28 March 2009


The other day one of my special ed kids came running up to me in a panic. When he got to my door and caught his breath enough to call my name three times, I expected him to tell me that there was a fight somewhere, or someone had passed out in the hallway, or something equally worthy of panic. Instead he exclaimed, "Miss, I heard that pregnant girls aren't supposed to wear heels." Having never researched the recommended footwear for pregnant women I wasn't quite sure what the best response was. I decided there must be more to the story and settled for a non-committal "OK" and waited for him to elaborate. He indignantly pointed down the hallway and shouted loudly "Well that girl is wearing heels, and I know for a fact that she's pregnant." Surely, when a 10th grader is pregnant she has bigger problems than the kind of shoes she is wearing.

After I assured him that no one was in immediate danger of death or dismemberment he became more contemplative:
"Miss I never be seein you wear heels."
"No you don't. I don't like them because I don't think they're comfortable."
"Oh. So you're not pregnant?"
"No I'm not."
"Oh. OK"

24 March 2009


I moved recently. This would be an approprate time to mention the fact that I got married...On March 14th...In Nauvoo. It was fun. So I now drive twice as far to get to school every day. This means I get up much earlier than any person on the planet should. I have now gotten up before 5:00 two days in a row, and am eagerly counting down until the last day of school on June 5th. Ever the optimist, my husband, The Texan, asked me what I like most about the morning. Without hesitation I answered that I love my toothbrush. I have written about my toothbrush before, but that was in my pre-blog days. I feel that it is again time to discourse on the awesomeness of my toothbrush:

I want you all to know that I have a rather delightful toothbrush. I acquired this delightful instrument of dental hygiene in the fairly recent past. Having discovered that my old toothbrush had reached the end of its usefulness I embarked on a quest to replace it. It was not a mission for the feint of heart. I searched far and wide, high and low, to the ends of the toothpaste isle at Target. Just as I was about to give up hope in achieving my goal of owning a toothbrush that was not boring, I caught a glimpse of the most humorous toothbrush I ever have beheld. Much to my delight I discovered that the toothbrush I desired came in a double package. I quickly tossed it in my cart, collected the rest of the items on my list, and triumphantly took my newfound treasure to the checkout stand where I purchased it.

It is a purple crayola toothbrush. Yes, Crayola makes more than just crayons, markers, and paints. The toothbrush looks just like a crayola marker with the brand name emblazoned in the middle of a purple oval and purple squiggly lines around the top and bottom. The head of the toothbrush contains a rainbow of bristles in four different colors. The most practical feature of this toothbrush, and my personal favorite, is the suction cup at the bottom. When I am finished using my toothbrush I can stand it up on the counter AND IT STAYS THERE! Despite heavy traffic across the counter of make-up containers, hair dryers, and contact solution, my toothbrush stays standing upright exactly where I have put it. On days when I am feeling particularly unconventional I can even stick my toothbrush to the mirror and it stays there too; protruding out horizontally and waiting until it is needed again.

And fortunately for me my toothbrush will still be pretty darn amazing even when I don't have to wake up before 5 am.

03 March 2009


I normally give the kids at least 3 chances before I kick them out of class. John used up all three chances within the first minute of class. He refused to sit down, pushed all of the papers off another student’s desk, and then threw his notebook at me. I’m not sure what was going on with him, but when projectiles are thrown directly at me I lose my patience. I sent him outside. This was not a few minutes of time out to cool off and regroup; rather it was a full blown exile. I told him to take his desk, his book, and his assignment, and that he was not coming back into class.

Undeterred, John continued to interrupt my class from the hallway. He jiggled the doorknob, banged on my window, and shouted obscenities in Spanish. At this point assistance from an administrator might have been useful, but they were all busy filling out paperwork for Umbridge. The rest of the class miraculously ignored the hallway distraction and produced some remarkable work on the French Revolution. As I contemplated my options, the noise in the hallway suddenly stopped. Under normal circumstances this would have made me nervous. But, although I was somewhat curious about what had captured John’s attention, I was happy for the silence and didn’t investigate further.

A few minutes later a student sitting next to the door said “Miss, you’ve got mail.” Somewhat bewildered I walked over to see what he was talking about. I discovered that John had pushed a piece of paper under the door. I unfolded the paper and read the following message:

“Diary Entry: High school revolution camp
I got sent outside. Oh so cold. Everything seems lonely. I think I got frostbite on my toes, but I’ll be fine. I’m almost done with my assignment. All I got for survival is girl scout cookies, but they are almost gone. I have a camp fire which is almost out. I used my text book for the fire, and my seat for shelter. My days are now fading so I write to keep my fingers from freezing. My Mohawk broke off that’s how cold it is.”

Although I was highly entertained I did not rescind my order of exile. John was not invited back into class.