All I hear is a high pitching mewwing sound---I cannot even make out the words. I am Charlile Brown, and the kids making these sounds are the teacher. This whining began early this morning, with my son, Gus, meowing in his ultra fem, high pitched, voice. Why?? He knows there are turkey cold cuts in the fridge. He is obsessed and has been known to pull them out and rip open the bag. He is a binge eater of healthy proteins. That was annoying and I am totally enabling the morning begging, as i throw him (and Sheba) some scraps.
The whining continued this morning with some of my students. Imagine nails on a chalboard, times it by 20, then do it all over again. Sometimes the whining is accompanied by an expression that can best be described as the face of constipation.
These are the days as wish that
1. When I do have kids that don't have four legs, a tail and poop in a box, they are boys who do not whine.
2. I could drink at work.
3. Really scream out the window, loud enough for people to rush into my classroom thinking I am having a psychotic break, when really, I am just letting off steam.
4. I could tell the kids what I was really thinking as opposed to keeping a straight face and maintaining patience in my voice.
AAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGGGG!
@@@@@@@%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%**************&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&!!
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
Thursday, January 21, 2010
THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE IS SERIOUSLY ODD
Part of being a teacher requires that we attend meetings for professional development. Ordinarily, these meetings are a waste of time, as we are already just so professionally developed. In actuality, they are a waste of time because we aren't discussing anything new or the leaders of the meetings are beating "hot topics" and educational buzz words to death. But yesterday, during the final episode of "Big Bird and Jenny From the Block Do Differentiated Instruction", the meeting was interesting. We actually participated and it was sincere as opposed to Richie speaking up and saving us all from an uncomfortable silence and a sudden inabilty to make eye contact with anyone.
For the second year in a row, we have had to do mini-lessons on root words in an effort to improve our students abysmal vocabulary skills. We reviewed some statistics based on our kids (the program seems to be yielding results) and then discussed how we aquire language. Without boring you with the logistics of this meeting, I will get to the point of this. All the talk about language and our interactions with it got me thinking about at the prefix 'EX' (as in external, excommunication, exit, export) and the letter 'X'. Perhaps it had something to do with a guerilla warfare style attack a la Facebook the night before, but suddenly, this meeting was very intriguing and a bit stimulating to the nerd deep inside of me that I have come to love and respect.
I was married to someone else before Josh. It was a huge mistake, but nonethess a worthwhile one because it forced me to grow up, grow a set, and to confront the reasons why I my self esteem was so low. The girl (note GIRL, not WOMAN, or M'AAM) I am today is 360 degrees from the girl I was then, and I have been told that at times, I am force to be reckoned with. That is a compliment, by the way. But anyway, back to the wasband. I was with him for 7 years to the day prior to our wedding and married to him for a bit over a year on paper. His family is part of my history, and vice versa. For me, Facebook is one part world where I get to speak to my real friends everyday and one part world of fake friends who help me rack up my numbers in the total friends column. I think it is cool because it lets you place 6 degrees of Kevin Bacon, but you are the starting point. I also love that I have been able to reconnect with people from college who kind of got lost at the wayside when reality took over and I was unable to sync the past with the present. I discovered on Facebook family members from the past and they discovered me too. Needless to say, my narcissitic, psychotic, manipulative, douchebag of an EX (i was actually very nice just now) discovered,after about two years of online interaction/noninteraction, that I was FB "friends" with his kin. So, in a serious of nasty and disgusting emails a la FB, he accused me of this and that, blah,blah, blah. The whole thing was quite entertaining for my friends and me, but the point is,the English language does make sense, despite it's crazy rules. 'EX' and 'X'----ex-husband, ex-wife, ex-BFF(A.E) all carry a negative connotation. We know this because the prefix -EX means out or out of. Exes are out of your life. When you get an answer wrong on a test, you put an X through it. When you cross something off of a list with an X, you are done with it.
