Deleting Twitter & Teaching on Zoom

I deleted Twitter. That place has become a cesspool. It got to the point where I asked myself if selling a few books was worth wading through the daily shrieking and finger-pointing on that site, and ultimately I decided I'd rather never sell a book again than see one more boycott hashtag or self-victimizing-drone who thinks their mindless bleating is original thought.

Sorry.

(^Also sorry that I'm not really sorry.)

Only problem is Twitter was kind of my only venue for selling books. I'm still on Facebook, but really that's for family and friends--people who already know I have a book out without being told via a post. Twitter was how I reached the outside world. Not sure how to circumvent that, but I have faith that it'll somehow work out. I'm just so relieved at this point to have the stink of Twitter out of my life, and book sales or not, I'll never stop writing.

Which, by the way, I'm now at 76% for Spring of Crows! My goal is to get to the 80% mark before we're back to work in person.

Speaking of, work is...weird. We started back to school on August 6th, but my county is on the COVID watch list, so students aren't allowed to be on campus right now. Us teachers are teaching our classes via Zoom. It sounds easier than teaching in person, but it's not. During the school day it's the same workload as regular teaching since we're doing live classes, but the behind-the-scenes planning is more intense because I have to make sure my lessons are easily understood and accessible to students working from home. Things I'd normally cover in class in five minutes can take a dozen emails back and forth. Not to mention all the technology meltdowns my district keeps experiencing. Despite all this, I'm kind of enjoying my job. It's mentally taxing trying to keep up with all the emails, engagement logs that the state is requiring, and so on, but physically I feel like I have more energy by the end of my workday. Plus my students are very sweet and very committed to coming to classes. We have a great rapport so far, even if we're all two-dimensional. It's also fun getting to meet their baby sisters and dogs, or having students respond to questions in-between bites of Top Ramen. Zoom classes expose you to layer of your students' lives that you'd never experience in a regular class setting.

That's it for now. Remind me to tell you about our weird Laughlin trip during my next post. :)

P.S. Still keeping comments off for awhile. Maybe permanently? It sucks because I do love hearing feedback on things I'm prattling on about, but at the same time I think I'd like to turn this blog back into the original 'journal' that it used to be ten years ago.

Ready, Aim, Fire

This weekend I became a certified archery instructor!

 My first time firing the Genesis bow

Mr. Bales and me with our certification cards

The class was in Wheatland, CA, which is about a seven and-a-half hour drive from where I live (eight hours plus if you figure in stops for gas and food). Clint and I, along with a teaching colleague of mine, Mr. Bales, left right after work on Friday, arrived to our motel around midnight, and started the training the next morning. 

The class was awesome. I came into the class being a tiny bit familiar with archery, but my experience was limited to the compound bow with a peep sight and scope, set at about 42 lbs. The bows we're required to use for NASP (National Archery in the Schools Program) are Genesis bows, which are also compound, but have no peep sight, no scope, and are only set to 11 to 20 lbs. So in addition to having to learn how to set up and run an archery range (including all of the safety rules/regulations), I had to learn the techniques for shooting a bow that I'm completely unfamiliar with. Did you know there are ELEVEN steps to shooting a bow? Here was the nemonic device I made up so I could remember all of the steps for the test: 

Sassy naked damsels boast proudly during an afternoon salsa routine Friday.™

Seriously, I need to trademark that baby. ;) It stands for: Stance, nock arrow, draw handset, bow handset, pre-draw, draw, anchor, aim, release, follow-through. Someone was paid the big bucks to make all that up. If I was in charge over at NASP, I'd have three steps: 

Ready. Aim. Fire.

Anyway, we were also required to learn all of the different parts of a bow, and how to do common bow repairs. It was total information overload...by the end of the training my brain felt numb. But I also came out of it on a high, because I feel like I learned SO much (I ended up scoring a 96% on my practicals, and man did it take everything out of me). At this point, I honestly think I could set up an entire archery range and run an event with confidence.

While all of this was going on, my son was participating in the Monopoly Championship Tournament eight hours away, which resulted in me doing a lot of hyperventilating, squealing, and screaming while trying to shoot targets and memorize that the top cam of the bow is called the "idler wheel." I'm dying to write more about this whole Monopoly thing on this post, but it's way too cool and special, so I think I'll save it for the next one.

Cross your fingers for me now that our grant through NASP goes through, because I really, really want to get this archery program going for the new school year!

