Last week, a disgruntled student told me that Mr. M has something up his butt.
It all started when she came into my room and asked if I had a AA battery.
******************************************************
What do I look like, a convenience store?
No. But Mr. M sent me to find a AA battery.
You can tell Mr. M that even if I HAD a AA battery, I would not give it to him. In fact, it could be the last AA battery on Earth, a battery that I had no use for, and I STILL would not give it to him.
Oh.
Yesterday, I called down there to see if my son could come up to my room for the last 5 minutes of class. Did he show up? NO. And my son told me that Mr. M would not let out a kid that the office called out. Mr. M told him, "You can go when the bell rings."
Yeah. He wouldn't even let the seniors out to order their gowns.
See? That's why I have no AA battery for Mr. M. He has changed.
I KNOW! He's got something up his butt.
******************************************************
She parted ways amicably, still clutching her drained AA battery that I can only assume was a trade-in for a working AA battery, perhaps to tell Mr. M the reason for his batterylessness, perhaps not. Please let it be noted that if I truly had a problem with Mr. M, I would not speak this way of him in front of a student. Mr. M and I go way back. He organized our very first trivia team. I usually greet him as Mr. A$$hole. That's how I roll.
I had a bit of fun with his up-the-butt syndrome on Trivia Night. But that's a story for tomorrow.
Monday, November 23, 2009
Sunday, November 22, 2009
Mulligan Stew
Last night, my team WON the trivia contest! That's right. We WON. There were no money prizes, but we all got a giant gold medallion on a wide red ribbon with 1st Place on it. I'm rockin' that bling tomorrow in the hallway.
Thing is, Arch Nemesis and her family and friends were ahead of us the whole game. Not by much, but by one or two points. AND, they bought mulligans! That is SO cheating! OK, we have bought mulligans before, like when they were 10 for $5 or some such outrageous bargain, with a limit of 10. But last night, they were freakin' $10 apiece! Being confident in our gray matter, but being more cautious with our pocketbooks, we refused to buy mulligans. Arch Nemesis bought the limit of three. That's $30 for you people who are not math teachers. Sure, it was for charity. But $30 mulligans are too rich for our team's blood. We're simple folk.
Anyhoo, in the 9th round, Archie was leading us by two points. And in our worst showing of the night, we only got six answers right. But Archie and friends only got 3 right. BOOYAH! Archie tried to put on a brave face, but I'm sure she was stewing inside. She had been rubbing it in all night. I had told her middle school daughter that we were breathing down their necks. Nothing wrong with intimidating a child in the name of charity.
I'm going to flaunt that medal for all it's worth every time Archie walks down the hall tomorrow!
Thing is, Arch Nemesis and her family and friends were ahead of us the whole game. Not by much, but by one or two points. AND, they bought mulligans! That is SO cheating! OK, we have bought mulligans before, like when they were 10 for $5 or some such outrageous bargain, with a limit of 10. But last night, they were freakin' $10 apiece! Being confident in our gray matter, but being more cautious with our pocketbooks, we refused to buy mulligans. Arch Nemesis bought the limit of three. That's $30 for you people who are not math teachers. Sure, it was for charity. But $30 mulligans are too rich for our team's blood. We're simple folk.
Anyhoo, in the 9th round, Archie was leading us by two points. And in our worst showing of the night, we only got six answers right. But Archie and friends only got 3 right. BOOYAH! Archie tried to put on a brave face, but I'm sure she was stewing inside. She had been rubbing it in all night. I had told her middle school daughter that we were breathing down their necks. Nothing wrong with intimidating a child in the name of charity.
I'm going to flaunt that medal for all it's worth every time Archie walks down the hall tomorrow!
Saturday, November 21, 2009
Cleanliness Is Next To Dressing Yourself
The previous Never Ever List addition, which I may or may not have reported here, was necessitated by Sweaty.
Sweaty comes to my class 2nd hour, after PE class. On the day in question, Sweaty raised his hand right after I took roll. "Can I go change shirts?" After grilling him on why he needed to change (because he got all sweaty playing basketball in PE), and why he needed to change it during my class (because they got out late for PE, and he didn't want to be tardy), I said he could go as soon as I was done with the lesson.
