Hooray! Hooray! and Hooray!

Our “graduation” ceremony was a spectacular success. The audience was respectful. Our principal advised them that this was “not a sporting event or popularity contest” and shouting or whooping would not be appropriate. Most of the kids dressed up and they usually don’t act so goony if they are dressed nicely. It does set a tone.


There were only a couple of parents who brought flowers, gifts or balloons. My students commented to me, as we waited to file in, “They weren’t supposed bring those, were they?” I didn’t have to answer as one student said, “Those aren’t our parents.”


It was a lovely ceremony, and yes, under these circumstances I would do it again. As Joy pointed out it should have been common sense, but it wasn't, and for those people who lack that lovely gene, at least they listened (or listened to their children) and that is all around amazing.


P.S. Instead of being well over 100 degrees as it usually is at this time of the year, it is currently 59 degrees and raining. This is a first after 38 years in Arizona.

Can we avert another disastrous graduation?

Last year our sixth grade "graduation" was marred by behavior that was beyond egregiously rude BY THE ADULTS IN THE AUDIENCE!!! (I blogged about this in May of 07.) This year we decided to hold the ceremony in the morning (less time to drink and fewer rowdy siblings.) I will let you know the outcome.

Also, the girls, who had begged to dress up, came in outfits that made them look like junior hookers. What can I say?

Below is a copy of the letter we sent to parents and guardians this year. I wonder if we'll seee a difference. (I am hoping this is the last year we will have 6th grade "graduations" as it has gotten so out of hand.)



Dear Parents/Guardians,

The school year 2007- 2008 is coming to a close. The last day of school, May 22, 2008 your sixth grader will be participating in a culmination ceremony at 9:00 a.m. in the multi-purpose room. If you choose to do so you may check your child out for the day at the conclusion of the ceremony, or he/she may stay to the end of the regular school day.

There are a few guidelines concerning the ceremony. Children are encouraged to dress up for the ceremony but this should not include having to buy anything new. Clothes that would normally be worn to church would be ideal; long pants and nice shirts for the boys (no t-shirts or shorts) and dresses for the girls; no spaghetti straps, backless or strapless dresses for the girls.

We would also request that this ceremony be respected. It is not a sporting event nor a popularity contest; shouting, hooting or chanting are embarrassing for your child and simply not appropriate. Preferably, gifts, flowers and balloons should be given to students at home and would be distracting to the event. We hope the adults in attendance will be good role models.

If you have any questions, please contact your child’s teacher.

Sincerely,

ICHING -ARGHHHHHH!

This past week I got very sick with a cough (thank you students!). My doctor doesn't do "walk-ins" so I had to go to Urgent Care. Unbeknownst to me the old Urgent Care was closed up. I called my dear hubby in a despair who found a new one that was close by.


The young physician’s assistant wrote me prescriptions for a nuclear strength cough medicine and antibiotics. A few hours later I had broken out in a terrible rash. By morning my face was swollen and my lips looked like Goldie Hawn’s grossly enhanced lips in “The First Wives Club.” My hands, feet, waist and the area above my arms on my back look like leprosy. Even my ears are red and itchy! Dear Gary helped me call various places and I got a new prescription. He even volunteered to go pick it up for me. In the meantime the rash has spread and gotten much, much worse, although the coughing isn’t as bad. Is that improvement?


Usually when I have had a long run of really good health I can’t help myself and brag about it which, as everybody knows, is the surest way to tempt fate, but this time I didn’t. I am as miserable with the icthing as I was with the coughing. Surely there is a lesson to be learned here but I’ll be damned if I can figure it what it is.

Secrets of Standardized Testing

Tomorrow we start our AIMS, which is Arizona's Standardized testing. *sigh*


Secret#1 - Read the questions first. Even better - read the questions and answers first. Then you don't panic about the questions because you will know the questions and the answer choices.


Secret #2 - It's multiple choice:THEY GIVE YOU THE ANSWER!!!!! You have a 25% even if you just guess. (Forget the old thing about the "C" answer as a guess, that was back before they had computers mix up the answer choices.) Actually, if the questions and answers are read carefully the answers become obvious.


Secret #3 - This may sound hokey but it absolutely does work; imagine that you GET TO TAKE THIS TEST! Seriously, this does work. Your subconscious mind does what you tell it, and if you think something will be awful - bingo! it will be awful. If you think you get to do something it puts it in a whole new, and postitve light.


Secret #4 - After having taught for 30 years I can tell you that people who do well on tests use the above secrets. They know not to get stressed because that is self-sabotage. I promise, if you don't do well on a test no one will take you out back and shoot you.


Secret #5 - No matter how well I prepare my students, the scores are always a shock; some do far better than I hoped and some seemed to have not brought their brains along. Testing is a bigger crap-shoot than anything Vegas ever came up with. Nothing can be done about the teachers and students who cheat either, except that it always catches up with them eventually, and yes, there is a lot of cheating. (Statistically it is nearly impossible for an entire class to make unbelieveable gains in one year, but a blind eye is turned to that. Oh, well.)

