Some Conversations You Wish You Didn't Overhear.....

I am fascinated by the snippets of conversation we hear in passing every day. There was a time when I swore that on BRAG I was going to write a poem consisting of the scraps of words I heard as people walked by my tent at night. But I never did, and then I stopped sleeping in a tent, and the only scraps of conversation I hear now are the words of Rozmo talking in her sleep. Oh well. It was a nice thought.

Today I was walking back to my classroom from the cafeteria, and I saw our resource officer (fancy name for a sheriff's deputy who works in the school) approaching the boys' bathroom on the main hall. He didn't look to be in a particular hurry, and I heard him greet a student as he walked in the bathroom. (And it occurred to me to wonder, does the resource officer just walk in there and do his business at the urinal while he chats with male students who might be in there? Because that just seems a little weird to me, but I'm neither a guy nor a cop, so what do I know?)

He said to the young man, "Hey, what cha doing?" Not in a challenging way, just one of those standard greetings that doesn't mean anything and doesn't even require a real answer. The boy could have said, "Nothing," and the exchange wouldn't have registered as a blip on my radar.

Instead, the young man's reply is burned into my brain cells and making me wish I had a "Delete" button, or maybe even a "Control/Alt/Delete" combination.

He either said, "Checking my zits" or "Picking my zits" (that's the danger with snippets of conversations, sometimes you can't be sure if what you think you heard is actually what you heard, but odds are the grossest words are the ones you can be absolutely certain of).

Perhaps I could write my poem based on hallway snippets instead of cycling/camping ones.

Shudder.

Dear Powers-that-Be.........

I'm tired of being cold.

It isn't even winter yet, and my classroom is FREEZING. Students come into my room from the hall, and almost to a person, they say, "Man, it's cold in here!" Or some similar rendition.

At which point I glare at them and offer up some similar (but much more professional) version of "No shit!"

I am an adult, I watch the weather forecast religiously every morning and every night, and I dress appropriately. When the weather person said this morning that our high temperature wouldn't get out of the 40's today (please stop hating me, all you people who live in much colder places -- this is GEORGIA we're talking about), I planned ahead. I ditched the outfit I had planned to wear today in favor of a much warmer one. I wore a cowl-neck sweater WITH a tank top underneath, black jeans (so what if it isn't Friday, they're probably going to fire me when I build a bonfire in the middle of my classroom anyway), socks and equestrian-looking boots. (Side note: I couldn't even WEAR those boots for the last two winters because my lower legs were too fat. Go me!) At the last minute I even threw on the crocheted scarf with the pockets on the ends that the Warrior Princess made for me a couple of years ago.

Thank you, Warrior Princess, you SAVED MY LIFE today.

I froze all day. I'm pretty sure the high temperature in my classroom was lower than the high temperature outside. Pretty sure.

There's this little box on the wall right above my desk with a sliding switch. It says "cooler" at the bottom and "warmer" at the top.

You aren't fooling me, Powers-that-Be. I know you just put a fake box on the wall because that freakin' thing DOES. NOT. WORK. I've got it all the way up to "warmer," and it just sits there and chuckles at me.

And while we're on the subject, you bunch of Communists, thanks for that new rule that prohibits teachers from having radios, microwaves, refrigerators, candles, and SPACE HEATERS in their rooms. I can understand the candles, since a veteran teacher almost burned down the newly built wing on one of the high schools, and I realize you are trying everything you can to cut costs, up to and including furloughing teachers for six days a year, but COME ON! I'm FREEZING here.

I'm pretty sure God did not put me in the South because he wanted me to freeze to death.

If you want me to retire early, just say so. You don't have to ice me.

Ice Queen aka Bragger

Action....Lights....

Yes, I realize that my words in the title are not in the correct order. There's a method to my madness. Whatever.

In our new building, the interior lights are motion-activated. Not just the hallways, but in the classrooms and bathrooms too. I realize they were installed as energy-saving features, and I appreciate them for that.

Sometimes, though, I find them a little disconcerting. Several times in the last few weeks I have been the first person to arrive, at least on my hall. (I know, right?) As I proceed down the hall, first the main one and then our little short one, the lights come on as I pass the sensors. But the timing is what creeps me out. The lights always come on JUST AS I've decided they aren't GOING to come on. It's that fraction of a second that I find just a little spooky. You would think I'd get used to it, the lights coming on while I'm walking (or rolling my bicycle) down the hall. But there's that one little tiny bit of hesitation every. single. morning.

