They Have Created A Monster!

So, in my new role for this school year, I am leaning sign language. The kids are delighted to be teaching ME, rather than the other way around.

I picked up the REALLY important stuff the first two days: "more", "cookie", "please", "sorry", "Good morning", "bus", "what", "which", "sit", and so forth.

Today, they started teaching me the signs for various foods: potato, bread, hot dog, taco, broccoli, banana, strawberry, spaghetti, oatmeal, blueberry, soup, cereal, lemon, bacon, toast, sandwich, cheese... I did pretty well when quizzed right after the fact, but the real kicker will be when I remember them tomorrow, or even a month from now. I've been told to prepare myself mentally for a "test" tomorrow.

I've been coming home and signing all that I can remember to JF and Offspring, and tonight at the dinner table, the following conversation occurred:

Offspring: (as she's walking to the dining room from her bedroom) "What's for dinner?"

JF: "Food!"

Me: (as she takes her seat) "Chicken, potatoes, and mixed vegetables. I know the signs for chicken and potatoes, and I know carrots and corn, but not peas."

(I proceed to demonstrate the newly-learned signs.)

Offspring: "Mom, you know -- I don't really care. I had enough of learning already today."

Feel the love, people.

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Speaking of school, we had a lock-down today because apparently come carjackers were in the area next to our school, and they were armed. After a harrowing afternoon involving many cops and police dogs and helicopters in the area, the all-clear was finally given. None of our students was harmed, and hopefully, no one got totally freaked by the experience, but stuff like that REALLY makes me nervous as all get-out.

Glad everything worked out.

School, More School, and Other Assorted Stuff

Okay, so my first day back at work was today, and boy howdy -- was it HARD to get up with the alarm clock this morning! This was compounded by the fact that our lovely kitteh decided to howl every 15 seconds starting at 1am. JF finally drug his poor, tired self out of bed and made her lay with him on the couch. Of course, this was what she wanted all along, so it wasn't too much of an imposition on her.

The alarm rang at o'dark-thirty this morning, and I stumbled into the shower, bleary-eyed. (In the summer, I sleep as late as I can possibly manage. That's the only benefit that I can see to having a teenager -- sometimes, she sleeps even later than I do. And, if by some miracle she's awakens before me, she smooshes her butt into the crevice in the couch cushions and plays XBOX without bothering to wake me. It's at those moments that I am SUPREMELY glad that she no longer craves my company every second of the day. Where was I? Oh, yes -- the shower.)

I get into the shower, and am promptly clonked on the head by the hand-held nozzle while simultaneously having my back scalded by excruciatingly hot water because the last person to use the shower didn't turn that knob all the way off. What a way to start off the day! I'm just glad that I wasn't clonked in the jaw! (Speaking of jaw -- I was supposed to go see the oral surgeon about my TMJ, and his office called and said that they checked my insurance, and it doesn't cover TMJ. So, if I wanted to still go to that consult, it would be $568 out of pocket, and we don't do financing, thank you very much. Guess I'll suffer with a sore jaw for a while...)

I get to school, and go to my new assignment, and we find that our two adjoining classrooms have been reduced into one. And all the furniture from BOTH classrooms are now shoved, higgledy-piggledy, into one room. We spend all day moving furniture from one spot to another, trying to get most of it to fit. We worked our tails off in that room today, and it STILL looks like an educational supply store threw up and then exploded in there.

I'm tired, and I want to go to bed. The sleep I *didn't* get last night is now catching up to me. My jaw is beginning to ache, despite judicious application of ice cream, so it's off to get the ibuprofen with the naproxen sodium chaser, and then lights out. I have another full day of furniture wrangling and shelf clearing ahead of me.

I have yet to get my final grade for my class, but it should be posted some time tomorrow. I will post the final grade if I haven't committed seppuku. I have three more days in the classroom before kids arrive, and two weeks until I start my next class. So, the next few months are going to be OUTRAGEOUSLY busy, with work every day, school on Monday and Wednesday nights, and Girl Scouts on Thursdays and the occasional adult meeting on Tuesdays. If you don't see me for a while, check in to make sure that I haven't imploded.