The minute I wrapped things up, right before I handed out the assignment, Sweaty raised his hand again. "Now?" I let him go. Sweaty has only been tardy once this year. And several times, an announcement was made between 1st and 2nd hour that the PE students might be late. So I believed Sweaty's story.
Sweaty was gone for 20 minutes. When he came back in, he walked around the back of the room, running his hand through his short haircut. He said something to the students. One of them said a little too loudly, "You took a SHOWER?" Sweaty sat down. "Thanks for letting me go."
I needed more info for the 20-minute shirt-changing excursion. "Is this the thanks I get? I let you go to change your shirt, and you repay me by taking a shower on my class time?"
I didn't take a shower.
That's what you told everyone when you came in.
No. I changed my shirt.
For 20 minutes?
Well, when I took it off, my skin was all cold and sweaty. So I just rinsed off my body.
Which is what we commonly call A SHOWER!
I didn't think it was a big deal. You said I could go.
To change your shirt. Not to take a shower!
I didn't take a shower. I just rinsed off.
Somebody is not leaving my classroom again this year.
Never Ever take a shower during Physics class when Mrs. Hillbilly Mom says you can change your shirt.
Sweaty comes to my class 2nd hour, after PE class. On the day in question, Sweaty raised his hand right after I took roll. "Can I go change shirts?" After grilling him on why he needed to change (because he got all sweaty playing basketball in PE), and why he needed to change it during my class (because they got out late for PE, and he didn't want to be tardy), I said he could go as soon as I was done with the lesson.
The minute I wrapped things up, right before I handed out the assignment, Sweaty raised his hand again. "Now?" I let him go. Sweaty has only been tardy once this year. And several times, an announcement was made between 1st and 2nd hour that the PE students might be late. So I believed Sweaty's story.
Sweaty was gone for 20 minutes. When he came back in, he walked around the back of the room, running his hand through his short haircut. He said something to the students. One of them said a little too loudly, "You took a SHOWER?" Sweaty sat down. "Thanks for letting me go."
I needed more info for the 20-minute shirt-changing excursion. "Is this the thanks I get? I let you go to change your shirt, and you repay me by taking a shower on my class time?"
I didn't take a shower.
That's what you told everyone when you came in.
No. I changed my shirt.
For 20 minutes?
Well, when I took it off, my skin was all cold and sweaty. So I just rinsed off my body.
Which is what we commonly call A SHOWER!
I didn't think it was a big deal. You said I could go.
To change your shirt. Not to take a shower!
I didn't take a shower. I just rinsed off.
Somebody is not leaving my classroom again this year.
Never Ever take a shower during Physics class when Mrs. Hillbilly Mom says you can change your shirt.
Friday, November 20, 2009
Karma Will Chew On You For Lunch
The students this year are giving me a whole new list of Never Evers to work into my First Day of School Speech. I have been lax in reporting them, but I must share today's brand spankin' new Never Ever with you.
A senior popped into my room second hour, and said, "Coach needs to talk to Starter." I let Starter go. This is a rare occurrence, as I normally do not let students out of my class without a note. Especially when another student asks for them. But I figured that this would be an easy one to verify later, what with Coach's office being just a closet, two bathrooms, and a teacher's workroom away from my door. Also, Coach is known for never writing a note. That's why I never let his athletes out of my class to hit in the batting cage or sit around with their thumbs up their butts, or whatever it is they do outside of my class.
Let the record show that 'Starter' is by no means a starter this year. He was the one always referring to himself as a starter on the 8th grade team. He is near the bottom of the barrel this year, so near the bottom that even the #1 son romps on him if they are opponents.
After five minutes and no return of Starter, I did something I have never done that hour, and left them unattended to walk up to the office to inquire as to Starter's whereabouts. It was OK. Eight kids were absent that hour. Almost half the class. And now Starter. Mr. Principal and Secretary, upon hearing that I was looking for Starter, who had been commanded for an audience with Coach, both said, "Oh, there was a problem with the basketball shoes. That's where he is." I was skeptical. I have a more suspicious nature, spending quality time with these little con artists every day. I scurried back to class.
