To teacher: A love note. Question mark?

The first ten minutes of class I have my students write in a journal.  You know, kind of like Freedom Writers.  Minus the gangs and the big black kids because I teach in Utah so we only have big white kids.  Oh, and minus the failed marriage.  Sorry students, I like you and all, but I ain't ever gonna sacrifice my marriage for you.

Sometimes I give the young uns prompts for their journals, other days are open- they can write about whatever they want.  Today was an open day.  After students finish their writing, I always allow students to share if they want.  I don't exactly know why I do this except for that I feel like it is a good idea and I'm sure there's some kind of educational research somewhere that supports my claim.  Public speaking and reading aloud and class unity and all that jazz.  (Also, I have no idea why I suddenly feel like I have to defend my teaching practices on my blog.)

After their writing today, students were unusually excited to share their writing.  First Shayla shared about how nervous she was for Dance Co. Tryouts.  Then Adam shared about how he learned how to catch and even gut his own fish this summer.  Next Keenan shared a rather long and extensive list of every death metal band that he likes.

Last, Ezra raised his hand.  Shyly, as if he wasn't quite sure he wanted to share, but knew he should.

"Ezra, you're up!"  I called.  I'm kind of like Bob Barker in my classroom, try to imagine it.
Ezra hesitated, licked his lips, and then started slowly,

"Dear Teacher.  Why do you keep staring at me?  I notice you looking at me while I'm writing this as if I committed some kind of crime.  I didn't do anything I promise.  Or is it because you think I am so hot that you keep looking at me?"

Naturally, the class erupted in laughter and Ezra got his two seconds of fame that he so desperately desired.  I replied, "That's all you wrote in ten minutes?"  He nodded proudly.

For the record, I was looking at Ezra because he was off task.  Someone's gotta keep those students working!

On another note, in an essay I had students write the first week of school I asked them what they felt was the most important thing they had learned in their last year's English class.  Nick, who had me for English last year, wrote in his essay, "I learned some really good things last year.  I've learned some lessons the hard way.  For example, you actually have to read an assigned book.  And that Sparknotes can only take you so far."

Thank you Nick.  I'm glad to know that my teaching has made a difference in your life.

(P.S.  Ezra's isn't the first "half love note" that I've received!  Last year's was more cryptic, but more romantic, no doubt!)

The little angels are at it again.

I swear, these seventeen year old darlings write my blog posts for me.

School has been in session for a mere four days and already I am stockpiling the sweet nectar that leaves these teenagers' mouths for when I'm bone dry in the desert thirsting for a post idea.

Was that sentence a little hard for you to follow? Yah. Me too.

Two students who sit next to each other in third period.
  These young bucks come in all shapes and sizes nowadays, I tell you what!

When asked to write down what their favorite things were to do, one student answered, "I like 1. Cars 2. Girls 3. Being a Hoodlum."

Which begs the question... 

What exactly constitutes for being a hoodlum?  

And can your English teacher be a hoodlum too?  

Sounds a heck of a lot better than lesson plans...

When asked to share their favorite experience of the summer:

"The best thing that happened to me this summer was I got my first kiss from a girl... who is not my relative."

Naturally my mind started racing... 

how many cousins has this kid made out with?

"This summer I got in a fight with a kid.  His name was Ceasar.  He punched me in the face and fractured my nose.  It was actually a good thing because my nose was born fractured (born fractured?!?) and my whole life it would just start randomly bleeding all the time.  Ever since Ceasar punched it back into place I haven't had one nose bleed!  I lost the fight but it was actually a good thing because his nose punch was a lot cheaper than surgery."

Amen to that!  A nose punch for everyone!

I don't want to be be premature, but I do believe it's going to be a good year.

From the mouth of teens

Well I'll be!

I done near forgot about our giveaway last week!  Remember darling Elissa with these prints? 

I never announced the winner for that adorable giveaway!  The plan was to get a winner by Saturday... but Saturday was smack in the middle of Memorial Day weekend and I wasn't thinking about no giveaway.  Then the week started and it was extra credit and grades and attendance and cleaning out cupboards and last day of school and graduation and I'm about to lose my freaking mind!

So there was no winner.

But now there is a winner.

Because I rememered.  And it's better late than never my friends!

The winner of the print is Kara who said" I really like the "love is all you need" print or the "you are my forever favorite" print!"  Well, Kara, darling, you are in LUCK my lady friend because that print is now yours!  Shoot me an email at lifeofbon@gmail.com with your address and your pick of prints and we'll get that sweet bippy on it's way to you.

