Lunch is an oasis in the midst of the desert of my workday. A workday that is similar to a dose of Atarax, which I was prescribed many years ago at the ER after a severe allergic reaction to ampicillin. I was told to take five pills, then four pills, then three, then two, then one. My workday starts with three classes, then lunch, then two classes, then plan time, then one class.
Imagine my chagrin today when my lovely oasis was permeated by the stink of FISH. It was almost more than I could bear. Arch Nemesis has been lunching with us for two days, due to this week's testing schedule. Yesterday was nothing to write a blog about, except that she took my seat at the lunch table. It's my own fault that I didn't run out and snag that spot that I have sat in every day for three years. Today, Archie was nuking her food in the semi-working microwave of the teacher workroom. I staked out my table territory in the cafeteria, welcomed the return of Mr. S, greeted LunchBuddy and ShopMan, and was quietly consuming a chicken salad sandwich on whole wheat with a side of Sun Chips and a dessert of diced peaches in light syrup when Archie arrived and peeled the lid off her plasticware. Oh, the humanity!!! I tried not to breathe through my nose, but that's kind of hard when you are chewing.
In that plasticware, stewing in their own juices, lay four pieces of tilapia with lemon pepper. No breading. Just steaming tilapia with a freckling of lemon pepper. Hoo boys! It was enough to make your eyes water. As if the reek was not enough, Archie and company had to host a symposium on the merits of tilapia. Mr. Principal stated that tilapia is a really good fish, but that he can not stand salmon. ShopMan said that he likes tilapia, but he must have it fried. Mr. S sang the praises of tilapia and badmouthed the salmon. ShopMan stated that salmon is just another red meat. LunchBuddy declared that if any fish crosses her lips, it will be deep-fried. I, alone, attempted to unbesmirch the wronged salmon. "I love salmon. I used to eat it all the time. My uncle lived in Alaska, and he would send us cans and cans of salmon from the cannery near his home in Ketchikan. My mom made salmon cakes with crushed crackers and fried them to a crisp. When we visited Alaska, my uncle grilled fresh salmon at 10:00 p.m. for our supper. Land of the midnight sun, you know." That kind of put a damper on the d*mning of the salmon.
As we were leaving after our 23-minute respite from the salt mines, LunchBuddy leaned over and said, "I was having a really hard time." Indeed. She was at ground zero. She shielded me from the initial blast. I confided, "I can hardly wait to get out of this fishy place and into my room where I can enjoy the sweet aroma of body odor."
Thank you. I'll be here all week.
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
Full Moon Spring Fever
Have you noticed, it's full moon time again? I have. Kids are flipping out right and left. It's not just that Spring has sprung. No. The lions are not going out like lambs. They need taming. Chair and whip circus-style taming. Because they've lost their heads. I can't imagine what they're thinking. But they tell me. Or show me.
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Why do you have your cell phone out? (I didn't actually see a cell phone. I saw a kid turned sideways, looking down near his waist. That's a tell. I fished him in with that baiting question.)
I got a text.
Bring me the phone. (Wasn't that deceptively easy? No argument. No lying. Just an explanation.)
It was a text from my dad!
Put it on my desk. (Like that makes it OK. Like phone usage in class is perfectly all right, as long as it is with a parent. Because obviously, parents don't want you to get an education, really, but are just utilizing their tax-paid babysitting service, and need you to respond to them while they are working. Ha ha. Who are we kidding? Parents? Working?)
Leave it there. Because you admitted it and brought it right up, and I haven't caught you before, you can have it back after the bell. Next time, it goes to the office. (I am tired of being the phone police.)
Thank you. I won't do it again.
**That was my second phone this week. The first one was a repeat offender. It went to the office for parent pick-up after school.**
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Today there was the incontinent purse episode.
Why is there a puddle around your purse?
What? What do you mean?
That lake of liquid surrounding your purse? Can you explain that?
Ooohhh. It must be my bottle of water.
Not any more. Get something to clean that up!
How am I going to do that?
You don't expect ME to do it, do you?
No. It's just that there are no paper towels in the bathroom. (No. Only blowers. Because you stuff paper towels in the sink and toilet hoping for FEMA to toss money from the sky.)
Then go find a custodian and see if he will give you some of those brown paper towels out of the closet. (Which resulted in two custodians and a student helper parading into my classroom like we had just called GhostBusters. One carried the mop, one used the mop, and one was an appreciative audience.)