NEW GRANDSON. Hooray! Welcome David!

I am off to meet my new grandson. The adoption went through much faster than anticipated so I have been a woman possessed getting ready. I am packed and lesson plans are on my desk for the Monday the 24th. (This week is spring break.)

Check out my daughter's blog (Beso Mami -link below) for pictures of this beautiful young man.

Big brother Tom and big sister Lily are adjusting well.(Do they realize that Baby David is staying?)

I SEE ....... TRENDS

I SEE:

- A DECLINE IN CONSPICUOUS CONSUMPTION.

- THE HOUSING FORECLOSURE RATE WILL GET MUCH WORSE.

- THERE WILL A GLUT OF UNSOLD NEW CARS AND TRUCKS.

- PARIS HILTON WILL FADE FROM VIEW.

-ALTHOUGH THIS MIGHT SOUND STRANGE SOMETHING GOOD, AND TOTALLY UNFORSEEN WILL COME OUT OF THE BAD; PERHAPS A NEW , SAFE ENERGY SOURCE, FOR EXAMPLE. (I know that could cover a lot of things.)

Happy Birthday, Tom!

Today is my grandson's 5th birthday.

Here he is with his beautiful mother.

Happy Birthday, precious Tom.

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

We had a leak behind the dormer on our steeply pitched roof. I climbed up there with Gary to slap on the tar and flashing to repair the leak. Got my hands and clothes covered in tar but we think we did a good job.

I am especially proud of myself because I AM DEATHLY AFRAID OF HEIGHTS.

Vent.Vent.Vent.Vent.Vent,

I started to write a whiny vent, had to leave to get groceries as the cupboard was bare, came back and thought better of it.

Suffice to say that sometimes venting is exactly the right thing to do, that one needs to have friends and blogger friends who will sympathize, but this was not the time.

It is wonderful though, to know that there are people I will never meet, who will say comforting things, and that is quite wonderful and amazing.

Thanks anyway.

Superbowl Ripoffs

Superbowl tickets: $2,800 -$5,000

Parking: $65 - $300

Super 8 - $500 a night

Rent your home - set your own price.

Ah, the trouble with NCLB

In case you have been under a rock NCLB stands for "No Child Left Behind". I don't believe anyone knew that it would become a front for the testing companies to rake in billions of dollars on the backs of children. In years to come all the horrors that have come about as the result of this egregiously misnamed program will fill volumes.


Having just finished conferences this last week I reflect on NCLB. All but one of my sixth graders grade's improved. All have shown maturity. These kids are funny, kind, smart and, yes, very sweet. I call them my "little cupcakes and sweatshirts." They know I love them.


One little girl, truly a tiny thing, about the size of an eight year-old, has an amazing talent in drawing, but academically she has done something I didn't think possible; she has failed all but one subject. Her mother says that this has been ongoing and now she plans on sending her to a commercial tutoring center. The assessment costs $4,000. The child has no learning disabilities. She really doesn't care. The mother asked, "How do you make a child care?" My caring and encourgaement have been fruitless and I don't regard punishment as a viable method of motivation as so many parents and teachers do. The mother and I aren't really on the same page on that. *sigh*


I still feel badly for this child, but in my ongoing "Let It Go" mode I have learned that I am not a magician. I am a teacher. I am human. If I could make all kids love to learn then I could move on to cure all addicts. Yet, NCLB expects all teachers to be magicians.

WHAT IF....

...you were allowed only one New Year's Resolution for the year 2008. What would it be?

What do you do about jerks?

Rant #1:
I ran to the “U-Mail-It” (not its real name) store to mail back an unwanted (Danish modern???) candlestick and something else that I accidentally ordered. (Hint: be careful what you leave in your cart: Amazon will mail it to you and, doggone it, charge you for it, too!) There were two men of a certain age ahead of me in line, who appeared to be life partners; not in a flamboyant way, but in a sweet and comfortable way. After they left the clerk, who was a kid in his early 20's, I'd guess, made a nasty comment about them to his manager, then shuddered to show his revulsion. I was enraged, everything was rung up so I couldn't leave, but I did not know what to do other than be very cold towards him. (I know, then I looked like a jerk.)

What could I have done? I would like to complain to the “U-Mail-It” headquarters. I think that’s what I will do. Thanks. I feel better for venting.

Rant #2:

Went to the discount card store next to buy paper goods on sale. (See below about the red plates I lost and found. Don’t let me forget that the beautiful poinsettia plates are in the top shelf of my office closet!) The clerk made a comment about Christmas, and the man next to me in line, and a pathetic Mr. Know-It-All said, “Christmas is over.” Gee, really? Lately I have made an effort not to engage people of that ilk in conversation, and I should have done so this time but I was still brooding about the hate I saw at the “U-Mail-It” store so I said, “But the Christmas bills are coming.”

Mr. Know-It-All replied, “My daddy said to never buy anything you can’t pay for.”

Me, “Well, I’ll just let your daddy pay for all my stuff then.” Not the snappiest of come backs I know, but good grief, what a creep.

