a voracious reader, I've not read many of "the classics". I find them boring.
2. I still bite my nails.
3. I adore U2...but really everything up to and including The Joshua Tree. After that, I think Bono tried too hard.
4. I've been married three times. (You know what they say, "Third time's the charm.")
5. I have a horrible temper. In the past, I've been known to kick holes in walls and throw things through closet doors. I've calmed down in my adult years, but I still get wicked pissed!
6. I have a weird phone phobia. I blame the internet. Now that I don't have to talk to people, I'd prefer not to.
7. My entire house is tiled. It's really frelling cold in the winter.
8. I'm deathly allergic to cats...yet I'm considering letting Babe get one. Is that true love or what??
9. I accidentally burned off the fingerprint on my left hand when I was in 7th grade. When it finally healed, the print never completely returned.
10. I cry at commercials.
There you have it...the dirt.
I Need to Have a Topic!
This poem, written by a former student (she was a 6th grader at the time...she's graduating from high school this year...) sums up why I haven't blogged in a while.
So many things to write...not enough time or motivation. <le sigh> I think I have the winter blues.
i need to have a topic!
who knows what my topic should be,
not me.
it could be about
life,
death,
happiness,
sadness,
love,
anger.
but no one to fit
perfectly into my thoughts.
so many ideas
but no topic.
wandering around
hopelessly
trying to
complete the assignment.
but there's nothing, no
it's blank.
So many things to write...not enough time or motivation. <le sigh> I think I have the winter blues.
Monday, January 31, 2011
Today's PSA is Sponsored By...
The letter "s"!
Just because you put the letter "s" at the end of something doesn't automatically mean it requires an apostrophe! ARGH!
This is so frustrating to me...I get it, the English language is difficult. We have goofy rules for spelling, grammar, and punctuation. Rarely does anything truly follow a pattern or a rule. I get it! But, this whole "adding an apostrophe s" to everything drives me nuts.
Apostrophes = possession.
See? Not that hard.
Just because you put the letter "s" at the end of something doesn't automatically mean it requires an apostrophe! ARGH!
This is so frustrating to me...I get it, the English language is difficult. We have goofy rules for spelling, grammar, and punctuation. Rarely does anything truly follow a pattern or a rule. I get it! But, this whole "adding an apostrophe s" to everything drives me nuts.
Apostrophes = possession.
See? Not that hard.
Friday, January 21, 2011
At Least It's Progress
So, remember that "evolution" I was talking about in an earlier post?
It's somewhat stalled.
I'd get frustrated, but then I remember what my homeboy Darwin said, and realize that massive evolutionary changes don't happen over night. Nope. It can take millions of years for something to evolve...so I shouldn't get pissed off when I skip working out for a couple days. I have been working out on a more regular basis (despite me getting sick, the kids getting sick, work, family, etc. getting in the way) and I've been eating well (more or less). So, AimCo 1-My Fat Ass 0.
I'm getting ready to start applying to grad school--applications aren't due until April, so I do have some time. (Note to self...get application due date in my Google Calendar. ) Hopefully taking classes and meeting other people will help me figure out what I want to be when I grow up. While I love the classroom, I just feel like I'm meant for something else.
Organization...<sigh> What can I say about that? I'm still a lazy slob because after a day of working and working out and grading and mommying the kids...I'm frelling TIRED. I think I just have to accept the fact that my house will be an exercise in organized chaos until both kids are old enough to understand it when I say, "If you mess up the clean floor, expect to lick it up!" (I kid! I kid!) Seriously, Bay is only 2. She sings the "clean up" song, but has the attention span of a hummingbird, so for her, a serious cleaning session lasts about 90 seconds. Boo is getting better and as soon as he realizes that me "helping" him clean doesn't really mean "Mom does it all" we'll be on the right track. Babe has been awesome at the helping and if it wasn't for him...I'm sure my dose of meds would be much higher than it is right now.
So, that's where I've been. See you soon. <3
It's somewhat stalled.
