And that is how I burned my students

Realization

4 days before the quarter ends is when the majority of students begin to care about their grade.

Start of class on that day equals chaos.

I have students surrounding me on all sides.

Throwing papers at me.

Shouting questions.

I feel as though I’m on Wall Street at a stock exchange.

Claustrophobia sets in.

Panic.

Demand they sit down. Attempt to start class.

My classroom door opens. I’m looking at two cops.

“There is a fire in your class,” one calmly announces as he shuts the door.

Thought 1—Not cops. Firemen.

Thought 2—A fire? Where? Why?

Thought 3—So that’s what the firemen look like.

Thought 4—Fire drill. I’m supposed to pull the fire alarm.

At this point students have resurrounded me.

Redemand they return to their seats.

Think.

Fire protocol has completely escaped me.

Announce as calmly as possible to Mrs. S. that there is a fire in the room.

She freaks out.

Forget to tell her about the firemen just repeat that there is a fire.

She spots the firemen. Freaks out more.

Realizes she doesn’t know where the fire alarm is and begins lifting papers off the walls.

Dashes into the hall.

Kids resurround me.

They try to exit the building. Like a good teacher I stop them.

Blaring noise.

Realize it is the fire alarm and have kids exit class.

Attempt to keep them together.

Am informed about 20 times that I “blend right in”.

Fireman informs me kids burned to death since I didn’t evacuate them.

Think of their attempts to leave the classroom.

Congratulate myself since they listened to me.

Question whether or not my grading was destroyed in the fire.

Fireman doesn’t think this is funny.

Informs me the school failed the fire drill.

Reenter classroom.

Attempt to make up for lost time.

It’s too late my kids are grumpy because I let them all burn to death.

Side note—For those of you who were worried, my grading was not destroyed.

Rather I put it to good use and built myself a fort.

Literally, I have a small forest that sits before me.

It makes me sad.

I donate a dollar to the “Save the Rainforest” campaign.

Cave Women and Bieber Fever

Teacher In-service today. Note: This day is better when you aren’t a teacher. As I sat listening (mostly doodling) to differentiated instruction techniques and summative assessment ideas I happened to notice a yummy piece of eye candy on my left. Kicker—I don’t think under normal circumstances I’d find this man attractive. Has dealing with tiny humans all day warped my view on attractive men?

Typical Week: Sunday—1:00 Church. 3 hours. Men my age. Or older. I’m not a complainer.

Monday-Friday—7:00 School. 8 hours. Boys. Age: 15-18. Baby faced, no facial hair, high voices.

I’m being dramatic. I have more adult interaction than that. I have my cooperating teacher. Mrs. S. I eat in the English Dept. office. All women.

If there is an opposite of the Bieber Fever then I think I’ve caught it. So have my roommates. Non-Bieber Fever—A condition where men (must be over the age of 21 to qualify) appear more attractive. Are the defined jaw lines, five o’clock shadows, and deep voices an illusion? Are we just deprived due to the forced interaction and somewhat constant attention of 16-year old children?

I must admit that after the “hitting on”, attempted flirty comments, and “whispered” words (Kids can’t whisper. The ability to hear everything they’re saying doesn’t even take effort.) I can’t help but enjoy the attentions of an actual man; once a week when I happen to run into one.

**Note: Hyperbole. The use of exaggeration as a rhetorical device. Minus my desire for a strong jaw line and scratchy face. It’s the cave woman in me.

Fast Cars and Vocab.

I write best at night. When everyone is asleep. No distractions. Lights out. Just me, a blanket, a pillow. The harsh glare of my computer increasing brain creativity. It’s 2:12 pm. My inner clock is not off. I simply am procrastinating.

When I tell someone I’m teaching high school the first thing they tell me is not to be one of “those teachers”. -Disclaimer. Because I look like I’m 16 does not mean I like 16 year old boys. Not to mention that’s illegal. And gross.-

Since moving to Vegas the amount of blushing I have done has increased. Exponentially. Of the 8 hours I spend “playing teacher” 6 of those are spent beet red and flushed. I have a half hour for lunch. I have a hour prep. Permanent sunburn. Completely believable.

A kid, or child if you will, asked me if I dated boys under 17. I don’t. But he has a car. I took this for some logical explanation as to why the rule should be broken. Life must be simpler at 16. I worry for the shock they will experience at 17 when suddenly life complicates. Teenage angst must triple.

I told the kids my age. I wish I’d had a camera to capture the horrified looks. Yes, children, 22 is indeed a dreadful old age.

Vocabulary word-Facetious.