NOW.

For a matter of the UTMOST importance.

It's that time of year... SURVEY time!  The last few days of school I give my students surveys asking them to evaluate the class- telling me what things they liked about the class and what things they thought I could improve on.  Last year's responses were pure gold and this year's were not far off.  

AND NOW WITHOUT FURTHER ADO...

From The Mouth of Babes Teens

unfiltered, unedited, unscripted

(and with an occasional commentary by yours truly)

Who would think these harmless boys could be such critics?!?

List the things you like about this teacher.  What things have gone well?

- She was funny-ish. (ISH?!?!  COME ON, PEOPLE!)

- I don't think I ever payed attention but Teacher is good at teaching us. (And yet you never paid attention?...)

- This teacher is funny and cracks a couple of jokes.  (A couple?!?  Come on!  I crack em every single day!)

-she doesn't yell all the time. 

-happy (most of the time ;))

-She tries to get to know the students insteaed of just teach and get over it.

-she's a young teacher and she's still fun.. like, she even has a twitter.  That just makes her a Bad A teacher!

-She's really nice and doesn't make me want to hurl myself off a cliff.

-Room is cozy

- My grades until 4th quarter

What could the teacher do differently to help students have a more positive experience?

-"five-ten minutes free time at the end of class. remember humans are like dogs you let them off the leash every now and then, then they'll do as you ask"  (I couldn't get over the elaborateness of this one.  If nothing else I taught them the power of figurative language, right?!?)

-No More ESSAYS!! they suck....

- less reading (Ummm... you do realize this is a reading and writing class, right?)

- stay on topic but getting off topic a little bit is what makes her great (totally contradicting itself)

- Nothing just keep bein' chill.  But maybe when kids are fixing their hair by using their phone..it'd be cool if you didn't take it away! ha.. (Want to know the full story?  Go here.)

-more movies

- elemenate animal farm. (Can't help but be ashamed of the spelling)

- The tests felt overly specific.  For example the Great Gatsby test had a question about how much a pearl bracelet cost.  WTF?!?!  Why would I care about the price of a pearl necklace?!?!

- More food!!!!

- do not Read Animal farm!!!!


Aren't you glad that you don't have seventeen year old critics?

The Wife of a Comedian

Tonight is Hubs' comedy show.

That usually means that approximately three hours before the show I get a text that says,

"Bon, can you bring a clean pair of jeans to the show tonight?"

And I say yes.

Four minutes later, I get another text.

"Could you also bring a pillow... and hershey syrup?"

And I say yes, but this time a little less willingly, because I'm going to have to go buy the hershey syrup.

 Another two minutes pass before I invariably get another text.

"And also my cop outfit?  I need the short shorts, the tight black shirt, the aviators, the gym shoes and the whitey tighties.  I'll make it up to you I promise."

This is always followed immediately by a text that reads,

"Can you bring that stuff right now?"

Yes. My husband just requested whitey tighties.  Now.  A whitey tightie emergency, if you will.

That's the life of the wife of a comedian the day of a show.  It ain't easy, folksies, but someone has got to do it and that someone is me!

I know I posted this yesterday.
But just in case you are wondering about his "cop outfit."
This is it.

The first picture ever taken of Hubs and me. 
August 2010.
At this point we were just flirting.
Who would have ever thought it would turn into me delivering his whitey tigthies for him?

Always making me laugh.
Always.
This same night we went to a fair, held hands, and watched the fireworks.
Hubs said to me, "Let's not break up."
And I said, "You got it Mr!"

In other news, the overhead projector screen at school fell when I was trying to roll it up.  It came crashing into me with a hard thud.  Those sophomore girls screamed bloody murder, you'd of thought they'd seen a pack of ghosts emerging from the screen the way the yelled fit to beat Betsy.  Now I've got a nice scratch on my hand and a mean bruise on my knee. 

Needless to say, I demanded a new screen. 

The custodians are on it.

Did you know that I carpool to school?  It is both awesome and awful.  Today our conversation consisted of Jamie telling us about her two best friends, one who had had multiple affairs on her husband, and one who was in a marriage where the husband ignored her all day and was emotionally abusive.  Brad, the other carpool buddy, was strangely riled up about the man who ignored his wife and said that he is "scum" and hopes he "burns in hell."  I agreed it wasn't the best thing to do to a woman, but that if we were going to talk hell logistics here, surely the lady who had an affair would be burning much hotter.  Brad disagreed, seeming to think that men are held accountable to a higer level than women. 