I'd get frustrated, but then I remember what my homeboy Darwin said, and realize that massive evolutionary changes don't happen over night. Nope. It can take millions of years for something to evolve...so I shouldn't get pissed off when I skip working out for a couple days. I have been working out on a more regular basis (despite me getting sick, the kids getting sick, work, family, etc. getting in the way) and I've been eating well (more or less). So, AimCo 1-My Fat Ass 0.
I'm getting ready to start applying to grad school--applications aren't due until April, so I do have some time. (Note to self...get application due date in my Google Calendar. ) Hopefully taking classes and meeting other people will help me figure out what I want to be when I grow up. While I love the classroom, I just feel like I'm meant for something else.
Organization...<sigh> What can I say about that? I'm still a lazy slob because after a day of working and working out and grading and mommying the kids...I'm frelling TIRED. I think I just have to accept the fact that my house will be an exercise in organized chaos until both kids are old enough to understand it when I say, "If you mess up the clean floor, expect to lick it up!" (I kid! I kid!) Seriously, Bay is only 2. She sings the "clean up" song, but has the attention span of a hummingbird, so for her, a serious cleaning session lasts about 90 seconds. Boo is getting better and as soon as he realizes that me "helping" him clean doesn't really mean "Mom does it all" we'll be on the right track. Babe has been awesome at the helping and if it wasn't for him...I'm sure my dose of meds would be much higher than it is right now.
So, that's where I've been. See you soon. <3
Sunday, January 16, 2011
10 Things: That I Adore
(We really could call my lists "I wanted to write something but am too ADD to think of something now...LOL.)
1. Fountain Diet Coke. The stuff from McDonald's seems to be the best (I heard its because they put crack in it.)
2. Staying in bed on a crappy-weather day and reading.
3. The funny shit Boo says. He comes up with the strangest ideas!
4. When Bay lets out a spontaneous "I love you Mama!"
5. Getting to spend every day with my best friend. (That would be Babe, if you were wondering.)
6. The fact that my grocery getter can blow past many "sports cars" on the highway. Gotta love the turbo!
7. My Droid X. I don't know how I lived without it for so long! (Sad, but true...)
8. Being able to exercise again. After 4 ankle surgeries and 3+ years of being pretty much sedentary being able to ride a bike, play volleyball, do yoga, play soccer, lift weights, and do cardio workouts is frelling amazing!
9. When my house is clean and organized. It doesn't happen very often.
10. Cooking a fabulous meal.
I'm somewhat cheesy, but there you go.
1. Fountain Diet Coke. The stuff from McDonald's seems to be the best (I heard its because they put crack in it.)
2. Staying in bed on a crappy-weather day and reading.
3. The funny shit Boo says. He comes up with the strangest ideas!
4. When Bay lets out a spontaneous "I love you Mama!"
5. Getting to spend every day with my best friend. (That would be Babe, if you were wondering.)
6. The fact that my grocery getter can blow past many "sports cars" on the highway. Gotta love the turbo!
7. My Droid X. I don't know how I lived without it for so long! (Sad, but true...)
8. Being able to exercise again. After 4 ankle surgeries and 3+ years of being pretty much sedentary being able to ride a bike, play volleyball, do yoga, play soccer, lift weights, and do cardio workouts is frelling amazing!
9. When my house is clean and organized. It doesn't happen very often.
10. Cooking a fabulous meal.
I'm somewhat cheesy, but there you go.
Wednesday, January 12, 2011
Biting the Hand That Feeds
Ever since I wrote the title, I keep hearing Trent Reznor in my head.
I've been mulling over this topic for a while--it started after some random student (an 8th grade girl, I believe...well, I *know* she was a girl, I *think* she was in 8th grade) came into my room and asked what time the Talent Show started that evening.
My reply, "Um...7:00 p.m."
Girl: "Where do we get tickets?"
Me: "Um...it's free. But Student Council will be selling snacks, so you might want to bring money for that."
Girl: "Kthxbai!"
I didn't even bother to remind her that there are about 20 posters all around the school (one of them being RIGHT OUTSIDE MY DOOR...the one she just came through) with all of the pertinent information on them. I didn't even dream of mentioning the fact that information about the Talent Show had been on NHN (our daily announcement news broadcast) for the past 4 days. I just didn't.