5 Things I Shouldn't Have to Learn but Did Anyway

I found this post (or what looked like the start of a post) in my drafts, and since I'm desperate to squeeze in an entry before the next WIP Report (I swear my blog is hanging on that one last flimsy thread for its very survival), I'm going to copy/paste it below:

Five Things I Learned in Teaching this Week

1. If you period-sub for a moderate-to-severe special ed. class, be prepared to have your hair petted for 47 minutes by kids who regard you like you're an exotic unicorn.
2. If a student says "I think I'm going to die" after running the monster mile in P.E., responding with "We have a lot to cover today...can you hold off dying until you get to Mr. C's class?" is probably not the most compassionate response.
3. ALWAYS expect your iPad to be on the wrong Pandora playlist. If you think you're getting ready to play soft, tranquil mood music during Silent Sustained Reading, fully expect Wiggle by Snoop Dog to blast instead.
4. Telling your writing enrichment class about your idea for a character who is a sadistic empath might leave them frozen, wide-eyed, and a little terrified of you.
5. If a student asks "Mrs. P., what is the definition of the word arousal?" do not attempt to answer. You will fail miserably. Let Webster handle that discussion.

~ ~ ~

I'm sure this post was going somewhere, but since it was from about six months ago, that's all I've got.

Pet Names

I want to do a blog post. Really, I do. But I am so, so busy.

I was talking to an author during lunch today who subs at our school from time to time. At one point, we had the following conversation: 

Her: "So let me get this straight. You're a full time teacher here?"

Me: "Yes."

Her: "And you have two kids?"

Me: "Yes."

Her: (Long pause) "When the heck do you have time to write?"

Me: Well I'm not really a 'good' mom, per say...

At this point my fellow coworker Brad shouts across the lunch room, "Oh, come on! Every time I see your kids out on the street holding up their 'Will work for food' signs, I'm impressed by their work ethic."

Thanks for that, Brad. 

In other kid-related news, I realized that I call everyone in my household "baby." Trin will hand me my thermos of iced-coffee and I'll say "Thanks baby." Clint will come home from work and I'm all "Hey baby." And so on. The problem is when you call everyone baby, they all respond. No one is sure which "baby" is your target audience. So I told the kids tonight, "I need new pet names for you guys. What do you want me to call you?"

"Sexy Taco," Trinity blurts out. Without even batting an eye.

And this is why you don't let your kids choose their own nicknames.

The publishing mayhem is just about over, and I almost have what sort of resembles a life again! YES. I'm sighing with relief so hard that I'm getting lightheaded.

Back to the Grind

I've officially been at work for two weeks now (and have neglected my blog for at least that long). My first day with students went well! Here's a quick summary of that first day:

• The air conditioner in my classroom didn't work for half the day, then worked beautifully, then stopped working that afternoon (just in time for triple-digit temperatures).
• My internet wouldn't work. Since we take attendance through an online system, you can see how this might be a problem. 
• Our bells were't working. 
• Our loud speaker wasn't working. Very convenient since our school uses the intercom system to instruct 7th graders where to go on their first day of school. Students are also led in the Pledge of Allegiance via the loudspeaker, so we were officially the most unpatriotic campus in America that week (though on day three it occurred to me that I could lead my own homeroom class in the Pledge).  
• Our copy machines were not working. 

So that about covers it. I was surprised to discover that I loved not having bells! It was nice to not be at the mercy of some monotonous beep to decide when classes were over (though I did accidentally dismiss one class ten minutes early. Oops).

In addition to the first day of school hoopla, Clint and I have been in and out of the ER because Elijah was exhibiting symptoms resembling appendicitis and kept getting sent home by his school. It took three days before the ultrasounds revealed the culprit (what looks like an inflamed lymph node near the appendix). We seem to be out of the woods with all that now, but what an ordeal.

I have a new room this year, and I could not be happier with it. You see that door right there in the corner? (Ignore blanked-out poster--I had to censor that for privacy reasons).

That's an interior door leading to a small storage room--a space I share with two of my friends/coworkers, Naomi and Jen. Basically it's like a "secret passageway" into each other's rooms. Maybe it's typical for classrooms in the Midwest, East Coast, etc., to connect in a similar fashion, but it's rare at our school. 90-some percent of our classrooms are islands unto themselves, with only one door leading outside. Jen, Naomi, and I all teach 7th grade Language Arts, so this set-up is perfect for us to be able to pop in and out of each other's rooms throughout the day for quick collaboration (or just to say 'hi'). But for me, I love having colleagues right there that I get to see every day. It seems like such a small thing, but teaching can be a very isolating profession, and now I'm really enjoying that daily human-contact (okay, 7th graders are human too, sort of, but you get my point).

