Random March Madness

Just a few random thoughts to get me through until spring break officially starts tomorrow at 4:00...

Today a student told me, "My mom said you'd be really skinny if you'd just drink a lot of water." I used to like that kid.

I ran early this beautiful, chilly morning under a full moon while listening to Jason Mraz sing "Bella Luna." Very cool.

I love this time of year because it's the only time you can get Reese's peanut butter eggs. They're WAY better than regular Reese's cups because of the peanut butter to chocolate ratio. Mmmm.

I hate this time of year because, either everyone in my neighborhood has forgotten to bathe this entire week, or the Bradford pears are blooming.

I love this time of year because the dogwoods, forsythia, tulips, daffodils, and plum trees are also blooming and it's so impossibly lovely.

I hate this time of year because all that blooming stuff sends my kids and me into an allergy tailspin.

I love this time of year because it's not too hot yet.

I hate this time of year because I'm still too fat for my spring clothes, but it's too pretty to keep wearing my dreary winter clothes.

I love this time of year because I can start wearing skirts and sandals again.

But I hate this time of year because I have to shave my legs every day.

I woke up in the middle of the night last night with nightmares about TCAP. My students' scores, not my own kids. The ones that used to rent my womb will do fine. It's the ones I'm supposed to teach that stress me out.

Why does the super-fast-drying nail polish chip so darn soon? My nails are so stinking cute in their hot pink polish...if only it wouldn't chip two days after I polish them.

We were watching Buzz Aldrin on Dancing with the Stars the other night.

Digression: bless his heart--the man cannot dance; and how many freakin' space program/NASA/lunar landing T-shirts does he own!?! As they said on the show: We get it, already. You went to the moon. I went to Dollywood, but you don't see me wearing that T-shirt everywhere. Sorry, back to the story...

My younger son had just pooped a cloud of despair in the boys' shared bathroom. His older brother was scolding him for not using the air freshener spray before he left the bathroom. Then Twelve said, "Go back in there and see if it stinks. If it does, use the spray." Nine stood in the bathroom doorway, preparing to go in. Then he turned to us and said, very seriously, "I'm about to take one giant sniff for mankind." I don't think I've laughed so hard all month.

More reasons I love living in Hendersonville:
1) I saw twenty deer on my way home from school today.
2) My mom helped me survive the last hour of the school day when she brought me an iced coffee for no good reason except that she loves me.
3) Garage sales with Mom are way more fun than garage sale-ing alone.
4) Being employed is a very good thing.
5) Running/walking the dog along the lake is spiritually soothing--even if I have to keep pulling her away from the goose-poop buffet.
6) Having a TWO-WEEK spring break. Seventeen days off, baby!!!!

Spring Fever

Somehow I have to dig deep down and find the strength to teach Two More Days before I can enjoy seventeen days off.

Lord, please give me the energy, courage, and fortitude to get through it. :-)

The Girl Cave

My twelve-year-old came racing into the room and said, "Mom! Quick! Before my brother comes back, I need you to help me find a base camp!"

Me: Huh? What kind of base camp?

Twelve: You know, like a secret lair.

Me: Hello? I'm the only girl in this house. Don't you think if I could come up with some kind of secret lair I'd be in it all the time and you jokers would never find me?

Twelve: Oh yeah. Good point.

Brainy Brewer Boys

I'm happy to report that none of my boys' teachers had to resort to comments like "you've reached a new level of mediocrity," on their report cards since they both made straight As.

Again.

As they have for the entire school year.

YAY!!

Keep Up the Good Work

I was working on my class' report card comments tonight and I realized that I was completely abusing the phrase, "keep up the good work." I started trying out variations like the following:

You've maintained a consistent level of excellence.
Continue doing your best work.
I'm proud of you. Keep it up!
Way to go, again.
Awesome as always. (I awarded myself bonus points for the use of assonance.)

My students usually have really good grades. Most of them work very hard and most are above average, with a few exceptions. I love my class and I am truly proud of them 98% of the time. At first I sincerely meant every utterance of Keep up the good work.

But then I started running out of ideas. The praise well had run dry. For some of my students the praise came easy. It flowed from my brain, through my fingers, and onto the computer screen. I freely used adjectives like awesome, great, fantastic, super, wonderful, amazing, incredible, and a couple of times I even said tremendous. For others students, I had to really concentrate, hold my tongue just right, and do some serious creative writing just to get enough words to fill that rectangle on the card.

And I wondered why.

I started looking at the megawatt intelligence kids who always make straight As because they work hard and they care what their grades are. Then I looked at the kids who are not super-bright, but they have character out the wazoo and they work twice as hard as the straight A kids just to get Bs.

Then there were the kids who don't have the same advantages as the others. They come from single parent homes. Or homes with so many kids that the parents can't possibly give them one-on-one attention so they have to fend for themselves. Or the wonderful, caring two-parent families who are working two jobs just to put food on the table and can't be home every night to work on homework and preparing for tests. Those kids try and try and might never make above a C but they never give up.

Then there are the kids who frustrate me the most. These are the kids who have every advantage, but they take it for granted. They're the ones who don't make any effort and then act like the world owes them an apology when they make a B. The kids whose Moms make excuses for their behavior when the teachers dare to discipline them. The same kids whose Moms call the principal if their kid makes a C, because they haven't bothered to check their child's graded work each week. The parents who complain that the teacher isn't doing her job, despite the fact that said teacher has been sending home late work notices for weeks and the parents have neglected to sign them.Those are the kids for whom I struggle to write report card comments.

There are only so many ways that you can say, "Congratulations. Once again you've made the A- B Honor Roll. Because your parents have decided to show up in your life and help you out every step of the way, you continue to barely reach the bar which was set by those kids whose parents can't get off their lazy butts to help their kids score above a C. Ever. But they work ten times harder for that C than you ever thought about working for your As and Bs. Yay for you."

Or, "Congratulations on having the good fortune to be born to a rich father so that your Mommy can stay home and devote her every waking moment to you and the completion of your homework. Because of her efforts, you've made the Honor Roll once again. Whoopdy Freakin Doo."

When what I really want to say to some of my kids is, "Way to go, punkin. Despite the fact that your parents suck at life, you've once again managed to score in the dead center of average. You've landed in the 50th percentile for your grade level completely independently, without the help of any responsible adult in your life. I'm so proud of you. Keep on truckin."

ARGH! See why I stopped at "Keep up the good work"? I should never be encouraged to write what I really think.

Wait. What?!

Two different conversations overheard in the car today on our very short commute home from school...

Nine: We had two different colored balls, but neither one of them was blue.

I can only assume that he was talking about playground balls at recess. Because I have a twisted mind and I'm very immature, I found this sentence hilarious.

Twelve: Aw, look at that cute little kid playing in his yard.

With a very large stick.

Which he's wielding like a giant sword.

Yikes. His parents might want to consider anger management classes or something.


Yes, ladies and gentlemen, my kids are as weird as their mother.

Grounded?

My oldest child just walked into the den, where I was deeply engrossed in Wheel of Fortune and asked me, "Uh, Mom? Didn't you ground me yesterday for something?"

Me: Um. Yeah. I, um, I kinda forgot about that.

Him: Really?

Me: Yeah. Not my best parenting moment, huh?

Him: I don't mind it so much.

Me: Well, it kind of robs me of some of my parenting power, don't you think?

Him: It's okay. I'll pretend I'm terrified of you again tomorrow.

Me: Thanks, kid. You're all heart.

Him: What can I say? I'm a giver.