The same is true of the lights in my classroom. Some mornings when I open the door and flip the light switches, the lights come on. Some mornings they don't come on until I'm walking around my desk. I haven't figured out the difference yet. I'm standing in approximately the same place every day when I turn on the lights, so I don't know why they come on immediately some days and not others.

I will have to say that the motion-activated lights can come in handy. We have carpet in the halls this year, which we haven't had before, and we could always hear someone approaching. Particularly our principal, who wears clip-cloppy heels a lot of the time. Not that we have any reason to FEAR her approaching, we could just tell when she was coming down the hall. And not that she has any reason to sneak up on us. Now, though, after a time delay of I don't know how long, the lights in the hall go off. If we are having a meeting or eating lunch and the lights come on, we know someone this way cometh. Maybe something wicked (a student) and maybe not (the principal or counselor). At least the students can't sneak past us, at least not when the lights are off.

I also like the fact that the bathroom lights are motion-activated, too, in addition to the classrooms and hallways. If the lights are off in the bathroom, we can safely assume the girls aren't huddled up in there, using their cell phones or plotting the demise of one of their classmates. Not that we wouldn't hear them anyway, because THEIR VOICES ARE SO DAMN LOUD. And I'm pretty sure not one of them is clever enough to note the location of the motion sensors and stand still long enough to make them go off.

I've decided that instead of being creeped out by the lights coming on when I walk down the hall, I'm going to put a regal twist on it. I'm going to pretend the lights are coming on like they would for royalty. Or at least someone famous.

Give me a break, it's the last brief moment of superiority I get to experience all day long, and it's over by 8:15.

Whack-a-Mole......

I was on the phone with my dear friend the Warrior Princess last night (whose son signed with the Texas Rangers but then decided to go to college after all, and I'm sorry I haven't updated THAT story lately), and I was trying to explain my level of exhaustion and puzzled about why.

It suddenly dawned on me why this school year I've been so tired so often and to such an enormous degree. (Can you have an enormous degree of tiredness? Please let me.)

I said to her, "I'm not teaching. You know that game at the kids' pizza joint? Whack a Mole? That's what I do. All. Day. Long."

If you're not familiar with Whack-a-Mole, here is a video clip to demonstrate.


Only in MY world, there are 20 moles. And they pop up with alarming speed and frequency. They also team up and pop up in twos, threes, fours, and fives.

"No, you can't go to the vending machine. You just came from lunch."  **WHACK!!**

"I don't know if the tampons Mrs. K____ has are 'super' or not, but you're welcome to go ask her." **WHACK!!**

"Please stop throwing Stephen's bookbag across the floor. This is a HIGH SCHOOL." **WHACK!!**

"You made a 64 the first time you took your topic test and a 48 the second time. The goal here is for you to get smarter." **WHACK!!**

"Please tell me that is not dip spit in that bottle. Are you out of your mind? That's an automatic suspension. Please enjoy your day off." **WHACK!!**

"Your mom is coming in Monday morning for a conference. Do you want me to base my comments to her on today's performance?" **WHACK!!**

"Get off that internet site and do your work." **WHACK!!**

"Please stop singing while you work. You're not one of the Seven Dwarfs, I'm not sure that is really singing, and you're getting on all our nerves." **WHACK!!**

"No, I will NOT look through your quiz with you and tell you which ones you missed BEFORE you submit it to be graded." **WHACK!!**

 "You must do your homework/practice if you expect to get a retake on a quiz." **WHACK!!**


This post cannot possibly convey how rapidfire all these things are happening in my room. And I promise you I did NOT make these up. This was just during the last period of the day! I feel like a whirling dervish. And this is only a small sampling. It was Friday, so many of our students took the day off. My colleagues and I are seriously considering getting some of those big inflatable Whack-a-Mole bats. Surely they can't fire us ALL.....

I'm disuausted. And it has nothing to do with the 18-mile bike ride home.

I Told You I Might Forget......

I just remembered something I was supposed to tell you from last week.