As far as writing goes, I haven't got anything done. I told myself I would allow myself a two week break from revisions so I could get reacclimatized with work. Now that two weeks is up, so I guess I better get crackin'.

Vegas Conference

I am finally home! *Huge happy sigh* The conference was a ton of fun, and a complete whirlwind. I carpooled with two of my teacher friends, Jen and Lainie, and we arrived in Vegas at about 2:00 on Monday. After getting checked in to the Treasure Island (pictured above), we enjoyed a couple of drinks and headed for the pool. Later a bunch of us met at Gilley's for dinner. My district gives teachers $80 a day for meals, so we're always sitting fat and happy during conferences. After dinner, some of my coworkers tried to talk me into going out, but I hadn't unpacked my luggage yet, and I was massively craving a bath and some alone time, so I opted out.

On Tuesday, I woke up early and four of us girls walked down to Starbucks for some wake-up juice. Then we walked over to the Venetian for our conference. Everyday we had four 75 minute sessions--two before lunch, and two after, with a half hour between each session. My Tuesday sessions were "okay." Three of my presenters were great, but they didn't teach me anything that I wasn't already doing in my classroom. The fourth presenter was nice enough, but the session was supposed to be on "project--based learning," and she never once talked about projects. Instead she discussed coming up with "key questions" for your lessons (a dead horse of a subject lately). It was frustrating, because I was excited for some more project ideas.

Once our sessions were over, I got together with my coworkers for drinks, and then got ready for dinner. This time we ate at the buffet at Planet Hollywood. I don't care for buffets, but the food was so good. I was so stuffed by the time I finished that I swear I looked like I was five months pregnant. Okay, thats a pretty big exaggeration, but I was seriously full. After the buffet, I had 15 minutes to get ready for a club I had agreed to go to with my friend/coworker Danielle--"Hyde" in Bellagio. I haven't clubbed in...well...probably ever, so I didn't even think to bring appropriate "club wear." I had packed a couple of my work dresses, and one of them was more curve-hugging and night-out-on-town looking (I thought), but apparently it wasn't slutty enough, because Danielle took one look at me when she walked into my room and was like, "Here." She handed me a short, slinky black dress. Danielle is shorter and heavier than me (I don't mean this as an insult--she is super cute), but she said the dress was "one size fits all," and as I held it up, I thought "Damn, this thing is actually going to fit." So I put it on and it fit like a glove. But I couldn't help but laugh because every single time Shannon and I go to Vegas, we make fun of all the girls wearing spike heels and little black dresses. It is SO CLICHE. Like, seriously girls, there are other lengths and other colors. If I ever go clubbing again, I'm going to wear a white lace dress or mint green or something just to break the mold.

Anyway, Danielle and I, along with our coworker Alfred, took a taxi to the Bellagio. Once we arrived to the club, it was...just...holy cow. The location was so beautiful, because it had an entire wall of glass that overlooked the Bellagio fountain/light show. It was STUNNING, seeing the show from that angle, over and over again. But that's where the fascination ended. The club was SO crowded. I love to dance, but it's nearly impossible when you're squished on all sides like you're the unfortunate innards of a sandwich.

Also, I don't know club etiquette. I was getting approached by guys and I would let them know I was married in the friendliest way possible (usually by smiling apologetically and pointing at my ring, since you couldn't hear a damn thing in that place). I was never mean and all "get lost" or anything, because, hey, it takes guts to approach a woman, and I'm not going to squash someone for trying. But one guy (from the $1500 section) wouldn't get the message, and started putting his hands around my waist and kissing me on the cheek even though I had told him several times I wasn't interested. Danielle got pissed when he cornered me by the restrooms and WOULD NOT LEAVE. She told him very point-blank that he needed to leave me alone and started to lightly push him away from me, and he pushed back--not in an intention to push her, I don't think...more holding his hands up in the air to keep her away, but the bouncer wasn't having any of it, and he kicked the dude out. Later, when we left the club and were walking out of Bellagio, the guy appeared out of nowhere and started asking me where I was going, etc. When Danielle caught up, he started yelling at her for getting him kicked out of the club. Danielle called him an ass and we jumped in our cab. She told me in the cab that I am not bitchy enough for clubs, and I laughed, because it is so true.