And that was what we talked about for nearing on sixty minutes.

Oh, the lives we lead!

Now, if you don't mind, I've got a husband who is begging me to run his underwear over to him.  And you better believe I'm a good wife, so I'm peacing out.

Adieu!
Adieu!
Adieu!

(P.S.  Have you thought about becoming a May sponsor?  Check it out.  The spots are filling up piping fast! Piping, you hear?!?)
 

What would you name YOUR poem?

The recent title of a poem, written by one of my favorite seventeen year old Einsteins:

"A lovely poem about a boy in Texas who wanted to hunt for ducks but falls off of a tree and hurts his knee instead."

I mean, come on, who wouldn't want to read the poem after that epic title?!?

(I hate the word epic to the point that I wrote an entire post about it once, and some of you may feel betrayed that I have used that word today.  However, in my quest for satire and witty sarcasm within this post, I feel that the term is justified.  So if you've got a problem with it, take it up with someone else!)

Choose the right... kind of.

Sometimes I don't know what to write on my blog.

Sometimes I have to think and think and be real creative and try real hard to find something interesting enough to write about every day.

Sometimes my blog posts are strained and take hours to write because I have no ideas, no inspiration, nothing of note.

Today is not that day.

My blog inspiration came crashing into me at 100 mph an hour this afternoon.

I was at church.

It might not be the kind of inspiration you think.

You see, I was waiting for Relief Society to start when Michele and her hubby grabbed me and said, "Look at this! These are hilarious!"

They were staring at a huge bulletin board with pictures of children. On the top of the board was the header "Choose the Right".  Under each child's picture was a small piece of paper saying what that child has done to choose the right.  "I helped my gramma", "I cleaned up", "I said thank you", etc. 

A couple of children appeared to be more devious, however.  "You gotta look at this one!" Michele explained and directed my eyes to a future hood rat, no doubt.

In case you can't read the writing, it reads "Nathan has chosen the right by..... Punching my brother instead of dragging him down the stairs."

The three of us had a good laugh.  Since when was punching less of a sin than dragging?  And how did this kid have the audacity to think for one second that he could brag at church of all places about punching his brother?  and

Then Michele's hubby exclaimed, "And look at this one!" 

What I saw staring back at me was the face of my very own darling nephew. (Also the same nephew who spent $6 on cotton candy at a Jazz game, ratted out his older brother for being bossy, and ran laps around In-N-Out)  My sister and her family share the church building that we meet in, so it came as no great suprise to me to see his face plastered on the bulletin board.



The caption reads, "Eli has chosen the right by: hurting Davy (he deserved it)."

Davy, for the record, is my other nephew. Eli's younger brother.



I laughed and laughed, happily admitting to Michele and hubby that I was the proud aunt of that young buck. 

What I really want to know, though, is who is the teacher who approved of these messages?  They had to go through some kind of screening process, right? Some kind of editing?  Who is this Sunday school teacher who looked at these and said, "Yes, Eli, you did choose the right by hurting Davy!  Yes, Nathan, you did choose the right by punching your brother!"

It's a sick, sick world we live in, people.

Speaking of sick, the Jazz lost in quadruple overtime to the Hawks tonight.  QUADRUPLE!  Who has even ever heard of such a thing?!?!

Teacher for the Day

WARNING- Picture and post have no correlation.
But who doesn't love a picture in curlers?!?!

I told Gail (also the same girl who mixed up whore's and horse) that she was in charge of the classroom today.

"I'm not feeling well, and school's almost out, so from here on out Gail is running the joint!"

(Don't be alarmed- all part of a kick butt introduction to Animal Farm.  An experiment in what happens when someone gets too much power, you know how it goes.)

"Really?"  Gail's big eyes lit up with delight. "I'm in charge?!?!'

"You better believe it. Get up there, Gail, you're the teacher."

Gail took her rightful place at the head of the classroom, still somewhat unsure.  "So I'm supposed to act like you?"

"Yep."

Gail paused for a moment, apparently still unsure what to do. Then, an idea seemed to dawn on her.  The sixteen year old placed her hands on her hips, gave her hair a sassy little flip and said in a falsetto voice, "If you guys do not all shut up right now, I swear I am going to strangle every one of you!"

The class roared with laughter.  Absolutely ROARED. I have NEVER seen teenagers like this.  Every single person in the classroom was laughing. Except me.