One of our students was pregnant and expecting sometime in June. I think she was in her 29th week when she went into labor last week. They tried to stop her labor, but they couldn't. On top of that, we already knew the baby was breech.

She went in for a Caesarean last week, and when I heard from her sister (also a student at our school), she said the baby was here, weighed 3 pounds 7 ounces, and was breathing on her own. A sweet baby girl named Sophia.

The next day the sister had pictures of the baby on her cell phone, and she wanted me to see them. She showed me how to scroll back and forth to see more pictures.

I scrolled too far.

Before she could grab the phone out of my hand, I was unfortunate enough to see a picture of a (maybe fully erect, maybe not) penis.

I would like to have that image laser-removed from my retinas, please.

I wanted to ask her, "Don't you know this is how your sister's trouble got started?"

The girl was embarrassed, and I was embarrassed. I don't know if she KNOWS I saw the picture, but I KNOW IT.

Please. For what reason could a teenaged girl have a picture of a penis on her cell phone? I mean, it's not like they are even pretty or anything.

Welcome to the island.

I Think I Can Give You a Diagnosis......

***Warning - This post may offend any of you diagnosed with or acquainted with anyone who has been diagnosed with bi-polar disorder, ADD, ADHD, panic attacks, or anxiety.***

If I have to sit through ONE MORE INTERVIEW with a teenager who wants to come to our school because he or she cannot deal with the "stress" of high school or experiences "panic attacks" in the lunchroom or needs to be away from the distractions of the traditional high school because he or she has ADD or ADHD or some other combination of those letters, I may. just. go. ballistic.

But I'll call it a panic attack, so it will be okay.

Please don't get me wrong. It's not that I am trivializing any of these disorders, nor do I think they don't exist. This rant post is aimed at those who want to put a label on their own poor behavior that somehow (in their minds) excuses that behavior. The ones who really get me are the ones who say they have been diagnosed with ADD, they have medication for it, but they don't really like taking the medicine. Oh, so you CHOOSE to be this way.

And the parents?

They buy into it, because it's much easier to blame a disorder than it is to do the hard work called parenting.

I sat and listened to a parent today who said her son needed to come to our school with its smaller environment because, "I had to go pick him up at school one day because he had a panic attack."

I tried to picture that happening when I was in school. I can just imagine them calling my mother AT WORK to come get me at school because I was having a PANIC ATTACK. When she got to the school, there would definitely be a panic attack going on. I would be in a panic to see just how fast I could get my ass back in that school rather than let Mama get her hands on me.

I take issue with teenagers being diagnosed with bipolar disorder, because the symptoms of bipolar disorder are "shifts in mood, energy, thinking, and behavior."

What a big old bag of duh. Those are the exact same symptoms of being a TEENAGER. I will again apologize in the event I am offending anyone who suffers from one of these disorders. It's teenagers and their parents' use of these labels to EXCUSE them that gets my goat.

What ever happened to "suck it up and go to school"?

My mother's favorite expression? "I'll give you something to be depressed ABOUT." (She doesn't believe in depression as an adult disorder, either.) I'm sensitive to people who suffer from depression, but I also realize that most of them find a way to be productive. Sitting in a corner and sucking their thumbs isn't an option, but a lot of the teens we deal with haven't been told that.

ADD? In my youth, Mama had a very effective way of making SURE we could devote our attention to tasks like chores and schoolwork. It was called a backhand, and she was ambidextrous when it came to employing it.

Hyperactive? By the time you get through scrubbing that floor, you won't have the energy to be hyper anymore. And if you do, I've got a long list of OTHER things you can do.

Anxiety? Try not having that house cleaned when I get home from work, and you will get to experience an entirely new level of anxiety.

I think I'll stop now before I offend every single person who stops by here. I apologize for my negative attitude. It was a long day in the School of Misfit Toys today.

Another Semester Gone.....

Today was our last day of school before Christmas Break. It's a little strange teaching where I do now, because we don't have the same end-of-the-semester finality that we had in the traditional school. If our students finish their course(s) early, they go ahead and take their cumulative exams (which has generated so many wrong pronunciations that we should have kept track of them). If they finish EVERYTHING early, they don't have to come anymore. If they DON'T finish but are close, they just finish up when we get back from Christmas. But we threaten them with dismissal if they don't earn enough credits, so several today were begging to be allowed to work over Christmas Break. Go ahead, kiddies, but don't expect to find ME on there.