When a total of 12 minutes had elapsed, I got to looking for a suitable subject to send on a reconnaissance mission. Of course there were many volunteers. But no. I had only one selection: the girl with the hurt back who uses BioFreeze on it every morning. I calculated that she was certain to return, being in too much pain to a) join in all the PE games, b) stand and watch the PE games, or c) sit on the hard metal bleachers. I told her I would expect a full report, and that she should tell Starter that Mrs. Hillbilly Mom said to get back to class.
While BioFreeze was gone, many others selflessly volunteered to go find HER. I politely declined. Next thing you know, BioFreeze returned. Right behind her was Starter. He was carrying a shoebox. His face was flushed. He was sweaty.
Where have you been?
Oh, I just had to get my shoes.
I thought the team already got their shoes.
Mine were 10 instead of 10 and a half.
Why are you so sweaty?
I ran up the steps to get here.
I don't think so. It looks like you were playing in gym.
No. I just got my shoes. See?
It took you 12 minutes to pick up a shoebox?
I don't know how long it took.
I turned my attention to Biofreeze.
BioFreeze, was Starter playing basketball in the gym?
No.
Was he playing volleyball?
No.
Was he playing dodgeball?
BioFreeze tilted her head to one side and raised an eyebrow.
BINGO! Starter was busted. I read him the riot act about not being where he was supposed to be. I told him he would never get out of my class again without a note. Coach could walk up and get him if it was that important. Starter apologized. Then he said, "At least I didn't take a shower."
Which is another Never Ever entirely.
FYI: Mr. Principal was informed of Starter's transgression, and called him aside at lunch for a little chewing.
A senior popped into my room second hour, and said, "Coach needs to talk to Starter." I let Starter go. This is a rare occurrence, as I normally do not let students out of my class without a note. Especially when another student asks for them. But I figured that this would be an easy one to verify later, what with Coach's office being just a closet, two bathrooms, and a teacher's workroom away from my door. Also, Coach is known for never writing a note. That's why I never let his athletes out of my class to hit in the batting cage or sit around with their thumbs up their butts, or whatever it is they do outside of my class.
Let the record show that 'Starter' is by no means a starter this year. He was the one always referring to himself as a starter on the 8th grade team. He is near the bottom of the barrel this year, so near the bottom that even the #1 son romps on him if they are opponents.
After five minutes and no return of Starter, I did something I have never done that hour, and left them unattended to walk up to the office to inquire as to Starter's whereabouts. It was OK. Eight kids were absent that hour. Almost half the class. And now Starter. Mr. Principal and Secretary, upon hearing that I was looking for Starter, who had been commanded for an audience with Coach, both said, "Oh, there was a problem with the basketball shoes. That's where he is." I was skeptical. I have a more suspicious nature, spending quality time with these little con artists every day. I scurried back to class.
When a total of 12 minutes had elapsed, I got to looking for a suitable subject to send on a reconnaissance mission. Of course there were many volunteers. But no. I had only one selection: the girl with the hurt back who uses BioFreeze on it every morning. I calculated that she was certain to return, being in too much pain to a) join in all the PE games, b) stand and watch the PE games, or c) sit on the hard metal bleachers. I told her I would expect a full report, and that she should tell Starter that Mrs. Hillbilly Mom said to get back to class.
While BioFreeze was gone, many others selflessly volunteered to go find HER. I politely declined. Next thing you know, BioFreeze returned. Right behind her was Starter. He was carrying a shoebox. His face was flushed. He was sweaty.
Where have you been?
Oh, I just had to get my shoes.
I thought the team already got their shoes.
Mine were 10 instead of 10 and a half.
Why are you so sweaty?
I ran up the steps to get here.
I don't think so. It looks like you were playing in gym.
No. I just got my shoes. See?
It took you 12 minutes to pick up a shoebox?
I don't know how long it took.
I turned my attention to Biofreeze.
BioFreeze, was Starter playing basketball in the gym?
No.
Was he playing volleyball?
No.
Was he playing dodgeball?
BioFreeze tilted her head to one side and raised an eyebrow.