Good to know the impression that I make on my students.

And just for the record...

I would never really strangle them.

You believe me, don't you?

The sub did what?!?!

Whenever I've been gone from school I am anxious to get back to my students and hear how the sub was.  Teenagers' reactions to subs are usually along the following:
"Umm... that sub was mean! She didn't let me talk at all! She seriously HATED me!"
"Where did you find that sub? He was so old and decrepit I thought he would fall over."
"Oh my gosh, that sub was FAT!"
"Worst sub I've ever seen! She didn't know anything and she confused us all, and then she tried to teach us grammar, but she basically just untaught us everything you already taught us, so now you're going to have to teach us again."
"I don't think that sub could hear. And he left the room for half the class period."
"Please don't ever get that sub again. I did NOT like the way she dressed."

And now you know the types of things that are important to teenagers.

Unfortunately, their idea of a good sub isn't exactly helpful:
"Next time could you get us a hot, young sub? Those are our favorites."

Yah, alright guys, I'll try to keep that in mind next time.

Wednesday, back from my little vay-cay in Vegas, I was anxious to hear about the sub.

There were assorted murmurs of approval, "Yah, she was good".... "I liked her" ... "She's really nice"...  Chase, however, didn't join in.  Instead, he just sat in the back and giggled.  Now, I don't usually use the word giggle for a boy, because, well, hello, it just sounds weird on a man.  But I'll tell you, this boy was definitely giggling. High pitched, uncontrollable giggles.

Finally, he spoke up.
"Teacher, I have to tell you something!"
"What is it, Chase?" This was clearly important.
"The sub..." He paused, trying to control them crazy giggles.  The students around him were laughing, too.  "The sub...she..." more giggles....  "The sub walked by us and she... she... SHE FARTED!"  And with that last word, Chase was gone, lost to his unconquerable fit of the giggles.

The students around him confirmed it. "She did! We all heard her!"

Dubious, I conducted some interrogation.  "Are you sure it wasn't her shoe, or a desk or something?"
All kids shook their heads emphatically.
"No, it wasn't! We're certain!"
"How are you so sure?"
"She said 'Excuse me'!" One kid chimed in.

And then I had to join in with those kids, throwing my head back and having a long, hard laugh.

Because I don't care who you are.

That's funny.

Admit it. Just looking at my students you can tell they're awesome.

Ed Part II/ Women are crazy

Remember when I wrote about Ed?  His opening line to his critical analysis essay was this:

We all know that women are crazy.

Well, today I had the pleasure of reading and grading Ed's essay in its entirety.  And let me tell you what, it was a pleasure!

Just to give you a little taste, here is one especially rich paragraph, word for word, spelling, grammar, punctuation completely in tact:  (The essay prompt was to analyze the reasons why the narrator of the story goes insane.)

Back then the men had to work and pay for everything like bills, food, Rent and clothes for him and thire wife’s if they had one.  Most women back them would be washing, cleaning “In” side their house’s with nothing else to do but that.  That’s why most women go insane like my Mom because, If you don’t take her out for the weekends she will be so grumpy for at least 3-5 week and it’s not good when shes grumpy because she makes me do so much stuff like clean her car even though it’s already clean and clean both bathrooms and so much more.  Man I feel like a women that go insane without going out with friends and all that fun stuff I like to do and that’s why most women go insane!!

And now you know why I love my job.

WARNING: 
This is what will happen if you don't
"take us out for the weekends."
Grumpy conditions will last at least 3-5 weeks.

P.S.  DON'T FORGET!  YOU HAVE FIVE HOURS LEFT TO ENTER THE LEAP YEAR GIVEAWAY.  IT ENDS AT MIDNIGHT. 

***Secret:  I won't actually do the drawing until tomorrow night.  If you entered the drawing during the day tomorrow (Thursday), I'd probably let it slip and throw you in the drawing anyway!***

I cannot stop touching...

...my hair!  My hair!  My hair!

Touch touch touch, all I want to do is touch my hair my hair hair hair.

It's short, it's light, it's low maintenance- everything I require from a good haircut.

I'm pretty much obsessed with it.

I just can't do long hair.  I can't.  Please don't make me ever try that again  Long hair is for people who don't wake up at 5:55.  Long hair is for people who have thick, beautiful tresses that holds a curl.  Long hair is for people with patience.

Short hair is for people who only give themselves four minutes to get ready every morning.  Short hair is for people who like to shake their strands around and whip it to and fro like a rocker.  Short hair is for ME!