Students never cease to amaze me with the energy they will expend (at great risk) to avoid doing their work. This week we discovered (sadly, almost by accident) that two students were logging in as each other. One was doing the other's biology work, and in exchange he was doing his Spanish (his parents are native speakers, and Spanish is spoken in the home). We decided to catch them at it, and sure enough, the next morning, one kid was logged in and working BEFORE HE EVEN ARRIVED AT SCHOOL!!!! When he ambled in to my classroom, I pulled his screen up on mine and watched as he logged in with another student's name. Took a snapshot of it on the computer and submitted that with the discipline referral.

Neither of those young men will be back with us next semester. They didn't earn enough credits to retain their seats, particularly after credit for those two courses was denied for academic dishonesty. And the REST of their courses are in question as far as I'm concerned. One of them, when he was informed that he would not be coming back to us next semester but could return to his traditional school, stormed out, saying WE had f***ed up his life. (He won't be able to graduate this year without those credits.) Then he went back to the classroom and destroyed a keyboard. Oddly enough, his twin brother IS coming back next semester.

We don't have the rush to grade final exams and submit grades before we leave for Christmas Break. Even though we are on the block semester system, we only submit grades at the end of the school year. Kids don't fail if they don't finish, and they don't start over the next semester. Of course if they have courses left over from the previous semester, they run the risk of not earning enough credits over the whole year to retain their seats for the next year.

I guess what I'm saying is that today was too CALM to be the last day before Christmas Break. I didn't have to clean out my refrigerator or unplug the microwave, since the b****rds won't let us have those in our classrooms anymore. The kids weren't wild, because MOST of the ones who were there were feeling the pinch and working like crazy. We had a couple who stayed until 2:00 and 3:00, even though students were technically dismissed at noon. (Not one girl, though, who said she couldn't take her cumulative exam because her mom needed her to do something at home. How about THOSE priorities?)

Our little team went to a local restaurant for drinks/snacks after school. Except for the staff member who said he had to leave early today and missed all the afternoon interviews of prospective students. His malady? He was sleepy. Oh, and the boss didn't come to our gathering. Again. At least this time she didn't CLAIM she wasn't invited.

Thankfully, even if it didn't FEEL like Christmas Break, it really is. Two blessed weeks away from school.

As of today, 269 school days to retirement. Unless they give us some more furlough days, in which case it's less than that.

Happy weekend!

Topsy Turvy Day.....

This was a perfectly normal day until about 5:15, when one of my co-workers called. According to our local paper (the real one, not the one with the entertaining police blotter), our program is moving. In December. Along with the alternative school program that is housed in the other part of our building.

To a location that cannot accommodate either program, let alone both of them. A location that has no parking, two classrooms, no gym for the alternative school to teach P.E., no computer access (at least to the degree our program requires). It probably won't pass fire codes.

What the hell is going on?

We think it spells doom for our program. We just don't know if the axe is going to fall in May at the end of the school year.

Or in December.

Holy crap.

I don't hate it so much for myself. If I have to retire early, I'll take a hit, but it won't be devastating. I won't be able to afford nearly as many toys and vacations probably won't be to Jamaica, but we won't go hungry or naked.

But what about my co-workers? What about the one whose husband wants to retire in a couple of years? What about the one who has just started on her Ph.D.? What about the one who not only is just starting his specialist program, but so is his wife?

What about our kids? Our students, who come to us because they don't feel they can survive in the traditional high school?

This all came out at the board meeting last night, and it hit the paper this afternoon.

Wonder why that's where we had to hear about it?

Getting the Hang of It......

Tomorrow we will wrap up our third week of school, and I'm getting into the swing of things. Every year is new, and every group of kids is different, particularly at our school. I still shudder to think back on that horrid first year..... Yikes. At least we have some room to pick and choose these days. These are the things I'm getting down pat so far:

• I'm learning which students you can joke around with.
  
• I'm also learning which students you should NEVER joke around with because they take that as a sign that you are friends with them, which I am definitely not.
  
