My Naughty Halloween Costume

You know how girls always dress like whores for halloween? Because they figure they can get away with it under the guise of a caring nurse? It's always naughty nurse, or naughty school girl, or naughty librarian, or naughty bunny, etc. Well, after a quick chat with Kaitlynn about Halloween and whether or not we should wear costumes, I've since decided to both comply and defy society's stereotype of female costumes.

I'm going to be a naughty eskimo.

What would such a costume look like, you ask? Any fishnets? Heels? Bunny tails? Well, there will be fur involved, of course. And puffy coats and pants. Plus snow shoes. Covered head to toe, baby. Instead of dressing like a skank, I will try to cover and fatten myself as much as possible. I'll look like a walking marshmallow. What makes a naughty eskimo different from a regular eskimo? I will carry a whip, of course.

For my sled dog.

This woman is the shiz.

What's in my purse

I used to say "You know you're an activities director/RA when you walk around with a roll of masking tape on your arm and a marker in your back pocket." When do you know you're a teacher? Let me list the contents of my purse:

wallet
cell phone
concealer stick
3 pens
a gluestick
granola bar
plaid Scottie dog coin purse that Katie gave me (from London)
sticky note with team points on it
snip of poster board with another teacher's number written on it
4 binder rings
pad of miniature sized sticky notes
lip gloss
receipt from the Learning Palace
hand drawn map of how to get to another school
ATM receipt
flashing Oktoberfest button
phone number of a child's parent

That was all inside the main compartment. I have two little outside pouches that hold:

an individual wet wipe
calculator
Valsetz cheezy stix order form (circa 2006) that has a funny note written on the back
slip of paper with the alarm code to my parents' house
Target receipt for shoes I bought 2 years ago but have never worn

And my purse is relatively small. We're not talking a huge hobo bag that you could fit a baby in.

A Date with Mr. DeCrepitt

I’m from a small town that never really catered to bored teens itching to find adventure. Because options were slim and personal finances were slimmer, my sister and I created our own excitement. Ever since my sophomore year of high school, my parents left my sister and I home a lot on the weekends because they drove down to Florence to work on resuscitating our century old lake house. Call me crazy, but leaving your two teenagers at home alone regularly doesn’t sound like a stellar idea, innocent though they may seem. The ’rents still don’t really know it, but we got into a lot of trouble on those weekends.

One time my sister and I went out for dinner and I ended up throwing away my $200 retainer on accident. My sister refused to drive me back to town to search for it in the garbage bins at 11pm.

Another time we had an infamous and nearly fatal party on New Year’s Eve, which ended up ruining the lives of at least four people, mine included.

On another occasion my sister and I both almost got arrested for forgery. But all those are separate stories for a separate time.

Like I said before, we created our own excitement. One of our more mild weekends involved a hospital visit. I was watching TV at four o’clock on a Friday when it all started.
“Hey, Jo! What do you want to do tonight?”
“I dunno.”
“Do you want to go out for dinner?” Jess asked.
“I don’t have much money.”

Which is why we decided to get dressed up and drive to the hospital. Most people think hospital food is wretched and tastes like cardboard, but I got news for you—it tastes good some places. And it was cheap. My sister and I drove into town, parked in the non-ER parking area, and went in for some good dinner. We thought we’d look at the new babies afterward. You know, press our dirty fingers to the window and breathe on the glass, like the babies are the penguin exhibit at the zoo. Maybe we’d see some doctors there as well, if we were lucky.

A lot of people hate hospitals because that’s where people die. People get born there, too, but this is hardly on the forefront of most people’s minds. Everyone serving the food at the hospital is really nice, because they assume that if you are at the hospital long enough to get hungry, then most likely something miserable has happened to someone you love. Excellent service and they don’t expect you to tip. Another thing I like about the food in hospital cafeterias is that a lot of it is yummy soft foods, like applesauce, mashed potatoes, jell-o, and chocolate pudding. It’s what is left over after they feed the sick people. Price reduction!