Something weird about cutting your hair when you teach high school is that you have to stand there while 240 pimply pent up pubescents slowly realize that something looks different about you today.  Some of my favorite responses the past two days:

"I thought you were a substitute!"

"Why'd you go and do a thing like that?"

"Oh my gosh, I didn't even recognize you."

(said in muddled whispers to another student) "Wow.  She looks way edgy."

"You look a lot older.  You won't be able to pass for a student anymore."

"Did your husband say you could do that?"

"You look a lot younger."

Male Student:  "I like your new do."  Me:  "Thank you."  Student:  "I got a new do too."  Me: "I like it.  It looks good."  Student:  "I like yours too."  Me:  "Thank you."  Student:  "I got a new do too."

"I dig it."

"Teacher, is that you?"

"Whoa.  Has your hair always been that color?"

Student:  "Oh wow, Chase is going to freak out when he sees it."  Me:  "Why."  Student:  "Because he's a freak!"

Yes, all pictures were taken by myself while sitting at my desk at school.  Not weird at all.  Yes, I am procrastinating grading essays, thanks for always calling me out.

P.S. Sorry about the plethora of pictures of just me lately.  I promise I will stop being so narcissistic as soon as my new haircut is no longer a novelty.  When that will happen, I cannot say.
P.P.S.  Don't forget to enter the awesome giveaway!  It closes February 29/March1 at midnight!  AKA Tomorrow night!

"More than eleven" and other important happenings

NEWS:   
A student came rushing into my classroom after lunch, excited and out of breath.  "Teacher!  Did you see all the cop cars outside?"

"Um... no... I didn't..."

"Yah!  They're everywhere!  We think it's a drug bust!  There were  more than eleven cop cars outside!"

Which makes me wonder, exactly how much is "more than eleven"? 

IN OTHER NEWS...
I was supposed to make my students nominate a prom queen and king this week.  Do these instructions seemed messed up to anyone else besides me?

Have students raise their hands if they want to be nominated?  That feels awkward.  And embarrassing.

SLOWLY eliminate the lowest voted nominee until we are left with one male and female nominee?  Does this seem like cruel and unusual punishment to anyone else besides me?

IN OTHER NEWS... 
Our heating bill for the month was $90.  NINETY BONES, FOLKS!  I about threw up all over the living room when I saw that number popping out at me.  Especially because Hubs and I could hold hands and stand in every room of our itty bitty apartment.  AND especially because after a steep electric bill last month I went crazy in February, not allowing the heat to be left on for more than ten minutes, constantly turning lights off, etc.  And yet somehow our bill was still higher!

Then it dawned on me.  Could this be the baths' fault?  I have been averaging at least one hot bubble bath a day for the month of February.  I can't help it.  I come home exhausted from work, and all I want to do is melt into a hot bath.  Not only is it amazingly relaxing, but I figured I would save on heat if I just kept warming my body by submerging it in scalding water instead of turning on the heat. 

Welp, looks like I just spent $90 on bubble baths. 

It was (almost) worth it.

***But I'm being serious here, does a water heater contribute to your electric bill?  Help me on this people!  I don't know a thing!  I'm just a little girl trying to be an adult and getting charged 90 bucks for electricity in the meantime.***

What had me laughing all weekend long...

On Friday at school I was trying to help my juniors crank out rockstar essays.

We just finished reading the short story "The Yellow Wallpaper" about a lady who is driven mad after she is prohibited from leaving the house, talking to anybody, or doing any kind of physical or mental work.

The essay prompt was this: What causes the narrator to go insane?  Analyze the difference events and situations in her life that cause her to spiral into a pit of madness.  What could have prohibited this insanity?

I walked my students through the five paragraph essay process.  First step, the introduction.  "Now the introduction is a piece of cake," I told them. "I know all of you guys can handle it.  First, you hook your audience and introduce the theme.  Then you introduce the story and author, and finally hit the audience with a debatable thesis that answers the prompt in its entirety and guides the rest of the essay.

Of course, what is easy to an English teacher who has loved reading and writing her entire life is not always easy to a group of sixteen year olds who are 30 minutes away from a weekend.

"Practice your first sentences!"  I commanded.  "Write a hook!  Something that introduces the topic of the essay but still makes me interested in the rest of the essay.  I'm going to come around and check your first sentences.  Get writing!"

They wrote furiously, inspiration flowing through their minds, motivated by such an excellent teacher.