So, I have begun a new love affair with the English language,reminiscent of the day Mrs. White, my first grade teacher, told us that after lunch we were going to begin learning how to read. I literally skipped out of school that afternoon....
But the point is, vocabulary is aquired best and makes the most sense when we can figure out a way to relate it to us. I am clearly unable to relate to the EX I just described, as it is difficult for me to do so with mental patients that are not on their meds anymore....See how easy that was!And now,i must EXit.
For the second year in a row, we have had to do mini-lessons on root words in an effort to improve our students abysmal vocabulary skills. We reviewed some statistics based on our kids (the program seems to be yielding results) and then discussed how we aquire language. Without boring you with the logistics of this meeting, I will get to the point of this. All the talk about language and our interactions with it got me thinking about at the prefix 'EX' (as in external, excommunication, exit, export) and the letter 'X'. Perhaps it had something to do with a guerilla warfare style attack a la Facebook the night before, but suddenly, this meeting was very intriguing and a bit stimulating to the nerd deep inside of me that I have come to love and respect.
I was married to someone else before Josh. It was a huge mistake, but nonethess a worthwhile one because it forced me to grow up, grow a set, and to confront the reasons why I my self esteem was so low. The girl (note GIRL, not WOMAN, or M'AAM) I am today is 360 degrees from the girl I was then, and I have been told that at times, I am force to be reckoned with. That is a compliment, by the way. But anyway, back to the wasband. I was with him for 7 years to the day prior to our wedding and married to him for a bit over a year on paper. His family is part of my history, and vice versa. For me, Facebook is one part world where I get to speak to my real friends everyday and one part world of fake friends who help me rack up my numbers in the total friends column. I think it is cool because it lets you place 6 degrees of Kevin Bacon, but you are the starting point. I also love that I have been able to reconnect with people from college who kind of got lost at the wayside when reality took over and I was unable to sync the past with the present. I discovered on Facebook family members from the past and they discovered me too. Needless to say, my narcissitic, psychotic, manipulative, douchebag of an EX (i was actually very nice just now) discovered,after about two years of online interaction/noninteraction, that I was FB "friends" with his kin. So, in a serious of nasty and disgusting emails a la FB, he accused me of this and that, blah,blah, blah. The whole thing was quite entertaining for my friends and me, but the point is,the English language does make sense, despite it's crazy rules. 'EX' and 'X'----ex-husband, ex-wife, ex-BFF(A.E) all carry a negative connotation. We know this because the prefix -EX means out or out of. Exes are out of your life. When you get an answer wrong on a test, you put an X through it. When you cross something off of a list with an X, you are done with it.
So, I have begun a new love affair with the English language,reminiscent of the day Mrs. White, my first grade teacher, told us that after lunch we were going to begin learning how to read. I literally skipped out of school that afternoon....
But the point is, vocabulary is aquired best and makes the most sense when we can figure out a way to relate it to us. I am clearly unable to relate to the EX I just described, as it is difficult for me to do so with mental patients that are not on their meds anymore....See how easy that was!And now,i must EXit.
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
WHY AM I SERIOUSLY A SPECIAL ED.TEACHER?
There are 2 questions that follow my response of "I'm a teacher" when people ask me what 'I do'. They are: 1. What do you teach? and 2. What grade? Both of my answers yield overwhelmingingly sympathetic responses which can be interpreted in numerous ways. But who care what anyone else thinks! My interpretation is that people have now deduced that I am a patient individual with a penchant for the underdog (true) and slightly nuts (false. I am a lot nuts).