After eating our fill, Jess and I were looking for some entertainment. Free entertainment. We decided to go to the retirement center about 10 minutes away. Our great-grandmother had lived there before she died, and we knew there was a pool table on the floor she used to live on. Playing free pool with old people is considerably more appealing than playing $5 pool with hard-core smokers at the bowling alley.

Getting into a retirement center is just as difficult as getting into a hot LA night club. They don’t let just anybody in. After we got to the building and walked close to the door, we saw a sign posted. It said that all guests had to be at least 18 years old unless they were accompanied by an adult. They card you to get into nursing homes. At that moment I could just envision my 18^th birthday. “I’m going to buy a lottery ticket, a pack of cigarettes, visit a porn shop, oh, and finally get into that nursing home…”

Since my sister and I were not 18, we would have a challenge. All of the other times we had come to visit it had been during the afternoon (when old people are most coherent) and with our mother. Two teenagers could not just walk into a nursing home at 7:30 on a Friday night and not get noticed. Which is why we decided to create a diversion.

“How about when we get inside the door, we just jump inside of the elevator and ride it up before someone can stop us?” my sister suggested. Like that was the most inconspicuous way to do it.

“How about not,” I replied. “What we need to do is fit in. We can go to the grocery store, buy some flowers, carry them in front of our faces, and just take them upstairs like we are visiting our grandma.” It seemed legit.

A lot of the same people who hate hospitals despise nursing homes as well. It’s mostly because of the smell. Sure, the people may stink of 70 year old wool sweaters and orthopedic shoes, but you gotta love those toothless (or dentured) smiles that you receive. And you really feel the love when so many people are fighting over you, saying you must be their granddaughter. They also like to play Bingo, or card games for low-stakes nickels. Another good thing about this particular nursing home was the quality of their pool table. It wasn’t stained, or ripped, and none of the balls were missing. We really wanted to get in. Which is why we were hoping our plan would work.

You have no idea how expensive a crappy pot of flowers is. Jess and I looked all over the store for a cheap-o balloon, plastic bush, or anything that could pass as a loving gift to a grandmother. The idea was to play pool for free, not for $17.99 worth of flowers. Discouraged and defeated, we returned to the nursing home empty-handed. Could we get in without proper identification or artificial plants?

Bravely, we approached the door. Then we saw another sign. No visitors after 8pm. It was 8:07. Our efforts to procure a diversion had cost us time. Saddened that we couldn’t get into an old folks’ home, we went home to watch a movie and find new mischief.

You can see why I am such an exciting person. I mean, who wants dinner and a movie when you can dine at the hospital and then shoot pool at a retirement center? If that doesn’t make your heart beat faster, what will? Certainly not your new pacemaker.

Fung Shawinging

Two out of the three plants in my classroom have died. That must be why I am experiencing bad Chi. You know, Feng Shui for the classroom and all that. Their death may have something to do with the fact that there are no windows for natural sunlight. Or that I forgot to water them before that one weekend. I think I am going to buy a bamboo plant to replace the dead shrubs, because I've had the same bamboo plant at home for like, 3 years and it's still alive. I think it's important to have living things in the classroom because it helps add some energy and life. Dead plants = lethargic students. Donations, anyone?

Juliet

"It's the kind of jump in your stomach that makes you feel sick for half a second, but wish would happen again."



One of my favorite authors, Meg Cabot, posted this video on her blog. I liked it even though I'm not a country music fan. It kind of makes me want to watch Pride and Prejudice this weekend.

"Sir, more than kisses, letters mingle souls." --John Donne

Sexual harassment tip

All teachers in the district are required to take an on-line sexual harassment prevention course. It takes all of 10 minutes and you fill out a test at the end. I copy and pasted my favorite slide.

"To be safe, avoid comments on dress and appearance except of the most general kind, (i.e., You sure look bright and cheery today!). If you feel an impulse to tell the person how beautiful her blue eyes are, or how handsome his rugged jaw is, back off! You're over the line."

Because I've definitely wanted to comment on someone's rugged jaw before. Man, it is a good thing I kept my lips zipped. Tomorrow I'll tell someone they look bright and cheery. Though it will probably be a lie.