• I already know that my 3rd period class is one time during the day I will have to get up and walk around the room, perhaps even pulling up a chair behind two students and doing my work in my lap, as I had to do today. Need I remind you that these kids are supposed to be engaged with their computers?
  
• I know which students are going to log off and pack up their belongings 10 minutes before the end of each class period.
• I'm figuring out which students are probably going to be late every day and which ones are going to write "Late" on their tardy slips on the line where they are supposed to give a REASON for being late.
• I know which students shouldn't be allowed to go to the restroom at the same time.
• I'm catching on to which students are going to consistently violate the dress code and then be pissed off if we ask them to fix it.
• I am aware that some students feel a sudden urge to go to the bathroom because some things just can't be conveyed in a text message and they actually need to talk. Oh, and text messaging is against the rules also.
• I know which students are going to stand out in the hall yakking until someone (usually me) comes out there and runs them into the classrooms.
• I know that subtlety is absolutely lost on a certain faculty member, and we are going to have to employ the sledgehammer technique with him.

Happy Friday tomorrow!

Senior Recognition Night.....

Tonight was the senior recognition dinner for our soon-to-be graduates. Because our students come from two different high schools, we like to have our own celebration at the end of the year. It's more for the teachers than for the students. It makes us forget -- for one evening -- just how aggravating some of them have been all year.

One girl who took three semesters to finish her last class -- P.E. -- showed up in a dress that left no doubt as to her physical fitness. Because I rarely think before I speak, when she came in and said to me, "Were we supposed to dress up? I'm kinda dressy," I replied, "No, you're KINDA dressed."

One family immediately began fighting over the lollipops that made up the centerpiece. Then they took the vase full of Skittles that held the centerpiece. Then other families followed suit.

One girl went up on stage barefoot to accept her goodie bag.

But one young man called all the teachers together at the end and told us how much he appreciated us and how awesome our school is. I didn't expect that, especially from him.

Those are the stories we like to remember.

Great Plans.........

I had such great plans today. I knew there wouldn't be many kids at school because it was the last day before Spring Break. I planned to keep up with my online grading so I could start the weekend with an empty dropbox. (Why does that sound a little obscene?) I didn't count on two of our kids being in a terrible wreck this morning. (They are fine.). They were on a school-sanctioned activity. For which we did not require permission slips. They are brother and sister, both under 18. I didn't count on my boss thinking it would be better for me to acccompany our services coordinator to the hospital instead of her going herself. I also didn't count on the Internet connect card I bought for the laptop being useless because we are in a no-service area. I didn't count on blogging with my thumbs. That's so 2009.

Dissection in the Loo.......

DISCLAIMER: DO NOT READ THIS POST IF YOU ARE EATING BREAKFAST. OR DINNER. OR A SNACK. OR ARE IN ANY WAY CURRENTLY CONNECTED TO OR INVOLVED WITH FOOD.


I used the word "loo" in deference to any British readers who may happen by here. Or Aussies. Do they call it the "loo" also?

We have a faculty restroom at our end of the building, and it's convenient to all five of our classrooms. There is another faculty restroom all the way at the front of the building, but I rarely use it because it's about three quarters of a mile away. Maybe not quite that far, but it involves several turns. It's also the restroom where a former paraprofessional admitted to sitting and eavesdropping on the assistant principal, because she could hear everything coming from that office. I don't want anyone to think that's why I'm in there, so I just don't go in there much. Plus the light switch is really high up on the wall, and I have to stand on my tiptoes to reach it. And when you turn on the water you might as well be taking a shower, because EVERY SINGLE TIME you're going to forget that the water in that particular bathroom comes on with a lot more force than it should. And you forget that because you rarely go into that bathroom. It's in the same room as the faculty mailboxes, and I rarely visit those either. Once a day, usually, when I sign in at the front office. Actually, teachers don't get much mail in their boxes anymore, not with the advent of email. Is that the correct use of the word "advent"?

Occasionally I might have to make a trip up to the office, however, and today was one of those days. I figured while I was up there, I would use the "loo" on that end of the building, just in case ours was occupied when I got back. With a staff of only 5, you'd be surprised how often two (or more) of us feel the urge to go at the same time.

Aren't you glad you stopped by here?