While it takes a certain kind of person to be a special education teacher (whatever that means), it definately takes a certain kind of person to teach middle school. That, my 6 followers, is a topic for later, but I assure you, a very entertaining one as major hormones are involved. But as for special ed, I have learned to be patient, to stand my ground, and to set my expecations based on the child I am working with. And I learned all of that just yesterday! No, seriously, yesterday was MLK's birthday and though I have been teaching for 11 years, those are skills that are still be refined. The toughest lesson for me to learn is that my students, past, present and future, are not always going to be successful during the 180 school days that they are my charge. It's so frustrating when you know that someowhere, deep inside, a child has the potential to be so much more than what they think they are, whether it be due to laziness or fear that they will fail or worse, fear that they will succeed. How terrible does it feel to fail after you have succeeded? How much higher is the bar raised when you show the world you can do it? There are times when I see less than lackluster performance amongst my students. Beyond the obvious reasons of the average day to day activities in school being more of a challenge (imagine being a regular kid in all advanced classes), the emotional aspects of the middle school years and a tweens personal life (home life) really play into their performance. Top that off with MEGA IMMATURITY.
So when a kid walks across the stage at their 8th grade "moving up"ceremony, I hope that they will figure IT out. The IT is different for each one of them, just as it is for us. Then, I see one of my old students who we used to refer to as 'Meatball' (he was pudgy and Italian....mean of us I suppose) waiting in his car for his sister to get out of school. I cannot recognize him because he looks like a man but he recognizes me despite my radical hair color change and tells me excitedly that he will be going to college and that he has options. "See, I started to do my work! I'm going to college, but I'm still short!" "Oh, and you were right...I could do it all along." Then as I am leaving work on Friday afternoon, another former student is walking towards me in the hall, dangling car keys in her hand.
Me: "Hey, Britt!"
Britt: "You remember me?"
Me: "Of course I do...you are taller, clearly drive now, but you have the same face."
Britt: "Guess what? I am doing well in school now. I want to be a speech pathologist. I applied to x,y,z college. I AM GOING TO COLLEGE!"
And so, in the end, my kids figure it out. With a tear in my eye, I cannot help but feel proud and confident that the ones we know can make it, will make it. That in the end, the pieces will fall into place for them. And I would like to think that somewhere along they way, they will remember me or something that I said, that helped get them to where they are, in the same way that I remember them.
While it takes a certain kind of person to be a special education teacher (whatever that means), it definately takes a certain kind of person to teach middle school. That, my 6 followers, is a topic for later, but I assure you, a very entertaining one as major hormones are involved. But as for special ed, I have learned to be patient, to stand my ground, and to set my expecations based on the child I am working with. And I learned all of that just yesterday! No, seriously, yesterday was MLK's birthday and though I have been teaching for 11 years, those are skills that are still be refined. The toughest lesson for me to learn is that my students, past, present and future, are not always going to be successful during the 180 school days that they are my charge. It's so frustrating when you know that someowhere, deep inside, a child has the potential to be so much more than what they think they are, whether it be due to laziness or fear that they will fail or worse, fear that they will succeed. How terrible does it feel to fail after you have succeeded? How much higher is the bar raised when you show the world you can do it? There are times when I see less than lackluster performance amongst my students. Beyond the obvious reasons of the average day to day activities in school being more of a challenge (imagine being a regular kid in all advanced classes), the emotional aspects of the middle school years and a tweens personal life (home life) really play into their performance. Top that off with MEGA IMMATURITY.
So when a kid walks across the stage at their 8th grade "moving up"ceremony, I hope that they will figure IT out. The IT is different for each one of them, just as it is for us. Then, I see one of my old students who we used to refer to as 'Meatball' (he was pudgy and Italian....mean of us I suppose) waiting in his car for his sister to get out of school. I cannot recognize him because he looks like a man but he recognizes me despite my radical hair color change and tells me excitedly that he will be going to college and that he has options. "See, I started to do my work! I'm going to college, but I'm still short!" "Oh, and you were right...I could do it all along." Then as I am leaving work on Friday afternoon, another former student is walking towards me in the hall, dangling car keys in her hand.
Me: "Hey, Britt!"
Britt: "You remember me?"
Me: "Of course I do...you are taller, clearly drive now, but you have the same face."
Britt: "Guess what? I am doing well in school now. I want to be a speech pathologist. I applied to x,y,z college. I AM GOING TO COLLEGE!"