What was the point? Despite spoon-feeding the information to the 1,300+ students in my building, they still weren't paying attention. But that's the problem...we're raising a generation of helpless kids. They have gone through life with everything at their fingertips: information, conversation, movies...all on demand and they've gotten to the point where they struggle to merely access information that should be simple.
Obviously, I'm over-generalizing, there are plenty of kids who don't have everything given to them, but in my school, those kids are few and far between. Is it a result of their parents being crazy-rich? Perhaps. Is it a result of their parents being raised in (most likely) very strict households and these parents are swearing, "I'll never be THAT kind of parent!"? Perhaps.
I don't have the answer, and trust me, if I did I wouldn't be working in a district that will most likely forgo raises for the third year in a row, nor would I be in a field where the more educated you are and the more "loyal" you've been to a district bites you in the ass. Oh, no siree! I'd be writing books and giving lectures on how to fix these problems. But, I don't know how so here I sit...writing while my students are creating skits.
One thing I do know, however is we need to teach kids how to figure stuff out on their own. These students HAVE to be able to problem solve and learn how to think for themselves. Parents have got to quit getting up teachers asses if "little JoeBob" isn't getting an A. Guess what? Teachers don't "give grades" we merely record the choices and decisions students have made.
I'm not saying that we need to raise kids under the totalitarian-type rule that was the norm in the 50's, but c'mon...we need to do something because frankly, if these are the kids that are going to be in charge of the world when I'm older...I'm really hoping they've colonized Mars.
I've been mulling over this topic for a while--it started after some random student (an 8th grade girl, I believe...well, I *know* she was a girl, I *think* she was in 8th grade) came into my room and asked what time the Talent Show started that evening.
My reply, "Um...7:00 p.m."
Girl: "Where do we get tickets?"
Me: "Um...it's free. But Student Council will be selling snacks, so you might want to bring money for that."
Girl: "Kthxbai!"
I didn't even bother to remind her that there are about 20 posters all around the school (one of them being RIGHT OUTSIDE MY DOOR...the one she just came through) with all of the pertinent information on them. I didn't even dream of mentioning the fact that information about the Talent Show had been on NHN (our daily announcement news broadcast) for the past 4 days. I just didn't.
What was the point? Despite spoon-feeding the information to the 1,300+ students in my building, they still weren't paying attention. But that's the problem...we're raising a generation of helpless kids. They have gone through life with everything at their fingertips: information, conversation, movies...all on demand and they've gotten to the point where they struggle to merely access information that should be simple.
Obviously, I'm over-generalizing, there are plenty of kids who don't have everything given to them, but in my school, those kids are few and far between. Is it a result of their parents being crazy-rich? Perhaps. Is it a result of their parents being raised in (most likely) very strict households and these parents are swearing, "I'll never be THAT kind of parent!"? Perhaps.
I don't have the answer, and trust me, if I did I wouldn't be working in a district that will most likely forgo raises for the third year in a row, nor would I be in a field where the more educated you are and the more "loyal" you've been to a district bites you in the ass. Oh, no siree! I'd be writing books and giving lectures on how to fix these problems. But, I don't know how so here I sit...writing while my students are creating skits.
One thing I do know, however is we need to teach kids how to figure stuff out on their own. These students HAVE to be able to problem solve and learn how to think for themselves. Parents have got to quit getting up teachers asses if "little JoeBob" isn't getting an A. Guess what? Teachers don't "give grades" we merely record the choices and decisions students have made.
I'm not saying that we need to raise kids under the totalitarian-type rule that was the norm in the 50's, but c'mon...we need to do something because frankly, if these are the kids that are going to be in charge of the world when I'm older...I'm really hoping they've colonized Mars.
Tuesday, January 4, 2011
Selling Out
I decided to add AdSense to the blog for no other reason than it doesn't cost me anything and if I earn a quarter...it's more of a raise than I got this year from my job! :D
If it's annoying, I'll remove it, so let me know.
If it's annoying, I'll remove it, so let me know.
Sunday, January 2, 2011
Breaking My Heart
Bay is old enough and "with it" enough to finally understand that Boo leaves once a week. A couple weeks ago, she started asking where he was when he was at his dad's house...