But it's all good because I am pretty sure I am done with clubs. Not just because of the thing from above, but because I hate watching women act like they have no self-respect. Dresses tinier than lingerie, spiked heels, bending over so their ass-cheeks can gyrate against some stranger's groin...ugh. I am officially too old for this. I am glad I went with Danielle this one time though so I could get it out of my system, plus there were parts of the experience that were a lot of fun.

While I was at the club, Clint was making the drive to Vegas from his work. I got back to my room about 1:45ish, and he had just arrived about a half hour before. He stayed for the rest of the week, which was SO much fun. Clint meshes well with my coworkers, and I always feel more...well, I just feel like I can breathe easier when he's there.

Wednesday was sort of rinse and repeat, minus the clubbing. I woke up early, went to Starbucks with the girls, and then it was off to my sessions, lunch at the Outback, and more sessions. My sessions, again, were "okay" that day, or maybe I was too tired to fully appreciate them. All of us went to dinner that night at an Italian restaurant that served food family style. It was awesome. I think I went to bed at a decent hour that night, but it's hard to remember.

Thursday was the same as Wednesday, except for my sessions were wonderful. I was so thrilled by one of them on "warm-ups and sponge activities" that I was taking notes like a crazy person. The presenter was energetic, hilarious, and everything he suggested was ingenious. After my first two sessions ended, a group of us (along with the principal) enjoyed a drink around the pool. Later we went to dinner at a Mexican restaurant called Canunita (or something like that). Once back in my room, I had an hour to relax before it was time for Chippendales. Yes, you heard that right--Chippendales! I have never in my life gone to a show where the MEN take off their clothes, and honestly, I've never had any interest. I've gone to Vegas showgirl performances, and I really enjoy those. The dancers are gorgeous with smooth skin and beautiful bodies and glittering costumes...why would I want to see a bunch of bumpy, greasy men?

But Clint kept telling me "Just go babe! You'll have fun," so I did, and he was right. The show was sheer entertainment from start to finish. The music and choreography was awesome, and the men weren't made to look like "pretty boys" like I was worried about. The producers did a great job of playing on women's fantasies by choosing settings and costumes that emphasized the mens' ruggedness, and by recognizing that teasing us with what we can't see can be so much more provocative and fun than baring everything.

We weren't allowed to take pictures until the end of the show, and even then I didn't take any (I'm a lousy photo taker), but I had a few sent to me by Irma. The show featured Ian Ziering, who used to play Steve Sanders way-back-when on Beverly Hills, 90210. And remember Jaymes and James from The Amazing Race?

I remember how adorable and enthusiastic those boys were on the race...they were definitely amongst my top five favorite contestants.

The only thing I managed to take pictures of during the show was the bathroom (I know, here I have almost-naked men parading around, and I'm fascinated by the bathroom). I swear it was the size of an apartment, with different nooks and sections with vanities and various seating areas.

Here we are, after the show, groping giant poster men:

(From left to right: Katie, Amanda, Nikki, Me, and Irma)

I got back to my room sometime after 1:00 a.m., I think. The next morning (yesterday) was my last day of the conference, and finally time to drive home. Clint packed us up and we headed out, stopping for a late lunch in State Line. I was so excited to get home. I missed the kids and the animals (although sadly Trin is still in Utah at horsemanship camp until tomorrow). Plus nothing beats sleeping in your own bed.

Now I'm trying to motivate myself to clean this house and do some laundry. Tomorrow I'm hoping to get a few hours to fill out Najla's requirement form for my book cover. By Monday I hope to be back to revisions again. I have to plan another pool party soon too, because my coworkers are bugging me for one.

Oh, Krystal over at Narcissistic Rose tagged me for a Versatile Blogger award, so I'll scratch down my seven random facts in a near-future post. Shouldn't be too hard...LOTS of randomness to choose from.

*takes nap now to avoid cleaning*

#WIPMarathon Report #3

I missed my monthly check-in on Saturday, but that was because I was at Universal Studios with 45 middle-schoolers (that's my excuse and I'm sticking to it). So here we go...welcome to my bleakest writing report ever! 

Last report word count + chapter count/scene count: 85,746 - 26 chapters completed

Current report WC + CC/ SC: 86,801 - Still, 26 chapters completed

WIP Issues This Month: April is THE WORST. 

Four things I learned this month in writing: 

1. Writing...
2. in...
3. April...
4. is impossible.

What distracted me this month while writing: Mother in-law's birthday, daughter's birthday, Kid's Fishing Clinic, Dad' birthday, Movie field-trip, Kiwanis One Night, Spring Carnival, Easter, Universal Studios field-trip, Snake Bytes, a bazillion different parent-teacher conferences, grading, and...well, just picture my head rolling down the street, and me trying to catch it so I can screw it back on.