Okay fine, I'll tell the truth.  About half of the class scribbled out a half hearted attempt.  The rest stared blankly and wondered why they had to be stuck with the English teacher who assigned so much writing.

As I walked around the room, I noticed Ed, a Hispanic transfer student who has said no more than two words in the three weeks that he has been in my class.

"How's your essay coming, Ed?  You got a good hook?  Have you figured out how to ease your audience in to the essay?"

Ed smiled ear to ear.  "Yah... I think I got a good one."

I read Ed's opening line,

We all know that women are crazy.


I looked at Ed, so obviously proud of his work, waiting for the affirmation from his teacher that he had written a killer opening line.  There were a lot of things I could have found wrong with that first sentence.  But the truth is, I had to hand it to Ed.  Looks like the kid has figured out what takes most men decades and insane girlfriends and failed marriages to discover.  


He's a smart boy.

I salute you, Campus Policemen!

Happy Valentine's Day to all- and to all a good night!

Hubs and I had a quiet, peaceful Valentine's Day.

We went out to our favorite Mexican restaurant, Joe Vera's, gorged ourselves in chips and salsa, sipped soda until we were going to puke, hunkered down on juicy steaks, and then somehow found an entirely different stomach to fit in a little deep fried ice cream.

While eating we watched youtube videos of the phenomenon that is Jeremy Lin and talked about how we are going to survive now that the Jazz no longer have a winning record.

Were we made for each other or what?

On a completely unrelated note, every couple of weeks, my alma mater, BYU, releases a police report with their newspaper.  (I feel like this sentence has way too many commas, but for the life of me, I can't figure out which ones are unnecessary.  HELP!)  You know- criminal activity, drug cartel, the many rapes and murders.  I should warn you beforehand, this is a private religious university in a religious college town.  Let's just say the cops don't have as much to keep them busy as one would hope.  (Hence, my extensive history with traffic tickets.)

And now, without further ado, I present to you....
 

THE POLICE BEAT

Theft
Feb. 8 – A student reported his bike stolen from the JSB bike lot. The lost bike and specialized helmet were worth about $350. The student said he did not lock the bike.

Feb. 10 – A student reported his bike stolen from the new Heritage Hall area. He said he did not lock the bike because he lost the lock.

Feb. 12 – A female student reported her iPhone stolen at the Cannon Center. While eating in the cafeteria, she left her phone on the table and went to get more food. When she came back, the iPhone was gone.

Verbal Altercation
Feb. 8 – Two male individuals were reported having a verbal altercation in the Smith Fieldhouse. One of them was a student, the other was not. They were arguing about a girl they both knew and dated.

Missing
Feb. 8 – An 11-year-old boy was reported missing at the Smith Fieldhouse by his father. They occasionally come to work out together. A BYU police officer was dispatched. A custodian reported the missing boy, who was wandering around in the building, to the officer. There was no crime and the boy was reunited with his family.

Feb. 12 – A husband resident of Wymount Terrace reported a missing wife. He told the officer his wife had not come back from grocery shopping. During the interview, the wife walked into the room.

Criminal mischief
Feb. 14 – Graffiti was found on a metal pole at the point of Maeser Hill. It was soon removed.

Animals
Feb. 8 – A deer was caught in the metal fence around the BYU Student Health Center area. The deer was soon freed.

Wow, rough week on the job for the Provo police, huh?  What, with the woman missing at the grocery store, the deer caught in the fence, and the two boys arguing over a chick they both liked, I don't know how those policemen survived!

My favorite line:  "A husband resident of Wymount Terrace".  What exactly is a husband resident?  And how does that differ from an aunt resident?  How about a grandpa resident?

A most romantic conversation

Today is Valentine's Day.

Naturally, Hubs and I have been having many romantic, sexy conversations all day long.

POR EJEMPLO:
Hubs and I were talking about a certain celebrity that Hubs is not a fan of.  His exact words:

"I would rather make out with a good looking man than make out with that woman because she looks just like an ugly man."

I mean, does this guy know how to talk sweet or what?!?

Doesn't get much sexier than this, does it people?

Excuses Excuses

From the corner of my eye I could see James fiddling suspiciously under his desk.  I'd seen this a million times before and don't you think for a second I was tricked by what was going on.  This wasn't some innocent thumb twiddling, oh, no, no.

It was texting!  In class!

My poor, deprived students aren't allowed to use their electronics at all in my class.  Can you imagine having a teacher so strict?!  It must be so hard on the poor little darlings!  Really, I don't know how they cope!