Today, I put her down for her nap, then I took Boo to meet his dad.
Just now (she woke up from nap about 35 minutes ago) she asked, "Where Dakey (how she says his name) go?" When I told her she was at his dad's house, she yelled, "NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" and proceeded to cry for about 5 minutes.
Granted, she's over it now, and probably won't even remember that he's gone until tomorrow...where we'll have the same scene all over again.
I love the fact that she's becoming cognizant enough to realize that there's a change in the house. On the other hand, I HATE the fact that she has to.
Today, I put her down for her nap, then I took Boo to meet his dad.
Just now (she woke up from nap about 35 minutes ago) she asked, "Where Dakey (how she says his name) go?" When I told her she was at his dad's house, she yelled, "NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" and proceeded to cry for about 5 minutes.
Granted, she's over it now, and probably won't even remember that he's gone until tomorrow...where we'll have the same scene all over again.
I love the fact that she's becoming cognizant enough to realize that there's a change in the house. On the other hand, I HATE the fact that she has to.
The Evolution Will Not Be Televised!
(But I am going to blog about it...)
Ahhhhh, New Year's...a time to work off the hangover and make a bunch of resolutions that won't see the light of February.
Or maybe not...
On Facebook yesterday, the founder/owner of Tokyo Joe's (a Japanese-y type of quick food place--think Noodles and Co. but with Asian flavors) posted this: "...and to steal a phrase (thanks Lindsey) ... go make yourself a great NEW YEAR'S "EVOLUTION" ... better than just a Resolution :)
It's Time Out to Re-invent Yourself ... so make 2011 YOUR best year ever."
(Yes, I'm friends with "Tokyo Joe's.)
As cheesy as it sounds, it got me thinking...it shouldn't be about "resolving" to completely change, but life should be about "evolving" into a better you. I like the idea of evolution--I am a godless heathen after all and I *do* consider Darwin one of my peeps--so if I embrace the thought of evolving into a better AimCo and then take steps (baby steps, mind you) to become the better AimCo, then I really will evolve into a better me by the end of the year.
So, here's what I'm thinking...I want to:
1. Evolve into a better teacher/educator: I don't phone it in that often--I'm not a teacher that will do the same thing overandoverandover again because I know that it worked once. However, I'm becoming more disenchanted with the education system--the changes, the battles we fight, the shit teachers take from the media, parents, administrators, the district, the union, the school boards, etc. Instead of just letting the changes happen to me, I want to be a force of change within the system. Crazy, right?
How do I do this? No fucking clue. ;D I think my first step is to get my EdS (Education Specialist) degree with the emphasis in education. I have my Masters, but I think in order to move ahead, I need the admin experience. I DO NOT want to be in administration in the traditional sense of the word--I don't want to be in charge of a building. I get my feelings hurt too easily to do that, but I think knowing how schools work will help me get out of one.
Another think I need to go to evolve my career is to dump the thankless shit that I do in my building: Student Council, planning the yearly trip, being the "go to" person for everyone. I need to quit, period. Frankly, I never get props for it, very few people care, and frankly it takes a ton of time and energy away from other things I could be doing.
2. Evolve into a better wife/mother: See above. By letting go of some the things that I do at work, I can focus more energy into my family. I want more family dinners, I want less time spent on cleaning up the disaster-area my house can become, I want to have more fun and quality time.
In order to do that, I need to be more organized. Today is a start. I prepped as much food as I could for the week (lots of chopping going on) and labeled everything I could. I've made a Google calendar with EVERYTHING on it so I know exactly what's going on. I'm going to plan my clothes for the week so I'm not stressing out about what to wear. Finally, I'm going to be asleep by 9 (yes, 9!) so I can get up in the morning around 5 and not run around crazy to get ready. (In order to faciltitate this, there may be some Xanax ingesting, but hey, whatever works, right?)