Goal for next month: Starting chapter 27 is sounding pretty good to me right now. 

Last 200 words: Okay, this is the spoiler I avoided posting last month, so if you end up being one of my beta readers, pretend you've never read this. Sound good? (Ifeoma, you're fine--you've read this already).

    He hadn’t changed at all. And I had fallen for it. Fallen for him. 

My knees buckled beneath me, and I lurched toward the nearby police car. The gray was closing in. I wasn’t surprised. I had overdone it. Now that the adrenaline and euphoria were seeping out of my body, I was crumbling just like the light pole lying decrepitly over the van. I clung onto the side-mirror of the police car, letting my body fall against the driver’s door.

Two EMTs ran up. “Miss, are you okay?” They took me underneath my arms and started dragging me toward the ambulance. “She’s going into shock.”

But I could barely hear them. I twisted around, trying one last time to see Stryder. To make sense of anything.

“My name is Stryder Black,” I heard his voice say. “I would like to turn myself in…” my stomach lurched. What was he doing? Fog encroached the edges of my vision. I tried with every ounce of my being to cling onto consciousness. “…for the hit and run of Joseph Tanning.”

Hit and run? What? He couldn’t have…

I sank miserably into blackness, letting the fog engulf me.

Title...? Oh I Don't Know

Oh MY GOSH I am going to force myself to write a post RIGHT NOW because my lack of blogging this month is downright RIDICULOUS (don't you love using caps to make yourself sound like an over dramatic lunatic?).

Last week I had to work four sixteen hour shifts in a row due to extracurricular activities--hence my lazy blogging. Some of them were fun (like taking the Rattler Readers to the movies to see "Divergent"), and some of them were grueling (like spending three hours creating a picture-video-presentation-thing). I think the only thing that pulled me through this week was Trinity, who helped me put together my picture presentation, and Clint, who took two days off of work and bent over backwards to get me through the end of the week. On Thursday night, we had "Kiwanis One Night," which is where my club (Builders) gets together with Kiwanis to eat dinner, play games, and do some kind of service project. Usually we make blankets for homeless shelters, but this year we put together care packages. It was fun and well-organized, but I missed the blankets. Something about making cuddly stuff for kids--you can't beat that. Anyway, at the end of the evening, the president of Kiwanis called me up and gave me an award for my "service and dedication to Builders Club." She also gave me a $100 Visa Gift Card. I was so surprised and touched, but I felt (and still feel) a bit awkward too, because...well...I plan to quit running the club next year, and all of this is making it that much harder for me to tell them.

In other work-related news, our principal is leaving us (*sniffle*) and we have a new principal coming in for next year. Because I run our staff newsletter, I was able to sneak out of class to interview him on Friday. The interview was awesome--a lot of laughter and boisterous fun. But check this out:

The dude is HUGE. I'm average-heighted, and he towers over me. He used to be an MMA fighter, which sadly he doesn't want to share with students (I think it would be great for classroom management).

Oh, for the record, us teachers don't generally wear oversized paint-splattered overalls to school. It's just that every now and then us tenured teachers get lazy and become total slob dogs. Plus it was laundry day.

Okay, I'm totally kidding. Friday was our "Country Jamboree," and we were dressing the part (that explanation seems so boring now...I liked being a slob dog better).

We signed a contract for our pool! It's going to be a 16x30 ft. free-form (wavy-ish, lagoon-shaped) pool, with a six-man spa set above the pool and a simple waterfall feature. We're also adding a baja shelf (this slightly submerged island type area) for small kids to play. We're set to break ground on May 19th, and estimated date of completion is June 16. I am too excited for words. I'll take lots of pics.

This song came on a Pandora '90s' station that Clint downloaded the other day, and I can NOT get it out of my head. Shan says I shouldn't post songs because it might be construed as me reaching out to people. To her I say, yes, I see your point. I AM reaching out. I hope this song (despite it's really crappy graphics) speaks to all fifty-some of my secret lovers. Alejandro, this includes you.

That's about all I've got steam to write. Time to stuff my nose back into "Ruby Red"--my latest mindless YA read--which of course has to do with time travel because, as usual, I'm obsessed with time.

Medieval Days & Snakes at School

I need to write a post! It's been such a loooooong time (actually, I just looked at my last post to check, and it's been eleven days, which isn't too terrible, so I took off one of the o's in looooooong).