"James give me your phone and you can have it back after school." I said before he could even realize what was going on.
"What?"  James jerked up, faking dumb.  Oh please, I have seen that fake dumb look countless times in my life.
"I know you're using your phone under there."
"Yah, but I wasn't texti--"
"James, either give me the phone now or you can go down and talk to the vice principal about it, I don't really care either way."

That shut him up quick.  All you've got to do with teenagers these days is raise your voice a bit and mention a vice principal and those kids would lick garbage if you asked them to.

No, I'm not power hungry, why do you ask?

James handed over the phone reluctantly, whining as he did so, "What am I supposed to do in seminary now?"

I'm sorry to tell you, my friend, but that is not my problem.

The instant the bell rang at the end of the day, James was in my classroom begging for the phone back.  I'm such a Hard A though, I make my students write me an apology letter before I'll ever return their beloved electronic.  You know, something along the lines of "I am so so sorry I showed grave disrespect to you and your rules by using my cell phone.  You are such a fantastic teacher and I'm an idiot for not being totally immersed in your lesson anyway, and I hereby and hereforth vow to never pull out my phone in your class again. Amen and Amen!" 

You know, something along those lines.

Somehow, James apology note topped all the previous ones:

Dear Teacher,

I can't believe you took away my phone, I thought I was your favorite student.  After all, you're my favorite teacher.  Anyway, me and Brad were comparing abs (mine are better) and that's when you saw us and took away my phone (and didn't take away Brad's!) It's okay though, I know I'm probably still your favorite.  It won't happen again.

Yep.  Best excuse note ever.  My favorite part is when he says "It's okay"  as though I was nervous that I wasn't going to be his favorite because I took his phone away.  Please, James, I'm not nervous about nothing!

Now, if you've got 15 minutes to burn, I invite you to partake in my acting debut.  Below is Hubs and his comedy club and their digital short series, "Stages."  It is the story of how they formed their club.  Supposedly I'm the evil one who is duping Hubs into believing that I am in love with him, but really I just want to destroy the club.  Sounds like me, doesn't it?

Highlights include me stuffing a Saltine cracker in Hubs' mouth and a Harry Potter wand fight.  You can't ask for much more than that, people.

What do you think? Do I give Hubs a run for his money in acting?!?!

Just a little mistake...

On the whiteboard I had written three words:

"A whore's vengeance."

(Not my own words, a direct quote from Arthur Miller's The Crucible, mind you.)

My class was riveted, alive with deep thoughts and intelligent insights.  Is Abigail deserving of the name whore?  Is this really all about vengeance, or is there something more lurking underneath the surface?  How does one person's desire for revenge infect the entire community? Oh, we were digging deep, we were.

Then the bell rang, my juniors gathered up their books and shuffled out of the classroom, and in pounced my sophomores.  Oh, sophomores.  So energetic.  So unsuspecting.  So dumb.

I dived into my sophomore lesson, completely forgetting about the words that were left on the board.  We read, we took a quiz, we immersed ourselves in a heavy discussion.

Out of nowhere I heard Gail's peppy voice from the back row, "What does 'whore's' mean?"
I realized at once what she was looking at- my forgotten quote on the board.  "Is that like a horse?"

The class erupted in laughter.

I, myself, could not contain my own giggles.

And so I answered the only thing I could.  "Yes.  Yes, Gail.  That's exactly what it is."

Because afterall, who am I to tell little Gail the difference in a whore and a horse?



Abigail Williams... a most notorious horse whore.



How I know I'm not sexy

The realization came to me hard and quick yesterday. 

Like a ton of bricks being dropped from the sky.

I am smart, I am funny, I am good at conversations.

But.

I am not sexy.

Oh there were clues along the way.  Believe you me.  There were clues. 

Like when my dad used to tell me "Don't smile so big."

Or when I would have a crush on a cute boy and then he'd ask me if my best friend was dating anyone.

Or when I didn't kiss a boy all through high school.

Or when my brothers would introduce me to their friends by saying "this is my funny sister" but never "this is my cute sister."

Yes.  There were always clues.  But like any person who can't handle the truth about themselves, I for 25 years chose to ignore these clues and instead lodged them somewhere in the deep, dark abyss of my brain never to be retrieved.

Yesterday I could ignore the clues no longer.

The situation went like this.  I was lying on the couch in what I thought was a sexy pose.  Hubs was in the kitchen making a sandwich.  And because I was feeling particulary sexy for some reason, I made a sexy face to Hubs.  You know the face.  The "I love you, I want you, come here now!" face.