And so, in the end, my kids figure it out. With a tear in my eye, I cannot help but feel proud and confident that the ones we know can make it, will make it. That in the end, the pieces will fall into place for them. And I would like to think that somewhere along they way, they will remember me or something that I said, that helped get them to where they are, in the same way that I remember them.
Wednesday, January 13, 2010
Seriously Wednesday Night Spinners? A Letter to You
Dear people at Natalie's Wednesday Night 6:30 Spin Class,
It is so great to see you all here. I am glad I made it tonight. I tutor right before this and sometimes, depending on the workload, I need to stay a little later.Seriously, it was touch and go tonight. My client had some issues calculation interest and commission. Every now and then a work function prohibits me from missing class. People who know me well know that I do not make plans Wednesday nights; this class is part of my weekly routine. But tonight, some of you really got on my nerves. As a mature adult, I realize you are not really the problems. Rather, I am making YOU my problem. Before I send out some personal shout outs, just know that I kicked some serious ass tonight and my resistance was turned up higher than yours. WE WERE ON A HILL----fly wheels don't lie!! And even though I am having a Zone bar and glass of wine for dinner post class, just know that between that massive, 15 minute hill and the energy I have exerted writing this, I have already burned the calories off. SO,
1. Man in full riding ensemble: no need to moan in a sexual manner. The row behind you laughed at your vocals. The ride was good, but it was no orgasm worthy of sharing with a group full of strangers. How do you think your wife felt about that? She was on the bike next to you! Be assured, the row behind you shared a moment that has forever bonded us when we chuckled over your vocals and glanced at each other in a knowing way.
2. Girls who came in late: there were two bikes. By complaining to Natalie in the front of the room, ignoring the calls from fellow spinners that there were in fact bikes, you delayed the start of class. So you couldn't sit together for 50 minutes. This wasn't lunch in a middle school cafeteria or a 24 hour flight overseas. DEAL!!!! And FYI--you were late so your right to "your" bikes was ceded. Follow the damn rules.
3. Guy in bike shorts that leave nothing to the imagination....spill on aisle 3!!!clean up your sweat puddle !!! Put down a tarp or at least a plastic shower curtain. I will totally be the idiot who pulls the slip on a banana peel move and land in your fluids. Also--IT WAS A HILL!!!! Just because you pedal 2,500 revolutions per minute doesn't mean you are doing it right!
Love, Lisa
Monday, January 11, 2010
Are You There God? It's Me,Lisa...SERIOUSLY
This Monday is not getting off to a good start which is making me think that my choice to not call in sick to work today was a bad one. First, despite the miracle I prayed for, the alien life form on my lip is still there. (NOTE TO READER: when you have dry,chapped lips,do not pick at the skin even though you have a burning desire to wear lipstick that truly does pull "your look" together. What happens is, you infect it or SOMETHING, since it impossible to keep your hands completely germ free even though you wash them 20 times a day and use all sort of anti-bacterial accoutrement). Basically, if i had to travel by plane today, one of two or both of the following would probably happen:
1. I would be asked to purchase another seat for my "friend" on my lip or
2. I would be whisked away by customs, etc.and asked to pull the explosive out of my lip. (yes, i just made a joke about terrorism--jokes are how I deal with the bad)
I suppose I am fortunate, as I had great skin through my teen years, through my carb loading in college (note: copious amounts of pizza and beer) and basically up until around this past Friday. Good thing I am going to the dermatologist today,lovingly referred to by my friend Jill as Dr. Pimplestein. This is not her name,but sounds damn close to it. The cold shower that began my Monday (GOD--how about a burning hot one tonight after spin and then tomorrow morning--you OWE ME) could be indicitave of a bad report for my sun damaged skin,although I am not hoping for that as the outcome. In the early 90's, "just the ten of us" would take the bus to the beach before we could drive and tan for hours. We would coat ourselves in oil, nary a hat, beach umbrella or even SPF 4 in sight. Burn baby, burn....and we were upset if we didn't go home that day (at dusk) without a resemblance to a lobster. I have treated my skin better over the years, as I am now up to SPF 30 and 45, but I am a sun worshipper at heart. GOD, please be kind to me during my full body skin-spection.