I don't have anything particular to write about, so I'll just talk about this past week. Let's see...on Friday, a production group called the Kingdom of Esperance visited our school and led seventh graders in a Medieval Festival, complete with tent encampments, archery demos, period-art, and a tournament of knights with real armor and swords. It was pretty awesome. Our city's newspaper was supposed to send a reporter to cover the event, but the reporter cancelled at the last minute, so I was asked to cover the event instead. It was so, so fun. I got to run around, interviewing the workers and taking pictures.

Even during the archery demos, no one batted an eye when I trespassed over the caution tape to get close-ups. At one point, one of the more "official" looking people asked me if I was trying to get action shots.  I honestly thought that he was going to tell me to step back. But instead, he escorted me closer and told the workers to wait until I was ready before shooting their next set. Sadly, those pictures ended up with a glare on them, so I was unable to send them to the press.

For the record, I'm awful at taking pictures. I have no finesse for it at all. Kind of ironic that I ended up being the "reporter" for this event.

Anyway, I sent my photos and story to the newspaper, and it came out on Tuesday morning.

The only thing that grated on my nerves was the paper used my entire story, but labeled the byline "Photos courtesy of Jodi Perkins." Um...photos?? What about the article? I mean, it's small, but still. Grrrrr. I almost called them to complain, but then decided it wouldn't accomplish anything.

On Saturday I was paid $400 to be a presenter for THIS. 

I have to say, I am ridiculously proud of my district for pulling off this little trailer. It's like your five year old running up to you with a drawing that actually looks half-decent. Anyway, I was asked to give a 45 minute presentation/workshop, and OH MY GOODNESS was it fun.

After the presentation, I went skating with Shan and all the kids. My parents showed up to drop off a late birthday present for my nephew, and we all decided to go out to dinner. Usually we only get together for special occasions, so that was pretty awesome.

A snake showed up in the girl's restroom on Wednesday. Tom, our maintenance guy, heard a girl scream in the bathroom, came running, and found the snake. He then brought the snake to me, because somehow I'm the unofficial animal care person on our campus. I let him know the snake was harmless and I would take him home with me and put him in our garden (great for keeping down the pest population when you're trying to grow stuff). But then my principal got wind of the snake and said there was no way I was allowed to keep him in my classroom (to her credit, she was very calm. I think I must give her a mini-heart-attack every week). Tom went to transport the snake to our outdoor lunch patio where I was going to pick him up at the end of the day. But when he arrived, the snake was GONE. We discovered a small gap beneath the handle of the carrier where the snake managed to escape. Of course this all happened AFTER my principal had told us "Don't you let that snake get loose on campus!" I really didn't feel particularly inspired to tell her that a snake was now roaming free somewhere between the cafeteria and room 405, so me and Tom kept it quiet that afternoon. The next day, Tom found our creepy little buddy in front of the snack bar. This time I didn't mess around. I picked him up (yes, with my bare hands. I ain't scared--or particularly bright) and put him in a giant glass vase and sealed a lid with air holes over the top. Our computer specialist asked if she could take the snake home because her daughter loves them, so I ended up handing him over to her, and the rest is history.

This has turned into a long post considering I had nothing of consequence to write about.

Scrivener and Other Stuff

I usually thrive on Saturdays, but this one's kind of a bummer because Elijah is sooooo very grounded. I found out on Thursday night he had a science fair project due the next day (yesterday), and he never told me. Now he's spending today doing a science fair project that he probably won't even get credit for. I still need to run out at some point today and buy him his board and supplies and all that.

Plus my coffee machine broke. To not have my coffee on a Saturday morning is immediately starting my weekend off with a...okay, I wrote myself into a corner there. Let's just go with "It sucks."

I have a student teacher for the rest of the school year (I do realize I'm subject-jumping). I love having even a mediocre student teacher because it's a refreshing change of pace to have another adult to share ideas and lessons with, not to mention that two adults in the classroom lighten up the workload. But in this case, I was fortunate enough to get a pretty great student teacher. He's very proactive. In the two weeks we've been working together he already has a great grip on my students and has just about adopted 3rd and 4th period as his own. Plus he makes us COFFEE every afternoon just in time to get past the 6th/7th period lull...

We found PJ a home! (subject-jumping again). Shannon has a perfect fenced in area where Charlotte (her pig) lives, and she has agreed to take him in. PJ's new future home is lush and green, with overhangs to provide protection during bad weather. There's also a spicket of water, so he'll never go thirsty. He'll have freedom to hop around freely, but in a protected space, which he seems to crave.