3. Evolve into a healthier me: I need to become more focused on my health. See above...that whole meal planning/prepping thing is so we're not eating crap at the last minute because there's nothing in the house. I'm turning my classroom into a mini-workout studio where I can work out after school on a regular basis. Once I get home, I'm on mom-duty and I won't work out. So, in my room it is. I also ordered a Polar FT7 heart rate monitor so I can track my progress and really see how many calories I'm burning. Babe and I are also taking a "sober week" once a month to just give our bodies a chance to detox. Yes, I know if I just avoided alcohol altogether I wouldn't have to worry about it, but I'm vodka's bitch and I just can't quit it.
Notice how the 3 things fit together? I figure if I keep with the K.I.S.S. philosophy, I should be able to make some changes and I won't overwhelm my brain. I'll keep you posted.
Ahhhhh, New Year's...a time to work off the hangover and make a bunch of resolutions that won't see the light of February.
Or maybe not...
On Facebook yesterday, the founder/owner of Tokyo Joe's (a Japanese-y type of quick food place--think Noodles and Co. but with Asian flavors) posted this: "...and to steal a phrase (thanks Lindsey) ... go make yourself a great NEW YEAR'S "EVOLUTION" ... better than just a Resolution :)
It's Time Out to Re-invent Yourself ... so make 2011 YOUR best year ever."
(Yes, I'm friends with "Tokyo Joe's.)
As cheesy as it sounds, it got me thinking...it shouldn't be about "resolving" to completely change, but life should be about "evolving" into a better you. I like the idea of evolution--I am a godless heathen after all and I *do* consider Darwin one of my peeps--so if I embrace the thought of evolving into a better AimCo and then take steps (baby steps, mind you) to become the better AimCo, then I really will evolve into a better me by the end of the year.
So, here's what I'm thinking...I want to:
1. Evolve into a better teacher/educator: I don't phone it in that often--I'm not a teacher that will do the same thing overandoverandover again because I know that it worked once. However, I'm becoming more disenchanted with the education system--the changes, the battles we fight, the shit teachers take from the media, parents, administrators, the district, the union, the school boards, etc. Instead of just letting the changes happen to me, I want to be a force of change within the system. Crazy, right?
How do I do this? No fucking clue. ;D I think my first step is to get my EdS (Education Specialist) degree with the emphasis in education. I have my Masters, but I think in order to move ahead, I need the admin experience. I DO NOT want to be in administration in the traditional sense of the word--I don't want to be in charge of a building. I get my feelings hurt too easily to do that, but I think knowing how schools work will help me get out of one.
Another think I need to go to evolve my career is to dump the thankless shit that I do in my building: Student Council, planning the yearly trip, being the "go to" person for everyone. I need to quit, period. Frankly, I never get props for it, very few people care, and frankly it takes a ton of time and energy away from other things I could be doing.
2. Evolve into a better wife/mother: See above. By letting go of some the things that I do at work, I can focus more energy into my family. I want more family dinners, I want less time spent on cleaning up the disaster-area my house can become, I want to have more fun and quality time.
In order to do that, I need to be more organized. Today is a start. I prepped as much food as I could for the week (lots of chopping going on) and labeled everything I could. I've made a Google calendar with EVERYTHING on it so I know exactly what's going on. I'm going to plan my clothes for the week so I'm not stressing out about what to wear. Finally, I'm going to be asleep by 9 (yes, 9!) so I can get up in the morning around 5 and not run around crazy to get ready. (In order to faciltitate this, there may be some Xanax ingesting, but hey, whatever works, right?)
3. Evolve into a healthier me: I need to become more focused on my health. See above...that whole meal planning/prepping thing is so we're not eating crap at the last minute because there's nothing in the house. I'm turning my classroom into a mini-workout studio where I can work out after school on a regular basis. Once I get home, I'm on mom-duty and I won't work out. So, in my room it is. I also ordered a Polar FT7 heart rate monitor so I can track my progress and really see how many calories I'm burning. Babe and I are also taking a "sober week" once a month to just give our bodies a chance to detox. Yes, I know if I just avoided alcohol altogether I wouldn't have to worry about it, but I'm vodka's bitch and I just can't quit it.
Notice how the 3 things fit together? I figure if I keep with the K.I.S.S. philosophy, I should be able to make some changes and I won't overwhelm my brain. I'll keep you posted.
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