I need to wrap this one up and get on the road to work where my colleagues will mercifully make fun of my half swollen lip. I probably should not be wearing a jewel-toned pink turtleneck today which will surely draw attention to the fact that I am not wearing black, grey, or navy,thereby drawing attention to the "total package". In any case, the point I am making her is that I hope with steadfast prayer, God will grant me warm showers, a healed lip, and a good report about my skin. PRAY FOR ME!!
1. I would be asked to purchase another seat for my "friend" on my lip or
2. I would be whisked away by customs, etc.and asked to pull the explosive out of my lip. (yes, i just made a joke about terrorism--jokes are how I deal with the bad)
I suppose I am fortunate, as I had great skin through my teen years, through my carb loading in college (note: copious amounts of pizza and beer) and basically up until around this past Friday. Good thing I am going to the dermatologist today,lovingly referred to by my friend Jill as Dr. Pimplestein. This is not her name,but sounds damn close to it. The cold shower that began my Monday (GOD--how about a burning hot one tonight after spin and then tomorrow morning--you OWE ME) could be indicitave of a bad report for my sun damaged skin,although I am not hoping for that as the outcome. In the early 90's, "just the ten of us" would take the bus to the beach before we could drive and tan for hours. We would coat ourselves in oil, nary a hat, beach umbrella or even SPF 4 in sight. Burn baby, burn....and we were upset if we didn't go home that day (at dusk) without a resemblance to a lobster. I have treated my skin better over the years, as I am now up to SPF 30 and 45, but I am a sun worshipper at heart. GOD, please be kind to me during my full body skin-spection.
I need to wrap this one up and get on the road to work where my colleagues will mercifully make fun of my half swollen lip. I probably should not be wearing a jewel-toned pink turtleneck today which will surely draw attention to the fact that I am not wearing black, grey, or navy,thereby drawing attention to the "total package". In any case, the point I am making her is that I hope with steadfast prayer, God will grant me warm showers, a healed lip, and a good report about my skin. PRAY FOR ME!!
Thursday, January 7, 2010
Wednesday, January 6, 2010
MY WORK HUSBAND
So, we have heard the term "work husband" and "work wife". We spend an average of 8 hours a day with people other than our significant others (if we work), so it is only natural to form close, platonic bonds with our colleagues. Sometimes, people might even leave their spouses for their work husband or wife, but I digress and that is truly a story for another time. In any case, I am fortunate to call some of my work friends my best friends. I am also fortunate to have a work husband. Her name is Amanda. Amanda and I met a 7th grade orientation prior to the opening of the school year. It was my first year at our school. Amanda had on a tank top, skirt, wedge sandals and her toes were painted a shade somewhere between raspberry and watermelon. She quickly informed me of some work protocol and that morning laid the foundation of our friendship. I believe we truly became friends when I had to share a terrible discovery in the first floor ladies bathroom that
A. traumatized for me life,
B. exposed that I do have a talent for grossing others out,
C. exposed my ability to really get a feel for my audience and therefore know who can handle what and
D. began my mission and hobby of playing detective at work to determine those who commit crimes against good hygiene.
Are you ready for how my husband, Amanda and I really bonded? Okay--it is gross.
Back in 2002, our school only had fewer ladies rooms than we do now. Of the two (three if you include the handicapped bathroom where you need a step stool to hover since the toilet is so high), the one I was trying to use was soiled...I mean, someone, decided that it was cool to leave their Aunt Flo to her own devices on the seat of the toilet. Me, not really knowing many people, as it was day 2 of the school year (my first year), needed to share this. So, I bound up the stairs to my classroom where Amanda had hall duty and I shared this bit of information with her. We have been close ever since....see....I have a great read on my audience!