There are catalogs in that bathroom, and I find that disturbing in the first place. I know for a fact that they must have been put there by a man, because (forgive me for being sexist), men are the only people who go into the restroom with the premeditated idea that they will be there long enough to read. Or peruse a catalog.

When I left, I took one catalog with me, and I dropped it into the trashcan in my classroom when I got back.

Like I said, I don't go in there very often, but every time I do, this is what I find staring back at me:



Let me say here that I am definitely NOT squeamish. My friend Carol and I had to dissect a fetal pig in Mr. Smith's biology class in high school, and we had a great time doing it. We named it and everything. I still remember it had its little tongue sticking out the side of its mouth. When the quarter changed and Carol wasn't in that class anymore, I cut the snout off and put it in Carol's locker. I knew she would want a memento of her experiences with whatever-we-named-the-pig. Mr. Smith had threatened dire consequences if one cell of any fetal pig left that room. Naturally I took that as a challenge.

These pictures are on the front of a catalog called Dissection Materials 2009. They have an entire CATALOG of those? And it comes out every year? Seriously?

I didn't thumb through the catalog, so I don't know how much a fetal pig runs, or a frog, or a ... is that a mouse? I don't really want to look at it that closely. I think you can get quantity discounts.

I'm not squeamish, but I find these images just a little disturbing. Especially if they are staring back at me when I'm in the loo.

Just What is IN That Filing Cabinet?.........

For the most part, the students at our small, non-traditional high school are good kids. Many of them just got behind in their credits, either due to academic struggles or attendance problems, or some infinite combination of life issues that interfered with their educational goals. Most of them just want to work at their own pace and earn the credits they need to graduate so they can move on to whatever comes next, whether it be the military, technical college, a four-year college, or the work force.

Where two or more teenagers are gathered, however, you have to be wary of drug issues. I think it says that somewhere in the Bible; I'm not sure.

Most of the time our fearful leader chooses to pretend we don't have anything remotely close to that kind of problem, mainly because it requires energy to deal with it. Most of the time if we raise any suspicions, we are met with responses such as, "We can't prove it..... He'll do himself in eventually.... We have to get the cooperation of law enforcement....." Blah blah blah.

Every now and then, however, some degree of action is taken, if only on the surface. Today was one of those days.

We heard an announcement over the PA system that students were to be kept in classrooms and not allowed to leave until further notice. This was somewhat problematic for me, since I wasn't even IN my classroom at the time. I wasn't even in my part of the building. I was helping on a science fair committee.

I made my way to my classroom as quickly as possible, but I really couldn't answer my students' questions. They're savvy enough to know what was going on, but their main question - "How long do we have to stay here?" - I couldn't answer. Of course, nine of the twelve people in my classroom immediately had to pee. As did a teacher down the hall and around the corner.

Just when I had convinced them that the best way to take their minds off the situation was to keep working, an administrator opened the door to my classroom and asked that students remove their jackets, leave them behind, and gather in the lower part of the hall. When they sweep the school with the drug dog, they don't search every classroom. They choose a room or two at random, and then they sweep the parking lot.

My students and I stood at the end of the hall, mostly joking (one of them asked on his way out of the room, "Can you hold something for me?" Ha ha). The time dragged on and on, and I began to get nervous for SOMEONE. Then they summoned me to my classroom.

The dog had alerted on someone's belongings, but no drugs were found.

It had also alerted on something else.

My filing cabinet.

The administrator started going through my filing cabinet, and I was as embarrassed as if someone had come into my house and started going through my closets. Anyone out there who has ever been a teacher knows that you don't throw ANYTHING away. I have projects in my filing cabinets from students who are probably grandparents by now. Maybe that's an exaggeration, but they are from a school at least two jobs ago.

And they found my stash.

Of chocolate. My drug of choice. All the teachers eat lunch in my room, and we keep a stash of chocolate to get us through the rest of the afternoon.

I don't think that's what the dog alerted on, though. They are supposed to be smarter than that.

To be fair, the administrator was not intimating that she suspected I had anything in the filing cabinet that I shouldn't. She was more concerned that someone had slipped something in there without my knowing it.

But we didn't find anything.

I had a double dose of chocolate after lunch.

From Our "Too Much Time on their Hands" Department Part 2......

Below is the text of another email from above we received at school last week. The reason I had so much trouble finding it last night was that it was in my DELETED files. Now why on earth would I delete something so important?