I am not a tattoo fan but I may need to have “Let It Go” tattooed on the back of my hand where it would be a constant reminder.

The Miracle of the Little Red Plates

Here it was Christmas Eve afternoon and I was baking hundreds of cookies for our neighbors. Each year every neighbor gives a little gift of either food or some little hand made decoration. My contribution is chocolate chip cookies. Don’t be impressed. Big box store makes the best break-apart-ready bake chocolate chip cookies, so all I had to do was put them in the oven. It still takes a good chunk of time to actually get them baked, wrap them up and then deliver them.

I thought I might as well start getting them wrapped up when I realized I had taken the red plastic plates to school for our class Christmas (– oops! Holiday) party. I wasn’t willing to put the cookies on generic white paper plates. It looked like I was going to have to make a last minute run to the store. Crapolia!

The truth was nobody, I mean NOBODY, would care if the darn cookies were on white paper plates except me. I just couldn’t do it. Here I was with hundreds of cookies so I knew I would have to try to get holiday plates at the 11th hour. Crapolia!

I had nothing to lose so I made one last look in the pantry and, low and behold, there was a stack of the red plates. I have no memory of them, but there they were, and I was so grateful for this little miracle. I was absolutely tickled. How terrifically nifty to find those plates!

So, this next year I will make an effort to share those sweet little miracles with you, blogger-friends, because all those little miracles are, I believe, probably more important than one big whopping miracle.

Merry Christmas to All!

No Sexism intended, but NO MEN ALLOWED!

Thank you to the genius across the pond who came up with this. Utter brilliance and scathing truth!

http://glumbert.com/media/mancold

Look what was found on the playground.

One of my students found a bullet on the playground. It was not a used shell. I have never even touched a bullet before. I carried it to the office afraid that it would explode. I handed it gingerly to my principal. She looked at it, sighed, and said, "I'll add it the others."

Blonde joke .... since I am one I can tell this.

Tale of the Blonde Horseback Rider


A young blonde woman decides to try horseback riding, even though she has had no lesson or prior experience. She bravely mounts the horse, unassisted, and the horse immediately springs into action. As it gallops along at a steady and rhythmic pace, the blonde begins to slip from the saddle.

In terror, she grabs for the horse's mane, but cannot get a firm grip. She tries to throw her arms around the horse's neck, but she slides down the side of the horse anyway. The horse gallops along, seeming imperious to its slipping rider.

Finally, losing her frail grip, the blond attempts to leap away from the horse and throw herself to safety. Unfortunately, her foot becomes entangled in the stirrup, and she is now at the mercy of the horse's pounding hooves as her head is struck against the ground over and over and over. As her head is battered against the ground and she is mere moments away from unconsciousness, to her great fortune, Frank, the Wal-Mart greeter, sees her and unplugs the horse.

I'm almost done!!

I am so pleased with myself because I have most of my Christmas shopping done. Hooray! Hooray! The secret? Shop online when there is free shipping.

I know many people like going to the mall; the decorations, music, hustle and bustle gets them in the spirit, but that just makes me feel claustrophobic and anxious.

I have already made a couple of trips to the post office, bringing a book with me to pass the time, and keeping me from beating people to a bloody pulp who, first, don't have their stuff wrapped for mailing or, second, decide it's time to visit with the post office employees. Also, having a book with me keeps people from turning to me in line to complain about the terrible service. It's the post office folks, and it is what it is.

My daughter is right; it's fun to get things done ahead of time.

Worst Christmas Gift

Do you remember the worst Christmas gift you ever got? What was it? Who gave it to you? How did you react? Did you keep it? Did you use it? Did the giver know that it was not appreciated? (Think the pink bunny suit from the movie, "The Christmas Story.")

In praise of paper towels

I just love paper towels. Always have, always will.

I know my love affair with paper towels started when I was fairly young; probably around seven. Back in the 1950’s paper towels came in one color: white. They were rough and scratchy. I don’t know why my mother ever bought them because we weren’t allowed to use them.

Paper towels were kind of like the good china; they were to be saved for special occasions. What that mystery occasion was I don’t know, but the paper towels were mounted by the kitchen sink on the ugly steel paper towel holder. Maybe it was a special good luck kitchen talisman.

Come to think of it, I believe we only had one roll of paper towels that moved with us from house to house like the good couch. I think that same roll was with my family by the time I got married. I wonder whatever happened to it.

Now I buy colorful paper towels by the dozens from Sam’s Club and I use them freely. I used a ton of them on Thanksgiving after all the warnings about not contaminating anything. I should use that many paper towels anytime I cook (which is infrequently) but I don’t think about food contamination except on big holidays.

Gary likes to use the hand towels. I used to think that hand towels were used after you washed your hands but he uses them to mop up around the sink which I think is gross, however it gives me an excuse to rip off the choose-a-size paper towel and wipe my hands.

So here is to the inventor of the paper towel, and no I don’t feel I am wasting the environment because I recycle all my paper. If they can chuck newspapers full of stupid paper-wasting circulars I can use my paper towels.

I love my paper towels.