**Don't even get me started on this beverage bust. I think we should go back to the rules that still stand, as far as I know, but are not enforced no matter how hard you try, just ask Mrs. NotACook about her experience, that we had when we first busted that champagne bottle over Newmentia's bow, that NO student beverages may be brought into the building or taken out of the cafeteria, because how do we know, really, what those little whippersnappers have put into an open container that they carry around and swill from willy-nilly, though not in my classroom without a kerfluffle.**
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And for the record, a F I G H T is when two or more people pummel each other, not when one person flings himself at a seated person after the dismissal bell and whales on the unsuspecting victim until stopped by another. No fight. No glory. Just an assault with battery, no justification, no matter what the whalee might have said about the whaler's momma. This is not the wild west. It's just another day in Mrs. Hillbilly Mom's Ultimate Fighting Championship Arena.
********************************************
Why do you have your cell phone out? (I didn't actually see a cell phone. I saw a kid turned sideways, looking down near his waist. That's a tell. I fished him in with that baiting question.)
I got a text.
Bring me the phone. (Wasn't that deceptively easy? No argument. No lying. Just an explanation.)
It was a text from my dad!
Put it on my desk. (Like that makes it OK. Like phone usage in class is perfectly all right, as long as it is with a parent. Because obviously, parents don't want you to get an education, really, but are just utilizing their tax-paid babysitting service, and need you to respond to them while they are working. Ha ha. Who are we kidding? Parents? Working?)
Leave it there. Because you admitted it and brought it right up, and I haven't caught you before, you can have it back after the bell. Next time, it goes to the office. (I am tired of being the phone police.)
Thank you. I won't do it again.
**That was my second phone this week. The first one was a repeat offender. It went to the office for parent pick-up after school.**
*********************************************
Today there was the incontinent purse episode.
Why is there a puddle around your purse?
What? What do you mean?
That lake of liquid surrounding your purse? Can you explain that?
Ooohhh. It must be my bottle of water.
Not any more. Get something to clean that up!
How am I going to do that?
You don't expect ME to do it, do you?
No. It's just that there are no paper towels in the bathroom. (No. Only blowers. Because you stuff paper towels in the sink and toilet hoping for FEMA to toss money from the sky.)
Then go find a custodian and see if he will give you some of those brown paper towels out of the closet. (Which resulted in two custodians and a student helper parading into my classroom like we had just called GhostBusters. One carried the mop, one used the mop, and one was an appreciative audience.)
**Don't even get me started on this beverage bust. I think we should go back to the rules that still stand, as far as I know, but are not enforced no matter how hard you try, just ask Mrs. NotACook about her experience, that we had when we first busted that champagne bottle over Newmentia's bow, that NO student beverages may be brought into the building or taken out of the cafeteria, because how do we know, really, what those little whippersnappers have put into an open container that they carry around and swill from willy-nilly, though not in my classroom without a kerfluffle.**
********************************************
And for the record, a F I G H T is when two or more people pummel each other, not when one person flings himself at a seated person after the dismissal bell and whales on the unsuspecting victim until stopped by another. No fight. No glory. Just an assault with battery, no justification, no matter what the whalee might have said about the whaler's momma. This is not the wild west. It's just another day in Mrs. Hillbilly Mom's Ultimate Fighting Championship Arena.
Monday, March 29, 2010
A Paper Airplane Pilot
Due to technical difficulties, Mrs. Hillbilly Mom has been incommunicado for an eon. The #1 son was away at the state bowling tournament all weekend, and left Mrs. HM high and dry with her internet connection discombobulated. The following post was meant for Friday, March 26.
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We took a smaller contingent to the community college science fair this year. What's up with kids these days? You can't even bribe them with bonus points anymore. About half of those who sent in their entries did not attend. It might have had something to do with the scheduling, which put the science fair on the same day as the district band contest held at a different community college.
Don't go pointing fingers at Mrs. Hillbilly Mom. She had nothing to do with the scheduling. That would be the host college. Seems there was something going on with the availability of the gym, and all the sponsors wanting to make sure the science fair was held on a Friday. If you think we had trouble getting students to enter this year, imagine what it would have been like if we told them it was going to be held on a Saturday. That plane wouldn't fly.
Speaking of planes, that was the #1 son's project this year. How force affects the flight of paper airplanes. Of course you can't just fling paper airplanes through the atmosphere willy nilly. How scientific would THAT be? You have to control the launch force and the angle and the direction and how long you hold it before you let go. Unless you do, there are too many variables affecting the flight. So my boy built himself a paper airplane launcher.