Workers comp issues:

Our workers' comp. consultant has noted that staff wearing flip-flops is a safety hazard. At the principals' meeting, we concluded that a shoe is a flip-flop if it bends... So, bendable flip-flops are not allowed (for staff only). Thong-style shoes that don't bend are not flip-flops... Open-toed shoes are okay.

Also, we have been asked to remind staff that anyone making a workers’ comp. claim for a fall must pass a drug test within 24 hours of the fall. Insert your own comments on that one.

Wouldn't you just love to be in that meeting of principals as they debated just what constitutes a flip-flop?

This reminds me of a school where I taught. The dress code said students could not wear "rubber flip-flops." When I sent a girl to the office one day for shoes that were clearly flip-flops, she and her mother took them to the school board meeting, where it was determined that they were not indeed made of rubber, but of foam.

The school board later voted to change the wording. The new policy said that students could not wear THRONGED flip-flops. I told my students (because I knew I was leaving the next year) that they could interpret that to mean they could wear flip-flops all they wanted, just not in large numbers.

Back to the current shoe issue. I just cannot understand why these folks have nothing better to do with their time. It makes me wonder if a workers' comp claim has been filed because a staff member had on flip-flops and fell. Hell, I can fall off a floor wearing sneakers. I once fell off a horse that WAS NOT MOVING. I don't see why my own clumsiness has to dictate the footwear of everyone else in the county.

My first reaction to the email was to say, "Wait....don't all shoes bend?"

I stand corrected. I think our new uniform shoe will be this:

Those suckers surely won't bend.

Or how about these?


Or maybe these?


Those suckers are guaranteed not to bend.

And another thing.....

Just who is going to be the checker-of-shoes-to-be-sure-they-don't-bend?

Everything You Always Wanted to Know About English......

In an effort to create some inter-disciplinary projects and/or learning units at our school, we gave the students a survey. We asked them two questions about each subject area: "How does ______ relate to your world?" and "What is one thing you have always wanted to know about _______?" where the blanks represent each subject area.

We may never get the projects and/or units planned, because all we do now is sit around and laugh at some of the responses. I will share with you only the ones that relate to English, my subject area. These are copied exactly from the survey, with no editorial changes (shudder):

How does Language Arts relate to your world?

• why do i suck at it?
• it teaches me things that writters have written in the past some about how they grew up i lonve the storys
• It teaches how to be better and grammer and how to speak with correct english.
• language arts helps me write and when i say write i mean writing good like from the heart. i love to write my own poems and i love writing letters and notes to peolpe. i am always writing something.
• The only thing that language arts is used for in real life is writing a letter to you boss.

What is one thing that you have always wanted to know about Language Arts?

• Why is there so much reading.
• Why do we read old poetry
• Why do we have to bother..
• why is it so long and so boring.
• Why is it so complacted to spell?
• how you can really creativty.
• how did the people in the oolden days know how to write what made them statrt writting
• why do we have to read everything and takes you a long time to read lol
• I want to know all the backroads of grammar because I'm bad at it.
• There is nothing I want to now about Lanugage Arts.
• Why do we learn about british liturature and why do we read the stories from that time that we cant even read cause we cant understand them cause it sounds like another language. all we do is read them talk about them for a day then take a test?? whats the point??
• why is it not proper to write a paper the same way you text.
• Why is Shakespear so important
• Why do we have to read stories?
• Why do we have to learn all the different parts of speech. (noun, verb, conjunctions...) No ones job is going to have them checking for verbs and nouns in a sentence. (accept teachers)
• why do we have to read stories why cant we just learn the subject.
• Why is it called language arts instead or reading arts?
• Why do we read stories and poems and things about the pass that does not have anything to do with language arts?
• I have always wanted to know the most important facts about it.
• I have always wanted to know how someone can just sit there and make up those amazing stories and use the most complecated words ever and still the story makes sense. Where does the creativity come from? Why don't i think like that?
• why we borrow words, and never return them...eheheheee...i guess...
• Why do we have to do romeo and juliet, that relates to nothing, but its a subject that has to be covered.

I'm thinking we have our work cut out for us.

Just Something Else to Be Obsessive About.......