Toga Parties and Cologne

The Ask:

I’m 17. I meet a guy. Later the same day I hear a tapping at my window. He’s throwing pebbles. Cute. He asks me on a date for that evening and then runs to my door to give me a rose. Sprayed with cologne. Lots. I think this may have been the most romantic set up to any date I have ever been on.

The Outfit:

Toga party. I don’t know if any girl has ever agonized over an outfit more than I did. I ended up decided on my light blue sheets. Classy. Three hours to get dressed was not nearly enough. In the end if I didn’t move too much the hundreds of safety pins would be sure to do their job.

The Date:

5:00. He picks me up. We are walking. In our togas. Across campus. The BYU Idaho campus isn’t that big but it’s big enough I don’t want to walk across it, especially in a toga. We arrive at the toga party. It doesn’t start till 9:00. Time: 5:15. Awesome. No back up plan. We go into the lounge. Play a game of pool. I win. Play another. I win again. We decide to play foosball. Better choice. We’re out of options. Time: 6:30. Remove togas. We sit and talk. We watch a movie. Time: 9:00. Music. Finally. Reapply togas. Exit lounge. I’m ready to dance. I love dancing. We decide to leave. Time 9:05. I’m disappointed. He takes me home.

The Lesson:

No toga parties. No dates with boys who spray roses with cologne.

Circle, circle. Dot, dot.

Recess. You’re six. The boys chase the girls. Circle, circle. Dot, dot. Now you’ve got the cootie shot. A little tyke named Chad chases a girl, Jessica. Down the slide. Across the monkey bars. Over the tires. Up the stairs. He catches her. Panic. Circle, circle. Square, square. Now you’ve got them everywhere. The game is simple. Boys chase girls. A moment in playground history. No one’s been caught before. This hasn’t been planned. Neither know what to do. Jessica acts. Grabs Chad’s arm. The arm that caught her. The arm that’s holding her. Bites. Hard. He yelps. Circle, circle. Knife, knife. Now you’ve got it all your life. He looks at her. Accuses. Runs away. Chase ensues. Capture. Threat. “If you ever tell anyone I’ll bite you again.”

I never was good at flirting. Circle, circle. Fire, fire. Now your shot will never expire.

How To Lose a Girl in 10 Days

I should be doing homework. Instead I think I’ll blog. In my favorite font. Comic Sans. Boys, this one’s for you:

How To Lose a Girl in 10 Days

RB. A mutual friend introduced us. K meant to introduce me to someone else but there was a twist in the story and I met RB.

First Night. K and I decided to go for a drive. RB decided to come along for the ride. We made it to the stadium parking lot. A quick distance visual: Standing on my balcony I can throw a stone farther than the stadium parking lot. A sneak peak inside the car: K drove. Driver’s seat. I called shotgun. Passenger’s seat. RB. Backseat. We’re talking and laughing and talking more. Suddenly, RB grabs my hand. From… the backseat…? RB&J saga Total Time: 1 hour. Romantic? Mm..eh…uh…ok…I could see the romance, if I pretend. Daring? Yes. Daring can be good. K and I try not to laugh. I go home.

First Weekend. RB is gone. We text a little on Friday. Saturday. He calls. We’re talking. I miss you. Thank you? Uh…RB&J saga Total Time: 2.3 days. I hang up.

First Date. He honks. I live on the 3^rd floor. It's quite a walk. But I look really good. Even if I didn’t I’m worth the 3 flights of stairs. RB says we’re going to drive. Drive and talk. We drive past a McDonalds. He’s hungry. We stop. He doesn’t open the McDonalds door for me. He doesn’t offer to pay. He doesn’t ask if I want anything. I don’t. I don’t eat McDonalds. Minus the ice cream. I always eat ice cream. But it’s polite. I watch him eat. He takes me home. He doesn’t walk me to my door. He does kiss me. RB&J saga Total Time: 4 days.

Birthday. I’m 19. K and RB come over to help us celebrate. RB tries to make stir-fry. It doesn’t work. Not even a little. It’s cute, sweet, thoughtful. I decide he’s not such a bad guy. RB&J saga Total Time: 5 days.

INTERMISSION: RB&J saga continues. We chill, hang out, go out, nothing important happens. Just more honking. RB&J Saga Total Time: 8 days.

Breakup: Guitars Unplugged. I want a guy who comes to the door. RB doesn’t even honk this time. I meet him at the stadium. The show is good. We walk home. We need to talk. He agrees. Stadium stairs are a work out. The metal is cold. It bites through my blue jeans. RB goes first. I think we need to break up. I nod. Yup. He’s flustered. He didn’t think I was going to agree. He starts naming off reasons like I’m arguing. 1. He doesn’t like my friends. A is hilarious so I don’t care. 2. We’re too physical. To all of you wondering: No I did not force him to kiss me. 3. He doesn’t see this ending in marriage. I can’t argue with that. My turn. I agree. He starts naming reasons again. I agree again. He stumbles. Informs me he’s still never been broken up with by anyone. He always breaks up with them. He’s proud his streak hasn’t been broken. I congratulate him. Secretly I wish I’d gone first. We go our separate ways. RB&J saga Total Time: 9 days.