Whine/Anti-Whine

Some of you lovely people read the Wednesday Whine, a sort of blog-Brigadoon that I've been involved with for quite a while. Some of you are not familiar with the concept, so I'll (briefly) explain:

A long time ago, a delightful bloggy friend named Phantom Scribbler hosted a weekly bitch-fest at her personal blog. It was a place where friends could complain and commiserate with each other over the joys and flops in their lives. It became a task too heavy for lovely PS, who allowed a collection of moderators to take over the idea and give it its own home. WW, as it is familiarly known, has been a great community, and I've greatly enjoyed taking part in it.

But, since I am colossally lazy, I have decided to repost here my submission for the WW, and this will keep all of you three dear readers updated on what's going on here at Chez KLee. Here follows my tale, told in whine/anti-whine format.

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W: I'm in a bad bad BAD situation at work. It hasn't been very much fun for several weeks. Tensions are high, and with only 2 days of school left, we're all testy and short tempered. But, most of the bad bad BAD situation makes me look bad to everyone else, even if that isn't actually the facts.

A/W: Got accepted back to school, so that mitigates some of the bad bad BAD stuff. I'm excited about it. It will allow me to mark off one of those things on my major "To Do" life lists.

W: Was supposed to have a scholarship to cover cost of tuition for Summer Term at said school, only to find a bill for almost 3K (that I seriously DON'T have) in the mail today. Uh.....guys?!? Hello?

A/W: If I am still going to school, it'll get my mom off my back. Plus, President Obama is urging people to further their education in times of economic crisis, so it's almost like I'm *helping!*

W: Am still sick. Not as sick as I was about a month ago, thank God. But, still sick. And, apparently, I now have high cholesterol, too. Thanks for that! Sickness involved almost accidentally overdosing on migraine drugs the other day, and a cyst on my neck that will have to be cut out at some point. Trying to save the day surgery for after school is done so I don't have to work or move during the recovery process.

A/W: At least I DIDN'T overdose, though I had double vision and serious nausea. And, I gotta figure that every day I'm not taking the Great Dirt Nap is a good day. So, yeah -- I'll count being alive among the anti-whines these days.

Maintaining Radio Silence

Never fear, my faithful three readers -- I have not gone gentle into that good night. (When I go, there won't be anything *gentle* about it. I plan to go, kicking and screaming.)

I have been very busy, as the end of all school years tend to be.

*We are winding up all of our end-of-the-year testing, and trying to tie up all the loose ends for the children who most likely won't be matriculating on to first grade. This is also usually the time where we have many visits from irate parents who want to harangue us, even though we've been telling them the same basic information since the first marking period. What do they expect when they don't bother to help their child(ren) with their school work? How can they say they're really surprised that little Johnny is failing kindergarten when we can't even get you to bring him to school every day, much less with pencils and crayons; and nevermind with completed homework? Anyway...it's the same song, every year.

*Offspring is going to be a rising eighth-grader, and with that comes the rush to get her portfolio together so she can audition for the Arts school here in town in the winter for a entering freshman for the following year. We are pushing hard at her to really work on her artwork, but I don't think it's sinking in on her. I really want her to get in this school -- it's fabulous academically, and the potential for her personal growth there would be incredible. The options left open to us if she's NOT accepted I don't even want to fathom.

*Speaking of school -- I have applied to go back to school myself. More on that as it develops, but that's in the extreme infancy stage right now. Haven't even been accepted, but hopefully that's nothing major to worry over.

*I often joke about living in the tropics, but my joke was made real today by the monsoon JF and I experienced as we went out to do the grocery shopping. We headed out to Sam's, and by the time we got there, the water was coming down so hard you could barely see, there was hail the size of Tic Tacs, and the wind was blowing us around like a candy wrapper in an updraft. JF clambered over the backseat like a monkey to get the big golf umbrella for me while he took the teeny collapsible one. We might as well have not even used the blasted brollies for all the good they did us! We were soaked to the skin within minutes, the the wind turned my heavy umbrella into kinetic sculpture. Funnily enough, the small umbrella survived unscathed. The employees at Sam's got a hearty giggle out of our drowned-rat appearance, and they even made a sale with the strategically-placed beach towels at the front entrance. JF snickered endlessly at the fact the umbrellas did nothing to help us, and wandered around muttering about "great big old fat rain."