BINGO! Starter was busted. I read him the riot act about not being where he was supposed to be. I told him he would never get out of my class again without a note. Coach could walk up and get him if it was that important. Starter apologized. Then he said, "At least I didn't take a shower."
Which is another Never Ever entirely.
FYI: Mr. Principal was informed of Starter's transgression, and called him aside at lunch for a little chewing.
Thursday, November 19, 2009
More From The Files Of Turkey Whisperer H
Farmer H won a turkey. There he was, sitting in traffic, listening to the local hick radio station, and as Farmer H told it: "I heard a turkey gobble, real faint, in the background, so I called the radio station. I was caller number four, so I hung up and called again. This time I was caller number ten, and all I had to do was guess how many shots it would take to kill the turkey. If you're wrong, the turkey laughs at you, but if you're right, the turkey dies. I said three shots, and I killed him. The guy said I could pick up my bird any business day, and to bring my axe. I told him no, I would just put it in the pen with my other turkey. He laughed at that. So now we have a turkey for Thanksgiving."
Farmer H. Always the provider, even if it means shooting a virtual turkey over the phone on the radio.
Who's a big turkey?
Farmer H. Always the provider, even if it means shooting a virtual turkey over the phone on the radio.
Who's a big turkey?
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
TRIVIALITY AND EVEN STEVEN
We have a big trivia match coming up Saturday night. Basementia Buddy organized a team, and we will see what develops. This is a fundraiser for a really good cause, and I have no problem with donating back any money that we might win. I might even buy some tickets for the 50-50 drawing. Normally, I don’t. I resent that people expect you to donate those possible winnings back, too. Criminy! They already got to keep 50 %! But for this cause, I would make an exception and loosen the strings on my tightwad heart.
I can do that, you know. Because I’m Even Steven. Last Thursday, when the #1 son cracked open his eggshell noggin, the ER did not demand that $100 copay. They said they would bill us. Quite different from the hospital of Insurance Provider H, which demanded it before we left, after sending the #1 noggin through the MRI chamber to search for brain bleeding after his concussion in June. So I know there’s a bill for $100 floating around out there with Insurance Provider H’s name on it. Not to worry, though. For I am Even Steven.
That Friday night, the evening after the noggin-knocking, I stopped for gas at the Casey’s General Store by my mom’s house. Of course I had to cash in a $15 scratch-off winner and buy two $10 tickets. I did not have time to scratch them until 6:30 Saturday morning. Wouldn’t you know it? The second one was a $100 winner. I ROCK! I am Even Steven. Accrue an unexpected $100 ER fee on Thursday night…win $100 on a scratcher Saturday morning.
Can’t beat THAT with a stick!
I can do that, you know. Because I’m Even Steven. Last Thursday, when the #1 son cracked open his eggshell noggin, the ER did not demand that $100 copay. They said they would bill us. Quite different from the hospital of Insurance Provider H, which demanded it before we left, after sending the #1 noggin through the MRI chamber to search for brain bleeding after his concussion in June. So I know there’s a bill for $100 floating around out there with Insurance Provider H’s name on it. Not to worry, though. For I am Even Steven.
That Friday night, the evening after the noggin-knocking, I stopped for gas at the Casey’s General Store by my mom’s house. Of course I had to cash in a $15 scratch-off winner and buy two $10 tickets. I did not have time to scratch them until 6:30 Saturday morning. Wouldn’t you know it? The second one was a $100 winner. I ROCK! I am Even Steven. Accrue an unexpected $100 ER fee on Thursday night…win $100 on a scratcher Saturday morning.
Can’t beat THAT with a stick!
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
Hillbilly Mom's Day Off
Today I was absent from my classroom. Which does not mean I was absent from school. I was commanded to report to Basementia for a little curriculum alignment task. Lower Basementia, to be exact. Across the hall from my old room, which is now the ISS room.
ScienceBuddy and I were to report to the refurbished library at 8:15, which we did. We then cooled our heels catching up on recent happenings, resisted the urge to read the book Heredity (which was proudly displayed on a special shelf, the cover pic of Dolly the sheep smiling futilely at prospective middle-school readers), and mused over the absence of Hawaii from the mural of the world stuck to a 12' x 10' section of wall.