Teachers are also required to take a child abuse reporting course. While child abuse is no laughing matter, I found I could relate to the information from this slide:

"Poisoning is also a form of physical abuse. For example, Joey tells you that it hurts to swallow. When asked to tell you more, he explains that he got in trouble and his mom made him eat hot peppers.

Poisoning may involve:
forcing a child to drink excessive amounts of water
intentionally misusing prescription medication."

When I was eight my dad paid me twenty-five cents to drink a quart of water in under five minutes. I was afraid I wouldn't make the time, so I chugged really fast and got it down in three minutes. The water was in a rinsed out quart jar that previously held applesauce. This means the water tasted like applesauce, which wasn't so great. I felt sick afterwards, didn't eat dinner, but I was a silver president richer.

Classroom Pictures!

Sorry I am a liar and never wrote on Thursday. Let me get you caught up on the classroom news: basically, my kids are losing teeth like pirates with scurvy. I have had four kids lose teeth while in class. This causes a disruption because they hold the bloody thing up in the air for all to see and then freak out. This girl came up to the front while I was teaching and showed me her tooth, and I said "Okay, go back to your seat, I will get you a Ziploc bag to put it in in a moment." Because it's not like an injury. Sure, there might be some blood, but really, it's fine.

Last Wednesday I had my kids write a page called "What do you wonder?" It's my favorite writing activity because the kids come up with some really unique things. What they write can cause a lurch in your stomach, or make you crack up laughing. My favorites from two different kids were "I wonder who it will be, John McKain or Barack O'bottom," and "I wonder if I will ever get a goochie wallet." Fourth graders! Love it.

I finally took pictures of my classroom. It's already starting to get a bit messy, FYI.

Remember this ugly terror?

I painted it. Here is the corner. It's the check-in station.

There's the Self-Manager reward system, and the table where I pull small groups. I forgot to water those purple flowers on Friday, so they will probably be dead tomorrow.

This is the supply area.
Still stuck with mustard cabinets.

This is the front of the room.

Sadly, these are all of the books we have in the classroom. We're reading Around the World in 80 Days by Jules Verne and marking on the world map where Mr. Fogg stops while traveling.
My desk area. Notice you don't see a chair. This is because I sit on a giant body ball instead. Not that I've been doing much sitting.

That's basically my classroom. I didn't take pictures of the student desks, but their arranged in groups of four. Now I need to go grocery shopping so I can eat lunch next week, and I have to do lesson plans, so I will write later.

Love.

80 MPH

Hot tub.
Falling Star.
Malibu.
Roller skates.
Barack O'Bottom.
"Goochie" wallets.
Oktoberfest.

I will try and write tomorrow, or Thursday for sure!

#&!*%

I have survived my first day ever as a teacher. I also made it through my second day. Surprisingly, I did not: 1) pass out, 2) throw up, 3) cry, 4) hide in the supply closet after lunch. No, I made it, folks! The past two days with my kiddos have been pretty good. I've got about 3 boys that I need to keep an eye on, but for the most part the kids seem pretty decent. In case you were wondering about demographics, I have 28 students, including 2 white kids, 2 Asian kids, 2 kids from the Marshall Islands, and 22 Hispanic kids. Not that I really care. It's just a bit more work. And it's kind of harder to recognize all the kids in my class because they sort of all look the same at this point. Sadly, I have not yet taken pictures of my freshly painted classroom. I might take some on Friday, but most likely not till Monday because I'm actually not quite done with the set-up yet, since I ran out of time.

In case you were wondering, after my second day of school I am sitting in front of my computer with a quesadilla and a b*tch beer. It's not that it was way rough, just super tiring.

Who started the whole star* out th*ng anyway? We all kn*w wh@t the w^rd $ays anyway. %&#@ I am exhausted. &*!@ and $%!**
%$#!& #@*&^% and @$%# &^!* too!

$&#* Jason Mesinck for not approving me on the friend request I sent him. Who wouldn't want to be my amigo?

I need to go order my bridesmaid dress tomorrow. And then I plan on sleeping a lot this weekend. Hopefully.