*We had a Girl Scout appreciation dinner the other night for the leaders in our local unit, and the decision was made to hold it at our local Carrabba's. Now, I'm not a fan of Carrabba's, and I wouldn't have gone except for the fact that it was our end-of-the-year, hand out all the certificates of appreciation type of thing. Our Service Unit Manager called three weeks ahead of time, and reserved their back room so that our large party would not disturb any of the other patrons. She called back the day before our gathering to confirm. Everyting seemed fine -- they had us down for 35 people at 7pm. I was the first to arrive the next evening, at 6:30, in order to do a little bit of decorating on the tables. I was told they were getting our tables together. When the others arrived, they tried to direct us to tables in the middle of the restaurant. They'd given the tables in the back room away. To two people. We asked to speak with the manager. He refused to asked them to move, or to help us in any way. We explained that we'd had that room reserved for over 3 weeks, and we'd asked for that room SPECIFICALLY because we'd be making presentations, and getting up and down a lot, and we didn't want to disturb other diners. He still refused to give us the room. We were on the brink of walking; 25 irate PAYING customers; when one of our ladies sweet-talks him into shooing the parties in the back room out of there as quickly as he can without being ugly AND free desserts for all of us. As we're shown to the table, the hostess is as rude as she can possibly be to me. I would have been happier anywhere else. I will NEVER go to Carrabba's again. I sense an angry letter in my future.

That's pretty much all that's going on here. Offspring took a Girl Scout trip to Orlando this weekend, so I'm just waiting for the call that her bus is trundling up the turnpike, and I should hie my fanny up to the meeting place to fetch her. Stay alive out there, people!

On The Road Again

...or, more accurately, on the tracks again! I'm off this evening to catch my train to Baltimore. I hope to get some "fun" time in among all the "professional learning" time, but I'm not sure how much opportunity to do so I will have.

I plan on taking pictures, and hopefully, some of them will be interesting enough to share!

I'll be gone until Monday, so hold down the fort until then, okay?

Burnt Out

....or rather, the fire in my throat has burnt out. I, myself, have been feeling burnt out for a while. The latest development in the illness saga is that while my throat no longer feels as if it lost a fight with a packet of razor blades followed by a lemon juice chaser, it had mysteriously gone on strike.

I woke up this morning tired (thanks, Daylight Savings Time!) but feeling much better overall. There was some minor hacking in the shower as the hot water loosened my chest up, but my first clue that Something Was Not Right was in the car on the way to work. I've been blasting the most recent Evanescence album for about a month now, and trilling along with Amy Lee. Imagine my surprise when my usual soprano voice did a fairly convincing "Alvin and the Chipmunks" impersonation.

It was decidedly off to realize that I was about to head into a classroom with 16 rambunctious charges with no voice to speak of. I relied a lot on pseudo-sign language today, coupled with a lot of "come close so I can whisper to you" gestures. There was a lot of pointing, and a lot of raised eyebrows as well. I'll let you all imagine how swimmingly my day went. Go ahead -- imagine. I'll wait. Okay. Got a picture in your head? Now, instead superimpose that image with one of the mushroom clouds after the nuclear tests on Bikini Atoll, and you're just about there.

To cap the night off, Offspring gets a frantic text message from a school friend that the super duper, miss-the-WHOLE-day-of-school field trip she's been DYING to go on only has about 13 slots left. She panics, and thrusts the phone at me to call the travel agent in order to secure one of those last seats. Of course, they are closed for the day. OF COURSE. My life wouldn't have it any other way. I leave a very squeaky voice mail for the agent, and hope like hell they can decipher it.