Really. Who expects a middle school kid to check out a book on heredity, even with a famous cloned sheep as the hook to lure him in? Even my own nerdish child would never had dreamed of checking out a book on heredity. Or sheep.
Hawaii is still a mystery. There was a rectangular box saying that Hawaii would be found at 20 degrees north and 150 degrees west, with an arrow pointing off the right border of the map. Funny thing, Alaska was showing up above that portion of the map. So I went to look at the left margin, where up above there was another Alaska. Nope. No Hawaii. The coordinates would have placed Hawaii somewhere on the Central America isthmus. That ain't right, people. Someone has stolen the Hawaiian Islands from Basementia! I'm thinking that we got a great big discount on that map, or that the volunteers who stuck it to the wall thought nobody would notice if they cut a few corners.
Anyhoo, getting back to our curriculum task...We had it done by 11:00, even though we didn't start until 9:15 when our leader showed up to explain what he expected. We got lunch delivered, if by delivered you understand that ScienceBuddy called it in and drove to pick it up. There we were, enjoying a brought-in lunch, which teachers seldom get ON TIME with ENOUGH TIME TO EAT IT in a SOOTHING ENVIRONMENT, when in walked the ISS contingent. Uh huh. Just when you're cutting into your grilled chicken sandwich with tomato and pickle, removed from the bun because HELLO bun on top of tomato and pickle slices in a foam container with hot chicken turns into a steam sponge, in traipses 8-10 young lads incarcerated for various offenses, instructed by the loud librarian to sit AT THE TABLES, not the comfy chairs, because they don't deserve them. The tables. Which is where a teacher doing curriculum spiffing tends to sit to eat the brought-in lunch. That's like flying your wife to a fancy restaurant on Air Force One, only to have the entire GITMO guest book file into the restaurant and sit down next to you and watch you eat.
I can't catch a break.
ScienceBuddy and I were to report to the refurbished library at 8:15, which we did. We then cooled our heels catching up on recent happenings, resisted the urge to read the book Heredity (which was proudly displayed on a special shelf, the cover pic of Dolly the sheep smiling futilely at prospective middle-school readers), and mused over the absence of Hawaii from the mural of the world stuck to a 12' x 10' section of wall.
Really. Who expects a middle school kid to check out a book on heredity, even with a famous cloned sheep as the hook to lure him in? Even my own nerdish child would never had dreamed of checking out a book on heredity. Or sheep.
Hawaii is still a mystery. There was a rectangular box saying that Hawaii would be found at 20 degrees north and 150 degrees west, with an arrow pointing off the right border of the map. Funny thing, Alaska was showing up above that portion of the map. So I went to look at the left margin, where up above there was another Alaska. Nope. No Hawaii. The coordinates would have placed Hawaii somewhere on the Central America isthmus. That ain't right, people. Someone has stolen the Hawaiian Islands from Basementia! I'm thinking that we got a great big discount on that map, or that the volunteers who stuck it to the wall thought nobody would notice if they cut a few corners.
Anyhoo, getting back to our curriculum task...We had it done by 11:00, even though we didn't start until 9:15 when our leader showed up to explain what he expected. We got lunch delivered, if by delivered you understand that ScienceBuddy called it in and drove to pick it up. There we were, enjoying a brought-in lunch, which teachers seldom get ON TIME with ENOUGH TIME TO EAT IT in a SOOTHING ENVIRONMENT, when in walked the ISS contingent. Uh huh. Just when you're cutting into your grilled chicken sandwich with tomato and pickle, removed from the bun because HELLO bun on top of tomato and pickle slices in a foam container with hot chicken turns into a steam sponge, in traipses 8-10 young lads incarcerated for various offenses, instructed by the loud librarian to sit AT THE TABLES, not the comfy chairs, because they don't deserve them. The tables. Which is where a teacher doing curriculum spiffing tends to sit to eat the brought-in lunch. That's like flying your wife to a fancy restaurant on Air Force One, only to have the entire GITMO guest book file into the restaurant and sit down next to you and watch you eat.
I can't catch a break.
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