Have I told you about my deaf dog yet? I'll save that one for a future entry.

In manuscript news, I had to adjust my word count goal for DoT, because it occurred to me that 100K is the maximum suggested word count for a young adult novel. To leave my goal untouched means that in order to reach 100% on my word meter, I'm guaranteed to have to go over the maximum, forcing me to make cuts. Unless by some miracle I end up with exactly 100,000 words, and what are the chances of that? So I brought my goal down to 90,000, just to give some 10K wiggle room. But now I'm about to have an anxiety attack because there is no way I can wrap this story up in 11,000 words. I'm screwed. I'm just going to write the thing and make lots of cuts when I go to revise.

I found an amazing program for writers called Scrivener. Although 'found' is a misnomer because it was actually recommended to me by a twitter friend/fellow writer, @_RScottWhitley (he and I were both part of the #WorldsEnd project). This program is designed for people who are writing a book, unlike Word, which is geared toward people writing an essay or a report. The program took me two days and several tutorials to learn, but now that I have it figured out, I was hooked. My favorite thing about it (although it's hard to choose one because there are so many cool features) is it allows you to save/print your book in ANY format, including paperback novel format, eBook format for Kindle, etc. You could literally skip the middle man with this program and create your own eBook with little to no outside assistance.

I might write another entry today because I'm feeling all blabbery.

Pepper for Breakfast

I'm feeling pretty moody with blogger.  Last night I wrote a big, beautiful post, but for some reason there were inordinately large spaces in-between paragraphs and I couldn't get rid of them.  So I switched over to HTML.  I successfully deleted most of the spaces, but then accidentally deleted the closing tag for a certain section.  When I hit the "undo" arrow, my ENTIRE post disappeared, along with the "redo" option.  I thought, "No big deal, I'll just go to the previous page before my changes are saved."  But the second I went to back out of the page, it auto-saved my blank blog.  Ughhhh.

Okay, that was a long-winded way of saying I lost yesterday's post (by the way, it's only a "big, beautiful" post because there's no evidence to the contrary).  I'll never recreate it, so that's that.

So new stuff.  Yesterday I was at a training with the rest of my department, when we got the news that there had been an incident at school.  It happened in my friend Jen's class (Niecy's former classroom).  Jen was sitting at the same table with me at the training when she got the news.   A student brought in a pepper bomb, which is basically pepper spray in powder form, compressed into a ball.  He never intended to use it; he just brought it to show his friends.  He had procured it from his dad, who's a correctional officer.  But it accidentally came apart when he was rolling it around on his desk (the sub either didn't see it, or thought it was a red toy ball).  Three girls who were sitting directly next to this student immediately ran out of the room, unable to breathe.  The rest of the class followed soon after.  Eight students were treated by ambulance before being released, and a correspondent from Channel 2 News interviewed our school about the incident.  Poor Jen had to relocate to a different classroom today so that her room could be deep-cleaned and her filters replaced with new ones.  Several kids left their backpacks, and they weren't even allowed to retrieve them.  RMS Cafe was supposed to be held in Jen's room this morning, but it was relocated to Naomi's room (my other language arts colleague/friend).  In addition to the usual splay of donuts, fruit, and coffee, Naomi supplied a plate of...peppers.  

One thing that stands out in my mind was a few hours before the incident, Jen was expressing her nervousness over having a sub in her classroom for two days.  But then she comforted herself by saying, "I have really good kids this year, so I really have nothing to worry about."  That right there is why I'm a strong advocate of KNOCKING ON WOOD.

Clint's schedule is brutal this month.  He's driving a train from Needles, CA, to Winslow, AZ, so he's gone for six days at a time.  Poor guy; he comes home with enough time to mow the lawn and repair things that need to be repaired, and then he's gone again.  And there is always something that needs to be repaired.  I swear this house very calculatingly waits for him to leave, and then decides to dump problems on me.  Like the smoke detectors that went all manic a few weeks ago.  Or the ice-maker last week, which would do nothing but growl every time I pushed the button, but then the second I opened the freezer, ice would explode on me.  On the plus side, I was showered with the specific ice I had requested, whether it was cubed or crushed.  So ten points for accuracy there.  Now our latest problem is the voltage on our electric fence around the petting zoo...it's too high.  I'm not sure what changed...maybe the fact that the ground has been moister than usual lately?  But on top of zapping two sparrows, the fence fried one of our hens.  Now I have more unfortunate critters to add to the ever-growing Why You Don't Want to be a Bird in Our House list.  So Clint will have to tweak that on Monday, plus get rid of the dead chicken that no one wants to touch.  Thankfully by next week he should be back to shorter routes, where he is gone for only 2-3 days at a time.