I must admit I was not a big fan of the project idea. I could not understand how he was going to build a launcher. He tried to describe it and sketch it for me, but I could not visualize it. He and NASA Engineer H holed up in the barn for two hours one Sunday, and VOILA! A paper airplane launcher was born! I could not believe how deceptively simple the process appeared. Of course, there were a few bugs to be worked out. Bungee cords were the method of propulsion, releasing a little wooden cart that looked like something out of the mine scene in an Indiana Jones movie. It ran along a metal garage door track, and slammed into a wooden panel, launching the paper airplane that was held in a V-shaped cradle of four screws mounted on the cart. Except that the friction was too much for the plane to sail smoothly off the cart, and the cart itself could not get up a good speed due to its mass and heavy metal wheels.
Hillbilly Mom to the rescue. I suggested shaving off some wood from the cart to make it lighter. #1 let it slip that just for fun, he had set the plane in the groove of the metal track and flicked it with his hand, and it sailed. Still not scientific, flicking the paper plane. So I suggested a wooden thingy mounted on the cart that would follow along the groove and shove the plane. #1 took a piece of scrap wood and attached that dealybob in short order. That was his first prototype. Which is a ridiculously redundant statement, because of course a prototype is the first one.
Anyhoo, he took it to school and tested it in the flight tunnel we commonly call The Hallway. It worked OK, but he brainstormed a new track set-up with less clunkiness and friction. Networker H got some parts from a salesman at work, and the final model was born. #1 used stronger, flat bungees instead of the little round bungees. He ran into trouble with no way to measure the force of the strongest set-up of four bungees. The best we could do was a fish scale, which only went to 28 pounds. In hindsight, a luggage scale or livestock scale would have been beneficial.
So #1 had to explain in his results that while he could calculate acceleration for the first two force trials, he could not do so for the strongest one, the one that proved his hypothesis that too much force provides too much lift, and makes the plane stall and plummet. He also forgot to set up his Zune that played a loop of his testing efforts. His excuse was that the judges started with him, and he wasn't ready because every time he left his display, he had to pick up the Zune and take it with him to prevent theft, and he forgot that it was in his pocket when the judges came. And also, he was a bit discombobulated because the safety committee had made him take the bugees off the rail thingamajig, because no projectiles were allowed. Oh, really. Half the projects there involved projectiles. Just ask the dude who had a golf club swinger.
The bottom line is...#1 won his category of High School Physics, and according to one of the judges, it was between him and the Behavioral Science winner for Best In Show. The other dude won, with a logbook of 365 days and a continuation of his last year's project. Not a real surprise, as this kid wins Best In Show every year. He is a senior, and no doubt won the scholarship that the college offers for science fair. #1 did not mind. He won his category and the $50 prize, and while Best In Show is an honor, it does not carry any more financial rewards.
Two of our middle school students also won 1st place in their categories. Last year we had more awards, but they were thirds and honorable mentions.
Since he began entering the science fair in 6th grade, #1's record stands at:
6th Grade-1st Place, Middle School Physics
7th Grade-1st Place, Middle School Physics
8th Grade-Honorable Mention, Middle School Engineering
9th Grade-1st Place, High School Physics
Not a bad showing for the young whippersnapper. This concludes the maternal bragging. I will try to post some pictures of the plane-launcher when #1 returns from the state bowling tournament with the photos and the knowledge.
*******************************************
We took a smaller contingent to the community college science fair this year. What's up with kids these days? You can't even bribe them with bonus points anymore. About half of those who sent in their entries did not attend. It might have had something to do with the scheduling, which put the science fair on the same day as the district band contest held at a different community college.
Don't go pointing fingers at Mrs. Hillbilly Mom. She had nothing to do with the scheduling. That would be the host college. Seems there was something going on with the availability of the gym, and all the sponsors wanting to make sure the science fair was held on a Friday. If you think we had trouble getting students to enter this year, imagine what it would have been like if we told them it was going to be held on a Saturday. That plane wouldn't fly.
Speaking of planes, that was the #1 son's project this year. How force affects the flight of paper airplanes. Of course you can't just fling paper airplanes through the atmosphere willy nilly. How scientific would THAT be? You have to control the launch force and the angle and the direction and how long you hold it before you let go. Unless you do, there are too many variables affecting the flight. So my boy built himself a paper airplane launcher.