And, in keeping with the "Once again, the Devil farts in my face" tradition, the very minute I am off the phone, Offspring bursts into the room, saying that the message that she got from her friend was "just a joke." Well, of course it was! AND I get to pony up $116 for the privilege, too!

Granted, the trip is an educational one, and one that I'd like to go on, if given the chance. (They're going to see the King Tut exhibit and the Terracotta Army in Atlanta.) I can't go however, because of this pesky thing called work, and because we will be leaving not even 24 hours later on a Girl Scout trip to go snow-skiing. Don't worry, I'm not taking the ankle biters -- this trip is Offspring's troop. We'll be driving to West Virginia, so I will need plenty of rest beforehand. Which means no back-to-back trips for good old Mom. Poor old Dad won't be going on EITHER trip. He'd have to bunk with a bunch of Boy Scouts he doesn't know for the skiing trip, and he's not exactly what one would call a social animal.

So, I'm off to bed in hopes that my voice will return as mysteriously as it left. If not, I have another day of pointing and gesturing ahead. What fun!

Tales From the Schoolyard

Our little city is well-known for its sub-tropical climate, and lately has been no different. The temperature was 75 on Christmas. Really puts you in the holiday spirit, right?

It was unseasonably warm here. Until about three days ago. Then the cold and dreary, wet weather blew in, and we've had kids bundled up like the Michelin Man roaming the grounds for the last few days. (The sad thing is that it STILL isn't that cold yet, but it's on the way. the weather men say...I no longer trust the local ones. They're not even *trying* anymore! Their forecasts are: "It will be between 63 and 68." Huh? *I* can do that much, and I didn't go to meteorological school!)

At any rate, dismissal this afternoon, the kids were pulling on jackets as they left the main building. Most made comments about the cold. Two fifth graders walked by, and this is the little snippet of conversation I caught before they were out of range:

Big Boy: "Man, it's COLD out here!"
Other Big Boy: "Yeah, it's colder than a witch's....."
BB: "A witch's what?"
OBB: "I dunno, I forget the rest. But, it's colder than the coldest part of that witch!"

Sheer genius. And, no - they weren't modifiying the conversation because I was near -- fifth graders just don't care that much. They obviously have heard the "colder than a witch's teat" saw somewhere before, but probably didn't know what "teat" meant, so therefore forgot it. Ah, the joys of kids!

You Be The Judge

We went back to school today, and it was HARD. I really got used to being a total slug who got paid for not working. Going back to work after the winter break is a slice of heaven compared with coming back after summer break, though.

One of my good friends called my classroom and asked if I could pop down to her room while she went out to the bathroom. I was happy to oblige, and started talking to her first graders. Some asked how my break was, and said "Happy New Year." One little girl raised her hand, and asked a question that gave me a moment's pause....

Student: "Mrs. KLee, do you know that song "Beat It" by Michael Jackson, back when he was black?

Mrs. KLee: "Yes, I know that song -- it came out when I was young. Back when he was black, huh? He's not black now?"

Student: "No, he's white now."

That's pretty bad if the six year olds, who weren't even BORN when he had his heyday know of his efforts to become Diana Ross. Needless to say, it was an interesting way to start off a new year.

25 Days, 25 Reasons

Offspring will officially be a teenager in 25 days. It will be a bloody miracle if all 3 of us make it to 13 without maiming, bloodshed, tears, and LOTS of profanity. It is also somewhat telling that I just misspelled "teenager" as "teeanger."

Don't get me wrong -- I love my daughter with everything that I am, but this age is SUCH a struggle. Everything is of such monumental importance. For you other mothers of teenagers (or thereabouts) out there, is this the way things are in your world?

For example, Offspring *desperately* wants a cell phone. Now, while this is a perfectly normal desire of that age, the histrionics that accompany it! Oh, the wailing and the gnashing of teeth! (That's mostly me, by the way, the wailing and gnashing of teeth. But in my defense, she started it.) I told Offspring that I did not think a cell phone was a good idea. I've heard horror stories of parents who get their child's bill to find out that they've run amok with it, and there are pages and pages of charges. I can tell you right now -- we can't afford a $300 cell phone bill. Plus, cell phones aren't allowed at school, so you can't take it there. Once you get home, you HAVE a phone here that you're always on. Why do you need a cell phone, too? Other than it's the hip accessory to have, and that everyone else has? So, when I tell her that I think it's a bad idea, she comes down with a HUGE case of the sulks.