Final reason. Last name. I couldn’t do that to my children. Feel free to guess. You won’t get it. Unless you’ve met him.

Epilogue. RB is married. Happily. I hope. To a girl who lived on the 1^st floor. He didn’t have to honk. She didn’t think he was rude. True love.

Virtual Love

What is the oddest way you could possibly meet someone?? Besides meeting them in Rexburg, falling in love, in two weeks, getting married, within the month, and living happily ever after. Dating websites. Still I have a strict “don’t knock till you try it” policy and since it’s 2 am I thought now might be a good time to see what all the fuss is about.

2:05-Stared at the computer for an eternity trying to think of the name of a single dating website. Finally resorted to my good friend Google. EHarmony. I’ve heard of that one.

2:15-Began dating application.

2:16-Gave up on dating application.

I don’t have much patience for forms. Especially when they’re on the computer. I get bored. Look at how many pages are left and usually end up on Facebook. Since I lost interest halfway down page one I’m not sure but I’m assuming the next ten pages could only be compatibility questions. Apparently things besides the fact that I’m funny, have an awesome family, and what some might call “not exactly tall” matter to my “soon to be happy we chose EHarmony compadre”.

2:23-Realization. Have I been going about 1^st dates completely wrong?? Should I be bringing copies of thousands of already answered compatibility questions so that we can determine if we are indeed a perfect match? Or if we calculate that we have not a hint of compatibility cut all pretences of civilized conversation, drop the fake laugh and end the evening within the comfort of our own apts watching reruns of Tosh.0?

2:24-Realization 2. I don’t have time nor patience for thousands of nonsense, pointless questions. So I abridge.

“20 Things I Would Tell a First Date so He Can Determine if We are Indeed Compatible Like He Hopes”:

1. I’m short. Yes, I’ve heard that joke before. No, you may not pick me up. Unless of course I like you. Or there is a train rattling at full speed towards me. Then by all means feel free to launch me to safety. Just aim for a bush. Or a nice grassy area.

2. I lose things constantly. It’s me. I recently lost my car. For 2 ½ hours.

3. I love summertime and anything associated with it. Heat, sunshine, swimming, bbq’s all of these make me a happy person.

4. I hate the cold. More than I hate anything.

5. It bothers me when towels touch. If they are folded nicely. Fine. No big deal. But if they are just tossed over the towel rack and touching…yuck! I won’t use them.

6. I love hockey!!!

7. I don’t like mashed potatoes. I love all other kinds of potatoes but all yogurt like…bleh! They make me gag. So does pudding.

8. I want to travel. I want to see everything. I want to meet everyone. Yes, I know this is unrealistic. I’ll settle for just traveling everywhere. I’m thinking I’m gonna need a private jet.

9. I translate conversations into German in my head when I’m at work and particularly bored. I also dream in German.

10. Apparently I am not a nice person when I’m asleep. Also I’m a deep sleeper. If you think I’m awake it’s best to assume that I’m not. Anything mean I said should be forgotten. Any bruises received should be iced. Apparently I also talk in German and giggle, lots. I’ve even woken myself up because I was laughing so hard. Something that I have been told is quite unsettling and very creepy.

11. I am terrified of insane asylums. This is not my only irrational fear. I also am scared of the post office. And reaching my hand into a box/bag that I can’t see into.

12. I write songs and poetry. It’s the writing no one will ever see.

13. I want to be an actress. I’d move to Hollywood in a heartbeat.

14. I have more jackets than shoes.

15. I skipped 1^st grade. On the first day in my new class we had a spelling bee. I won. I was embarrassed. Already the “smart girl” I’d just beat a bunch of older kids. I went to sit in my chair, knocked over my desk and flipped over it. I had a bloody nose and from that day on I was shy.

16. I love facial hair. And confidence.

17. I take spontaneous trips to nowhere places. Sometimes I just feel like I need to go, leave, get out of the same nothing and be. My last spontaneous need for somewhere besides here hit me at 4 am.

18. I cry at movies, at books, at paintings. Things that evoke passion. Selfless acts of kindness. Things that remind me that humanity has a soul.

19. If I get a book. I will read it. All. In one sitting. It annoys even me. But at the time the story contains me.

20When I'm rich I will spend my money on cheese. And shoes.