Hubs looked at me.

And then, in complete seriousness said to me,

"Are you trying to sneeze?"

And that was when I finally, absolutely, sincerely, genuinely, one hundred percent, without a doubt knew.

I am not sexy.


What, this doesn't do it for you, Hubs?



Just a lil grammar mistake...

Yesterday right before school got out, our principal came on the intercom:

"Attention students!  We have an urgent announcement!

A red backpack has been stoled!

It has very important files in it, and we need it to be returned immediately.

I repeat, A red backpack has been stoled!"

Maybe if he had only said it once, my class and I would have been more forgiving of the error.  But he didn't.  And we weren't. We had a good, hearty laugh and collectively decided that our school was doomed.

But what else can you expect from a boy born and raised in Scipio?

Tell me how you really feel

I recently graded the students' first writing assignment of the year.  The prompt was to tell me what the purpose of reading and writing is in the world, why it's important, what their past experiences with writing have been, etc.  I got some real gems out of the kids.  Here are a few of my favorites: 

No, he is not really one of my students.  Yes, I wish he was. 

  
• "Language Arts makes me feel many ways. I feel that Language arts is boring, it makes me want to fall asleep, I feel like it’s never going to end."
• "Writing to me is also like cheerios. They might both be good for you but they both are boring and plain. Both Cheerios and writing are for old people. Writing and cheerios taste the same just like paper and cardboard."

• "It wasn’t easy coming up with our language. People making things like silent letters; come on who thinks of that?"

• "When I think about American Literature some things come to mind. Like how the Native Americans got screwed."

• "I think we should do away with writing altogether."

I got to say, though, I agree with the kid about the silent letters.  Those things are tricky little devils!

The darndest things

I'm starting a Shakespeare unit with my sophomores.  I decided to test the waters to see how much they know about the old man.  He's the greatest playwright of all time, they've got to know something about the guy, right?

Ah, he's a handsom fella, ain't he?

Wrong.

Me: "When was Shakespeare born, you guys?  Who knows or thinks they have a rough estimate?"

Kid #1: 1210!

Me:  No... you're off by a few hundred years there....

Kid #2:  1943! 

Me:  1943?!?!?!  You think Shakespeare was born during World War II?
Kid #2: That's not what I said.
Me: World War II was in 1943...
Kid #2:  Oh, I didn't know that...

Time to shift gears, I quickly realized.  I thought they would at least have a slight idea that he born around 1500 or 1600 but I was just so depressed that one kid guessed 300 years too early, and another guessed 400 years too late that I gave up and told them the answer (1564, for those of you who are wondering)  With an optimistic heart still in place, I decided to move on to plays that he has written.

Me:  What are some of Shakespeare's most famous plays?

Kid #3:  I know! I know!
Me:  What?
#3: (Looking as if he thinks he is absolutely brilliant) You're going to be so impressed that I know this- Romeo and Juliet!!!!
Me:  Good job.  You got the most famous piece of literature of all time. Must have been hard for you pull that one out.  Anyone know any others?  Maybe some that aren’t quite as well known?
Kid #4:  The one with the two cities?
Me: two cities?
#4:  Yah… I think it’s like A Tale of Two Cities or something
Me: (thinking the kid is an idiot, but not wanting to hurt his feelings) Well, that’s by Charles Dickens.... and it was written about 300 years after Shakespeare lived.... but they are both from England, so, good job, you got that part right… anyone else?
Kid #5:  I know I know!
Me: (Hoping and begging that this kid is going to redeem his class) Yes?
#5: That one with the little guy with the magic powers..
Me: (My mind is racing… could the guy be Puck?...Oh my gosh, I've got a genius admist the class!  Not only does he know about Puck, but he also has correctly identified the play we will be studying next!!!)  Midsummer Night’s Dream?
#5:  (As if it is a ludicrous suggestions) No!!!  Who's ever heard of that?...  The one where the guy can spin the princess’s hair into gold.
Me:  Gold!?!? (thinking, thinking, the only thing I've ever read where a guy can spin hair into gold is....)  Rumpelstiltsken?!?!?
#5:  Yah!  That one!!!!

And that's when I just started laughing.  What else could I do?  You can only seek brilliance for so long before you realize the quest is futile.  These poor kids, they ain't got a clue in the world.  In thier books, Shakespeare is just some weirdo guy from World War II who wrote Rumpelstiltsken.