Despite all of this drama, I do love her. So, in honor of my daughter whom I love, and who I sincerely hope will arrive at her thirteenth birthday, I give you: 25 reasons that I promise not to kill my daughter.

1.) People tend to frown on murder.
2.) By "people" I mean "the cops."
3.) And most likely any other government or state agency as well.
4.) I paid an awful damn lot to have her, and I don't want to let all that money go to waste.
5.) My parents would probably be mad at me.
6.) I don't particularly want to go to jail.
7.) I don't think I'm cut out for life as Big Rhonda's Bitch.
8.) Blood is pretty hard to clean up.
9.) And I think we all know my track record as a housekeeper.
10.) If my cleaning skillz are the deciding factor, I'm toast.
11.) It's also really hard to get blood out of some fabrics.
12.) While I like forensic shows, I don't think I've gleaned enough information to get me off scot-free.
13.) Who else could I get to run out and check the mailbox?
14.) And to bring me extra toilet paper when the spindle is miraculously empty? Again?
15.) It would really put a damper on the Christmas season.
16.) And I'd have to return a WHOLE bunch of gifts.
17.) And I *hate* waiting in the endless return lines.
18.) Plus, my feet are still KILLING me, and it wouldn't be good for me.
19.) Who would feed the kittehs?
20.) What would I do with all of her stuff?
21.) I think I'd really miss her. Eventually.
22.) Who else would drive me to distraction?
23.) Despite all my complaining and her crankiness, I still see occasional flashes of the snuggly little girl who once adored her father and me.
24.) She can still manage to surprise me with a hug or a kiss, even though she's too "cool" for it most of the time.
25.) She's still my baby.

And there you have it. She may make me mental a lot of the time, but I'm just hoping that it's a phase, and we'll all come out unscathed on the other side at some point. I hope we can all hold out that long.

Please, Lord -- Let Me Make It

We have five days of school left.

Every year, I forget how hellish the last week before Christmas break actually is. I remember it as being bad, but I tend to minimize the more horrible details simply because I'm an optimist, and my mind just happens to work that way.

So, not only are there 5 days of school left to get through, with all of the Christmas anticipation that that involves, but there is also a "super moon" waning at the moment. A "super moon", apparently, is not just any crazy-making, normal, full moon, but a full moon that is the closest to Earth that it has been for 15 years, and will be again for another 8 years. So, this means little people who are virtually wetting their pants in excitement over the holiday and who know that we only have five days of school left before two weeks off, but ALSO a large celestial body that plays havoc with moods and behavior.

Now, I can hear some of you scoffing -- full moon? Really? YES. REALLY. I was never one to put much stock in all of that mumbo-jumbo until I started working in the education sector. It, surprisingly, is true that full moons do mean more headaches (and work) for teachers, policemen, and hospitals. I would have never thought it was true, but every! single! time! my kids are acting like they've got no blasted sense at all, there's been a full moon.

Kids who normally are so well-behaved that I wish to clone them are acting up. Kids that I would have NEVER thought to have a note sent home to Mama are making some VERY poor choices. And not just the "I was talking when I should have been working" choices.... more like the "I hit her in the mouth because she looked at my eraser" choices. Like the "I cut my new school shirt up with scissors just because" kind of choices. I had one little boy CRY the other day because he didn't know where to sit on the carpet for story time. We sit in the same places every time we go to the carpet!

Nevermind the fact that there will probably be little to no actual REAL work this week -- there will be a lot of coloring, and lots of art projects, and on Thursday, we will be making individual gingerbread houses. On Friday, we will watch holiday movies, and allow the kids to come to school in their pajamas, and drink hot cocoa all day. That's really going to help all the hyperactivity.