Throughout my teaching career, I have been notorious for a messy desk. It's not that I LIKE a messy desk; it's just that I like having things near at hand when I need them, and I usually need a multitude of things during the school day.

Copies of syllabi, pacing schedules, attendance rosters, planning forms for students, lists of user names and passwords, attendance cards, tardy slips, signed parent information forms, gradesheets, the list goes on and on.

Below is a picture of my desk on the second day of pre-planning. That's not unusual. I ALWAYS start off the year with a clean desk. I have to clean everything off for the summer school teacher, so it's pretty bare when I start the year.

It rarely lasts more than a day or two. Pretty soon students are laughing about the disaster area that is my desk and swearing that I've lost an assignment or three. (For the record I've never LOST an assignment. Sometimes it takes a while to FIND it, but I've never actually LOST one. Trust me, I have a filing cabinet drawer full of projects and assignments.......some from six years ago, when I taught at A DIFFERENT SCHOOL.)

That's why I find it almost inconceivable that the picture below was taken this afternoon, after THREE COMPLETE WEEKS of school.

The file folders you see next to the printer are for the students in my advisement group. I have filed their signed forms in folders (alphabetical, of course), and I can immediately see who has turned them in and who hasn't. My advisement notebook is in order, complete with transcripts and up-to-date planning forms.

If you look very closely, just to the left of the printer, there is a bobblehead figure of Monk. That is no accident. Lawanda the Warrior Princess gave it to me, because she and I have discussed some of our Monkish tendencies.

I offer the photo below in the spirit of full disclosure, readily acknowledging that I TEND TO BECOME OBSESSIVE about things, ridiculous things.

These are my attendance cards. Your eyes do not deceive you; I do indeed have a student named Mercedes. In fact, I have TWO students named Mercedes, and one Porsha. I swear I'm not making this up.

Notice that each period has a different colored clamp. No big deal. What is a little disturbing is that their placement on each stack of cards is staggered.

Lord. Help. Me.

In a rather weak defense of such obvious mental instability, I will say that if the clamps were all in the same place, they wouldn't fit very nicely in the slots of this little wooden file-card-holder-thingie. I'm still struggling with the fact that there are two slots and I have 5 stacks of cards.

I have been obsessive these three weeks about getting things OFF my desk. That forces me to deal with things immediately, filing them or (usually) giving them to someone else. It has been imperative at the end of the day that my desk be spotless.

If only I could transfer some of that to my house.

Check with me at mid-term for a clean desk update.

Bone Tired.......

I am tempted to have a "Wordless Thursday", but that would be cheating and not alliterative at all. Besides, having just had "Wordle Wednesday" yesterday, it would border on just being plain sorry. And in my mother's world, being "sorry" is the worst thing in the world you can be. [Oh, if you could just hear how she says it. The intonation takes on its own meaning. Perhaps I'll try to get her to say it and record it one day and post it.]

We had our Open House today from 1:00 to 7:00. In a way it was good to stretch it out over that time, because I never had more than one student at a time, and I got to sit down with each one individually.

The bad part was that the county folks turned off our air at 4:00. Seriously. Boneheads. I'm not sure I like the idea of my thermostat being controlled by some huge hidden hand down at the county office anyway.

At least this year we get a little break between Open House and the first day of school. Last year (and I'm pretty sure there have been some other ones, but last year is as far back as this ancient old brain will even attempt to remember), we had Open House on Thursday evening and school started on Friday. Back-to-back EXHAUSTING days. I shouldn't complain; I know some people (like Nurse Jane) who have exhausting days EVERY DAY. This year the students don't start until Monday. We have tomorrow to decompress, go out to lunch one last time, and make predictions based on the ones who showed up at Open House. Oh, and we may get some work done too.

Then the official countdown begins.

Beginning Monday, I'll have 540 school days left before retirement.

Make that 538, since the state-mandated furloughs include two student days. I'm feeling better already.

Countdown......

Three more weeks

Fourteen more school days

Two more Mondays

Three more casual Fridays

66 more class periods

5160 more minutes of class time

Two half-days for exams that we don't give

One end-of-the-year picnic

Two graduations

Four more days of standardized testing

Eleven more times to decide what to wear to school

Two days of post-planning

.
.
.
.
.
.
.

I can do this.