I must admit I was not a big fan of the project idea. I could not understand how he was going to build a launcher. He tried to describe it and sketch it for me, but I could not visualize it. He and NASA Engineer H holed up in the barn for two hours one Sunday, and VOILA! A paper airplane launcher was born! I could not believe how deceptively simple the process appeared. Of course, there were a few bugs to be worked out. Bungee cords were the method of propulsion, releasing a little wooden cart that looked like something out of the mine scene in an Indiana Jones movie. It ran along a metal garage door track, and slammed into a wooden panel, launching the paper airplane that was held in a V-shaped cradle of four screws mounted on the cart. Except that the friction was too much for the plane to sail smoothly off the cart, and the cart itself could not get up a good speed due to its mass and heavy metal wheels.
Hillbilly Mom to the rescue. I suggested shaving off some wood from the cart to make it lighter. #1 let it slip that just for fun, he had set the plane in the groove of the metal track and flicked it with his hand, and it sailed. Still not scientific, flicking the paper plane. So I suggested a wooden thingy mounted on the cart that would follow along the groove and shove the plane. #1 took a piece of scrap wood and attached that dealybob in short order. That was his first prototype. Which is a ridiculously redundant statement, because of course a prototype is the first one.
Anyhoo, he took it to school and tested it in the flight tunnel we commonly call The Hallway. It worked OK, but he brainstormed a new track set-up with less clunkiness and friction. Networker H got some parts from a salesman at work, and the final model was born. #1 used stronger, flat bungees instead of the little round bungees. He ran into trouble with no way to measure the force of the strongest set-up of four bungees. The best we could do was a fish scale, which only went to 28 pounds. In hindsight, a luggage scale or livestock scale would have been beneficial.
So #1 had to explain in his results that while he could calculate acceleration for the first two force trials, he could not do so for the strongest one, the one that proved his hypothesis that too much force provides too much lift, and makes the plane stall and plummet. He also forgot to set up his Zune that played a loop of his testing efforts. His excuse was that the judges started with him, and he wasn't ready because every time he left his display, he had to pick up the Zune and take it with him to prevent theft, and he forgot that it was in his pocket when the judges came. And also, he was a bit discombobulated because the safety committee had made him take the bugees off the rail thingamajig, because no projectiles were allowed. Oh, really. Half the projects there involved projectiles. Just ask the dude who had a golf club swinger.
The bottom line is...#1 won his category of High School Physics, and according to one of the judges, it was between him and the Behavioral Science winner for Best In Show. The other dude won, with a logbook of 365 days and a continuation of his last year's project. Not a real surprise, as this kid wins Best In Show every year. He is a senior, and no doubt won the scholarship that the college offers for science fair. #1 did not mind. He won his category and the $50 prize, and while Best In Show is an honor, it does not carry any more financial rewards.
Two of our middle school students also won 1st place in their categories. Last year we had more awards, but they were thirds and honorable mentions.
Since he began entering the science fair in 6th grade, #1's record stands at:
6th Grade-1st Place, Middle School Physics
7th Grade-1st Place, Middle School Physics
8th Grade-Honorable Mention, Middle School Engineering
9th Grade-1st Place, High School Physics
Not a bad showing for the young whippersnapper. This concludes the maternal bragging. I will try to post some pictures of the plane-launcher when #1 returns from the state bowling tournament with the photos and the knowledge.
Sunday, March 21, 2010
Now You See Her...
I am taking the weekdays off this week, unless something really, really noteworthy happens. I plan to return Friday evening if the sun, moon, and stars align properly. It's Science Fair week, and our computer gradebook program was down all day Thursday, and the End of Course Test is coming up for my Biology students, and I am going to be busier than Homer Simpson at a donut-eating contest.
Speaking of that technology faux pas, it seems that nobody was complaining about it besides me, at least for the entire morning. Don't tell me that nobody else uses PowerGrade daily except ol' Hillbilly Mom. Though there were plenty of people cryin' big ol' crocodile tears last weekend, because they were counting on entering all their 3rd Quarter grades by Monday morning at 8:00, and the system was down for the whole weekend. The system which, by the way, is supposed to be fully accessible from home, which is why the district invested in laptops for the entire faculty. By sixth hour, I had had enough. The guidance office knew nothing, because, you see, THEY didn't have any problems getting into the program that they use. I sought out Mr. Principal, and found him at the main entrance, jiggling the top latch of the metal-and-safety-glass inner door, while the district handyman jiggled the main latch. He must be the only handyman with a building principal as his assistant.