Just five more days. Please don't let me go postal on anyone.

Is That Ethical?

I had to stay late after school today to attend an Ethics Seminar. Now, being educators, we have to adhere to certain rules about revealing/not revealing student information, and we are obligated BY LAW to report suspected abuse. These were things I already knew. Imagine our surprise when the presenters started putting up Power Point slides of things that have actually happened (either in our state or our district) as a "What NOT to Do" sort of lesson.

Apparently, it is unethical to:

*...have a Blood Alcohol Level of .314 while at work.

*...say you are doing a jewelry fundraiser for the school, but keep the money for yourself.

*...invite students to disrobe at the hotel pool while on a school trip.

*...quit in the middle of the day, leaving your keys and resignation letter taped to your classroom door.

*...refuse to come to work because you are in jail.

*... call a student and her mother derogatory names.

*...buy cocktails for students at the neighborhood bar-n-grill, even if it is after-hours.

Now, who in their right mind could have EVER thought any of this was a good idea? People, get a grip on reality!

Just Living

I'm here, though I don't have much worthy to post. (Except the stuff I *can't* post about, like the temper-tantrum, spoiled rotten kid I have this year....)

*Offspring has settled in to seventh grade -- it's hard to believe that she's already in seventh grade -- and seems to be enjoying seeing her friends, if not overjoyed at the idea of being back at school.

*Juggling Freak is ass-deep in alligators at work, which is necessitating long days and excessive crankiness from people who wish (and can't get) his services. It also makes him stumblingly tired. Poor guy... I just try to provide him with foot rubs to make it all better.

*I have a lot of craft projects to take pictures of and post, but I keep forgetting to do that.

*Why in blue blazes do middle schoolers need so many fricking binders and composition books?!? And what genius decided my daughter's school did NOT need lockers, meaning that they have to tote 20-pound bookbags around?

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Offspring Moment Of The Day: I was talking with her after school the other day, discussing her classes, and how she likes her teachers... all that sort of jazz... She was telling me about her French class, and I mentioned that I could help her with pronunciation, if she needed it. She mumbled, "Yeah...", clearly just responding, and not really *hearing* me. Then, light dawned -- "Hey! Yeah! You *can * help me!" The other shoe dropped, and she remembered that French was my language in school.

A Seizure Waiting To Happen

As I mentioned a post or two ago, teachers are already back at work here in HumidityLikeABrickWall. A lot of changes have taken place in my school since summer break. A lot of classes were shuffled around; we got a lot of new staff members; and a lot of maintenance was done on the grounds while we were away. We got some technological upgrades, and some building beautification projects were done.

One that went horribly, horribly wrong was the ladies' room near my new classroom. Before, the bathroom was your typical institutional bathroom: tile walls and floor, steel stall, gurgling toilet. It was painted in nondescript colors, and it was always slightly dusty-smelling. Like I said, your typical elementary school bathroom. By virtue of being an adults-only bathroom, it at least was not subjected to the constant pervasive smell of urine like the kids' toilets. Most adults have better aim. *Most* adults.

After lunch on Monday (and a 32oz. glass of lemonade), I developed a need to use the facilities and went down the hall. Upon entering the bathroom, however, the need to go suddenly evaporated. I was so shocked by the changes that all thoughts of evacuation left me. Some of us may go to the bathroom for a few minutes to calm down, or it may be the one chance during the day that we get to ourselves -- how can they *do* this to us?!

All I could think, with the paint job and the flickering fluorescent lighting, was: "This is a seizure waiting to happen." Either that, or someone watches *waaaay* too much Nickelodeon. I was horrified beyond the need to pee. And that's saying something.



I'm now scared to go to the bathroom. I guess I'll just have to hold it until I get home.

Back to the Daily Grind

Today was the first day back at school for teachers here in HumidityLikeABrickWall. Can you hear the joy dripping from my fingertips as I write that?

I slept about two hours last night, fighting my yearly "night owl readjusts to work schedule" battle. I was a mite tired today, and finally asked Juggling Freak to oblige me with a 30-minute catnap before making dinner this evening.