We would fantasize about co-teaching inclusion classes together and eventually our dream came true. We would perform skits for our classes which included dance moves, instruments, and with the addition of a SMARTBOARD, various video accompaniments or stills such as the yule for our holiday caroling. We also attended 3 wild concerts together: Rusted Root, Celine Dion, and the Ms. Spears Circus tour, all of which had their own funny set of circumstances.
WIth our love for music, of course, we had to have a song. Because there were times when either Amanda and I would come under fire for something or another, we were sure to have each others backs. I don't remember the particular instance that sparked my referral to Amanda as my "knight in shining armor", but she was and still is. So our song aptly became Peter Cetera's song "Glory of Love", which is also featured in the original Karate Kid. Here is the link of a live version if you are so inclined. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iO0ZfI7WWCQ
Amanda and I no longer co-teach together, but it doesn't matter; spouses who are also friends stick together. At night, Josh, the actual husband asks me, "Who are you texting?" and when I tell him my work husband, he says, "Tell Amanda I said hi!"
**Please note that Amanda does not normally dress as her mother in holiday garb. It was her outfit for tacky holiday sweater day.
Some Seriously Funny and Scary Things to Quote (and it is only 10:08 AM)
1. In Mexico, the people speak Mexican
(rating..SCARY)
2. In Korea, they only speak Chinese (more of a funny rating,
since tweens can't see past their own reflections)
3. A status on facebook (Ernie's) describing an overheard convo
between two old ladies regarding the size of something and how creamy it was.
(rating...FUNNY)
4. I cannot wear jeans on Friday, as my school is a Blue Ribbon School
(meaning people think we are amazing)(rating...SCARY)
Tuesday, January 5, 2010
Seriously, I Forgot About This
I seriously forgot that I was using pseudonyms for people, but I am bagging that idea unless you tell me otherwise. "Dylan" was code for Josh, my husband. His favorite singer in the world is Bob Dylan, hence the name choice A few years ago, Josh wanted to get a new tattoo on his leg and had the guy draw up a sketch of Bob's face and wild hair. This was to be placed on a calf or something. When push came to shove, I asked Josh if he thought Bob Dylan would ever feel so much love for him, whereby he would put his face (Josh's) on his leg.......needless to say, no new tattoos for my husband.
Seriously, I suck
I have not blogged since last year (bad joke) or rather, September 22. Seriously, I suck. Work caught me up and then life (a.k.a Facebook). Now I see that I have 3 followers, which is really 6 since it the Calabrettis are a family. Thank you for following me on this sarcastic and sometimes mean journey which is really a place where I don't actually need to filter, considering the people or places I would be referring to (should I keep up with this), don't read this!
A shout out to Steph Calabretti-- we lived in the basement of Newell Hall in a quad (big-ass suite) with 2 toilets and a shower---we were so lucky. Our rooms looked out to an alley way a la Laverne and Shirley stylo. I had a douchbag/psychotic boyfriend who had me under some crazy spell (READ: Fear fueled by low self esteem) and the rest of the girls who lived there were wild and crazy too. GOOD TIMES! GOOOOOOOOO TIGERS! Anyway, the fact that I have just logged on and I have seen you are a fan is a sign...My 5th New Year's Res: BLOG!
A shout out to Steph Calabretti-- we lived in the basement of Newell Hall in a quad (big-ass suite) with 2 toilets and a shower---we were so lucky. Our rooms looked out to an alley way a la Laverne and Shirley stylo. I had a douchbag/psychotic boyfriend who had me under some crazy spell (READ: Fear fueled by low self esteem) and the rest of the girls who lived there were wild and crazy too. GOOD TIMES! GOOOOOOOOO TIGERS! Anyway, the fact that I have just logged on and I have seen you are a fan is a sign...My 5th New Year's Res: BLOG!
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