Mr. H was watching, probably just a happy coincidence, getting there after the handy's helper had already been established. Mr. Principal relayed that the tech problem would remain in effect until TechDude returned from a tech conference. I said, "So it really won't do me any good to take my work home and try to enter it from there in the event that PowerGrade gets fixed before Monday?" Mr. H said, "Not necessarily. There are some things that he can access remotely." Because we knew TechDude would not be schlepping up to Newmentia to troubleshoot the problem on a weekend.
When I got back to my room, I finally put the pieces together. I wanted to give Mr. H a slap to the forehead. A good ol' 'I could have had a V8' slap, right between the eyes. Because, if TechDude could access and fix the problem remotely, wouldn't he have already freakin' DONE IT, for cryin' out loud, since it had been down for at least six hours already? Wouldn't he? Isn't that kind of what his job is all about? His bread-and-butter? The way he earns his keep?
I don't look for Mr. H to be elected president of the Hillmomba chapter of Mensa any time soon.
Speaking of that technology faux pas, it seems that nobody was complaining about it besides me, at least for the entire morning. Don't tell me that nobody else uses PowerGrade daily except ol' Hillbilly Mom. Though there were plenty of people cryin' big ol' crocodile tears last weekend, because they were counting on entering all their 3rd Quarter grades by Monday morning at 8:00, and the system was down for the whole weekend. The system which, by the way, is supposed to be fully accessible from home, which is why the district invested in laptops for the entire faculty. By sixth hour, I had had enough. The guidance office knew nothing, because, you see, THEY didn't have any problems getting into the program that they use. I sought out Mr. Principal, and found him at the main entrance, jiggling the top latch of the metal-and-safety-glass inner door, while the district handyman jiggled the main latch. He must be the only handyman with a building principal as his assistant.
Mr. H was watching, probably just a happy coincidence, getting there after the handy's helper had already been established. Mr. Principal relayed that the tech problem would remain in effect until TechDude returned from a tech conference. I said, "So it really won't do me any good to take my work home and try to enter it from there in the event that PowerGrade gets fixed before Monday?" Mr. H said, "Not necessarily. There are some things that he can access remotely." Because we knew TechDude would not be schlepping up to Newmentia to troubleshoot the problem on a weekend.
When I got back to my room, I finally put the pieces together. I wanted to give Mr. H a slap to the forehead. A good ol' 'I could have had a V8' slap, right between the eyes. Because, if TechDude could access and fix the problem remotely, wouldn't he have already freakin' DONE IT, for cryin' out loud, since it had been down for at least six hours already? Wouldn't he? Isn't that kind of what his job is all about? His bread-and-butter? The way he earns his keep?
I don't look for Mr. H to be elected president of the Hillmomba chapter of Mensa any time soon.
Saturday, March 20, 2010
Hard At Work With Mrs. HM
If you don't count the two late nights for conferences, last week was a four-day work week. In the upcoming week, I am going to the local community college Science Fair on Friday, which will require that I miss school all day. The week after that, we are off on Good Friday for our spring break. And the week after that, we have Monday off. Are you still with me? That is FOUR WEEKS in a row of four-day work weeks. Can't beat that with a stick!
That Science Fair is fantastic. To start with, I usually drive my T-Hoe, because the students ride the same bus as Basementia's entrants. That means there is already a teacher on that bus. We trade off by agreeing to return to school and wait with any stragglers whose parents don't love them enough to pick them up on time so the bus-riding teacher can make a hasty escape.
I don't have to go all the way to Newmentia that morning. My mom meets me to pick up The Pony and drop him off, so #1 and I can go directly to the Science Fair, which is closer to our Mansion than Newmentia.
Getting there before the buses means that #1 can check in and set up before it gets crowded, and get a chair to sit on beside his display, before they run out of chairs. Then he is in phone heaven until judging begins.
I can sit in the bleachers and watch everyone arrive. I can go down on the floor and peruse the projects. I can relax with a Subway cookie in the sponsor's room. I can read a book. I can chat with parents or other sponsors or ScienceBuddy.
I can buy lunch for #1 and myself before they dismiss the hundreds of participants to line up at the Subway that is located in the field house.
After lunch, I can see who is in the running for Best of Show. All of the category winners are called to sit by their projects for final judging. Oh, they don't tell them that they are the category winners, but if they have good deductive reasoning skills, they will notice that only one project from each category is asked to come back to the floor. This is good and this is bad. The kids know right off that they've won or not won their category.
At 2:00, the floor is open to everyone who wants to look at the projects. At 3:00, awards are announced. All projects must be removed by 4:30. We are long gone by that time.
Not a bad day of work if you can get it.