I hate the end of summer vacation, though I will appreciate the raise that will come with the dawning of a new school year. There's a lot to be done in the week before students arrive... On tomorrow's to-do list: die cut pieces for my door display, find a small bookshelf for my storybooks, die cut buses for cubby tags, and go through the mounds of crap in my bottom desk drawer and get rid of a lot of it.

Thursday is Open House for Offspring. We'll be attending to get her bus assignment and bus arrival time. Until then, she's marking time on the couch with her laptop and her last few hours of freedom.

Now, if we could only get rid of the torrential rain, we'd be good.

A Bit Problematic

Our school was on the last tax referendum to get a new wing. We've all been very excited at the prospect of moving out of our dinky trailers and into real! actual! classrooms! Even though our building won't be ready until the 2010 - 2011 school year, the land has to be cleared and readied for construction. Next year will be the "clearing and readying the land" year. The *following* year will be the construction year. (Though why it takes two full years to clear the land and construct a building, I'll never know. After all, it is the government. I suppose I should have expected that.) Which, as far as we're concerned, means that as many people as possible had to be housed inside the main school building for this coming school year. So, the great classroom shuffle has begun.

We're moving from our teeny little double-wide trailer (actually only ONE-HALF of a dinky little double-wide trailer) to this humongous (former second-grade) classroom. The only problem is that the powers that be scheduled the floors to be cleaned and waxed. That means that all the furniture has to be placed on the one small carpeted area. Normally, this wouldn't present a problem, but it means that the former teacher who occupied that room has yet to move all of her furniture out, because the room that she's moving to has yet to have the floors done. That in turn means that we can't move our stuff in because her stuff is still taking up most of the space. And the trash left on the floor! Oooh, we won't even go into that.

But, for now, it looks like I'm going to be next door to a teacher that I've grown fairly close to over this year. Hope things stay that way, and that there are no further upheavals in my schedule.

Pray For My Sanity

I'm headed off to the beach today, with my rambunctious little charges in tow. Everyone pray that no one drowns. Or that I have the urge to drown anyone.

Edited to add:

Back from the beach. No one died, though we did end up leaving two students behind at school who thought they didn't have to actually *do* the work we assign in class. Little did they know! Kids got soaked and sandy. I got a parking ticket. Hoo-freaking-ray. We saw little crabs and bivalves in the tidal pools, and watched a lifeguard chuck a jellyfish over the jetty to keep it away from nosy little fingers.

So, no one died, and no one got hurt. All in all, a successful field trip.

A Rant, Sort of About Fat

My school system, like most, went on a crusade not too long ago about finding ways to combat childhood obesity. The nutrition program did away totally with white bread -- all the rolls they serve are wheat, and even the crust on pizza is wheat. They stopped serving "junk" food as often, like pizza and hot dogs, and started branching out with more spices and flavorings. So far the change has been positive, for the most part.

Quite a lot of our students get school lunch, but since a lot of them are economically disadvantaged, we have a fair number who get their meals either at a greatly reduced rate, or for free altogether. We also have a breakfast program that makes sure the kids have a hot breakfast in the morning to get their systems going. Most of our students eat everything you put in front of them. Grits, eggs, toast, pizza, vegetables, salisbury steak, whatever.

My one gripe is that the cafeteria has these little frozen dessert cups, kind of like Italian ices. They SELL these on the side. This is the one thing that they really make money on, so they push them pretty hard. At fifty cents each, they don't sound like much, but when a "discounted lunch" student can get an entire lunch for less than that, that's pretty hefty.

We have kids who'll go through the lunch line and get a slice of pizza (or whatever that day's entree is) and nothing else, and two of these stupid icee cups. They then proceed to eat nothing but the icee, and leave the pizza untouched. Now, you and I both know that these icees no nutritional value whatsoever, but these kids don't care about that. They want the sweet stuff, and they don't care if they're supposed to eat their lunch first or not.

What burns me up the most about it is not that the kid is eating sweets -- they're KIDS! They're going to do that! What really frosts my noonies is that if you were to take it away from them, you'd have a parent in your face so fast that your head would spin! I actually had a parent tell me one time that he didn't care if his kid ate only ice cream, because he'd be getting *some* nutrition. My thought was, "That's what the LUNCH you're getting for ***FREE*** is for!" Explain that to me! Explain why you think that the balanced lunch that you get for free (which is subsidized by our local taxes, by the way) is not nearly as healthful as a cup of lime sherbet?

Another kick in the pants is that our cafeteria knows that students only eating ice cups instead of lunch is a problem, yet they won't stop selling them because it makes them money. Yeah, that's really helping prevent childhood obesity.

A Conundrum

You know -- I love my job, I really do. I occasionally am less than thrilled with various aspects of my job, but the kids make it all worthwhile. I *love* seeing their faces light up when something they've been struggling with suddenly clicks for them. I love knowing that I helped make that happen.

My administrators have been full of good things to say about me lately, which makes me feel very good. It's always good to know that you're appreciated and that people think you're good at your job.

However, I have a sticky little problem that's niggling at me. A few days ago, my administrators offered me a chance to take on a job next year that would be ... hm ... how to say this .... um ... more challenging, but also a job that no one else wants. Now, the reason that they offered me the position was because they wanted a strong person in that capacity, and they thought I was the right person for the job. That's a nice gesture, but I'm afraid that the cons outweigh the positive here. The *bad* things about the position are that I would start off the year with a deficit -- I would have a lot more responsibility for no more pay or recognition. (Not that I'm only out for the accolades, but you know what I mean.) Also, I would have to work with another individual who is less than fond of me, and who would, most likely, treat me as a subordinate even though I'd be doing the lion's share of the work. Now, I'm not afraid of hard work, but I don't want this to be a set-up for me being dumped on for an entire year.

I told the admins that if they really need me to do that job for the next school year, I will but if I have any say in the matter, it would not be my first choice. Or second. In fact, it's last on my list. I just don't think I want to subject myself to it, but I have a very bad habit of second-guessing myself. Now, I'm wondering if my initial, knee-jerk reaction was the right one.

Working With Kids Is Never Boring

The kids are all aflutter, what with Christmas holidays coming up. They're most excited about tomorrow, because it's our last day at school until after the new year. This is typically a day where no actual work gets done. Kindergarten does a lot of coloring, we make holiday-themed ornaments, and we generally goof off. We're planning to show up to school in our jammies, and watch The Polar Express while drinking hot chocolate.

The older kids also have a variety of fun activities planned. As a group of fourth and fifth graders were leaving the building this afternoon, I overheard them discussing their plans for tomorrow:

"We're gonna play Ghetto Chess!"

"Ghetto Chess?" How you play dat?"

"Man, ain't you know? In Ghetto Chess, *black* goes first!"

The Fury of Children Scorned

My class was set to take a field trip today. We've been talking about the trip for a while now -- to a local pumpkin patch where the kids get to take a hayride and choose a small pumpkin of their very own. This trip was planned back in the early days of the school year, around eight weeks ago.

This morning, around 2am, our power went off due to the rain. I should have had a clue right there that things were not going to go as planned.

When I got up for the day, the skies were a pewter color, still steadily disgorging gigantic raindrops all over Creation. The puddles were large and numerous. The street gutters were choked with rain, stray papers, and the effluvia of fall -- pinecone bits, leaves, and a multitude of acorns.

At school, our trip was canceled, and could not, unfortunately, be rescheduled for a later time. The children were sorely disappointed, and moped for quite a while this morning. I asked my principal if I could make a quick trip to the neighborhood grocery store, to see if I might find something to liven up their dreary, non-field trip taking day.

I returned with two 99-cent bags of disposable gloves, a six-pack of microwave popcorn, and a medium-sized bag of candy corn. Six bags of popcorn later, the children were all smiling as they brandished Monster Hands at each other. It may not make up for missing a cool field trip (though I've been on it so many times that I really wasn't all that sad to miss it....) but at least it made a dismally rainy Friday a little bit better.