That Science Fair is fantastic. To start with, I usually drive my T-Hoe, because the students ride the same bus as Basementia's entrants. That means there is already a teacher on that bus. We trade off by agreeing to return to school and wait with any stragglers whose parents don't love them enough to pick them up on time so the bus-riding teacher can make a hasty escape.
I don't have to go all the way to Newmentia that morning. My mom meets me to pick up The Pony and drop him off, so #1 and I can go directly to the Science Fair, which is closer to our Mansion than Newmentia.
Getting there before the buses means that #1 can check in and set up before it gets crowded, and get a chair to sit on beside his display, before they run out of chairs. Then he is in phone heaven until judging begins.
I can sit in the bleachers and watch everyone arrive. I can go down on the floor and peruse the projects. I can relax with a Subway cookie in the sponsor's room. I can read a book. I can chat with parents or other sponsors or ScienceBuddy.
I can buy lunch for #1 and myself before they dismiss the hundreds of participants to line up at the Subway that is located in the field house.
After lunch, I can see who is in the running for Best of Show. All of the category winners are called to sit by their projects for final judging. Oh, they don't tell them that they are the category winners, but if they have good deductive reasoning skills, they will notice that only one project from each category is asked to come back to the floor. This is good and this is bad. The kids know right off that they've won or not won their category.
At 2:00, the floor is open to everyone who wants to look at the projects. At 3:00, awards are announced. All projects must be removed by 4:30. We are long gone by that time.
Not a bad day of work if you can get it.
Friday, March 19, 2010
The S-Man Claimeth
Here's a little tale out of school that came from within the school yesterday. Perhaps I have mentioned how Mr. S likes to tell stories. Not necessarily verifiable stories, mind you. But he has a story for any incident that you toss at him. Remember how I found out he had connections with a bull-running horn-through-the-lower-leg incident, and to the United States tour of King Tut? Uh huh. It's like that.
All week we had seen and read snippets about the poor jogger who was minding his own business loping along that South Carolina beach listening to his iPod and improving his cardiovascular system so that he could live longer. Or not. Hear the record-screeching sound effect? Come on. I know you are all old enough to remember records. That jogger was, too. Except that he won't ever hear one again, because...well...he is dead due to a plane that crash-landed on him. Talk about being in the wrong place at the wrong time!
So Mr. S was telling his students about this incident, because...well...it is a current event, and Mr. S is all about the educatin' of the children with current events. But the kicker is, Mr. S has walked on that beach! The very beach of the unfortunate health-conscious jogger inadvertent homicide. It's true!
Because Mr. S said so.
Some of my students did not buy it. In fact, they couldn't wait to tell me about Mr. S's story. They spoke scornfully of the S-man's claims. "Yeah, like he has actually walked on that beach." Until one of them said, "No. He walked on the water."
All week we had seen and read snippets about the poor jogger who was minding his own business loping along that South Carolina beach listening to his iPod and improving his cardiovascular system so that he could live longer. Or not. Hear the record-screeching sound effect? Come on. I know you are all old enough to remember records. That jogger was, too. Except that he won't ever hear one again, because...well...he is dead due to a plane that crash-landed on him. Talk about being in the wrong place at the wrong time!
So Mr. S was telling his students about this incident, because...well...it is a current event, and Mr. S is all about the educatin' of the children with current events. But the kicker is, Mr. S has walked on that beach! The very beach of the unfortunate health-conscious jogger inadvertent homicide. It's true!
Because Mr. S said so.
Some of my students did not buy it. In fact, they couldn't wait to tell me about Mr. S's story. They spoke scornfully of the S-man's claims. "Yeah, like he has actually walked on that beach." Until one of them said, "No. He walked on the water."
Sunday, March 14, 2010
FYI
Third quarter ended Friday. We are picking up speed on the downhill slide to the end of the school year. Not that I am so excited about it this year. That means my throat-cutting ordeal with the thyroid nodule is imminent. Have I mentioned that I am not looking forward to that surgery?
Posting will be sporadic during the upcoming week. Think few and far between until Friday. The #1 son has a district choir concert Monday night, and we have Parent Conferences on Tuesday and Thursday night. Unless something really interesting or maddening happens, I won't be singing my song of woe for a short while.
Posting will be sporadic during the upcoming week. Think few and far between until Friday. The #1 son has a district choir concert Monday night, and we have Parent Conferences on Tuesday and Thursday night. Unless something really interesting or maddening happens, I won't be singing my song of woe for a short while.
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