Clint's parents are taking the kids to an insect fair tomorrow.  Trin is all sorts of excited because there are supposed to be a few entomologist there from UCR, and she plans to pick their brains about the world of entomology.  Right now she's torn about what she wants to be when she grows up; either an entomologist or an aviary veterinarian.  The aviary vet idea has me laughing my head off.  How great would it be for a child whose family has a history of unwittingly massacring winged creatures to become a veterinarian of BIRDS?

Teri invited me to go along to the insect fair with them, to which I gave her a very polite hell no.  With Clint gone all the time, I'm saturated with kids 24/7.  The thought of some peace and quiet (aka: uninterrupted writing time) sounds like pure bliss.  I'm hoping to go to Starbucks tomorrow and make my word-meter bar grow.

Oh, I wrote a vignette (exactly 500 words in length) on my other blog, but I'm not crazy about it.  It was in response to another end-of-the-world-type writing prompt that one of my twitter followers mentioned me in.  I love creating short stories...they make for fun little interludes between chapter revisions.  But for some reason I only like to write them when I get a prompt of some kind.  Same for painting--I like being given some direction, like "paint an angel or paint a willow tree"--I feel too aimless if I'm just supposed to "paint".  Anyway, I failed a little on this one.  500 words was too shrimpy of a word count for me to flesh the exposition out, or to get the reader to care about the character or her plight.  I guess this highlights my shortcomings as a writer.  Although Apathetics is a flash fiction of sorts, and I managed to pull that one off in 440-some words.  So I don't know.  Maybe the repetitiveness of the topic was a problem too.  I do love the concept of vignettes--and flash fiction--so I might look for some more prompts here and there when I'm feeling ready to take breaks from DoT.

It's Me (Shannon)!

Here I am! My poor sister. I have wondered if some readers have been doubting my existence, and started to question whether she has some kind of delusional disorder, due to my complete lack of presence on this blog. I realize I have failed miserably at blogging lately. Sorry Jo!

Truth is, I am going bonkers over here. The good news is, I will be able to write on a regular basis after October 10th.

I wanted to give a quick update, because some pretty big things have happened. I think the last time I wrote, I was anguishing over whether I passed my test or not (actually, I was convinced I had failed it). So, apparently my gut reaction is unbelievably retarded, because I passed it with room to spare. Then, I like...blinked, and I got promoted to Program Coordinator (I got a nice raise, and was switched to salary and everything...Yippee!). One thing with my new position though- the position requires one to be licensed as a psychologist because half of the job is providing clinical supervision to interns. I am not licensed yet. Since I am so close, my work gave me the job, and came up with a Band-Aid solution for the next few months (basically, they brought in a licensed clinical psychologist to work a couple times a week to provide the interns with their supervision until I am able to take over that role).

This was a perfect scenario for me because it gave me the job I wanted, but it also gave me the time to study for my last test (the CPSE) and take the five CEs (online courses ranging from 7 hours to 15 hours in length) I needed for licensure. No stress. YAY. And when I DID feel ready to supervise the interns, I could gently transition into that role with plenty of guidance.

Except our Band-Aid solution suddenly quit.

Now I have 8 interns with no supervisor, and no other back up plan. They simply cannot accrue any hours until I am licensed. My test was already scheduled for the 10th, but I realized I would have to take all my CEs before the test, to speed up the process. For the last week, I put all my studying on the back burner so I could focus on cranking out those stupid classes. I finished the last one three days ago, and sent those all to the Board of Psychology along with a $400 check to pay for my license, and an emotional plea to please expedite the process. The ONLY THING standing in the way of me and my license in ONE STUPID TEST. Now I am back to studying, but I have less than 2 weeks to get this stuff down, and I am bombing the practice tests. Oh, one more thing. If I fail this, I can't take it again for 6 months. But no pressure or anything.

This was really boring, but I felt the need to explain my absence on our blog. Wish me luck!

Settling In

It's such a pretty night, and I'm doing nothing but listening to beautiful music.  My manuscript went stagnant this week after my blog went MIA.  It occurred to me that it's harder for me to write without my word meter.  Such a stupid little thing, but without being able to see myself progressing, I get discouraged before I even begin.  I'm like a little kid--I need that affirmation.  Now my little ticker is back and I should be able to get a couple thousand words pounded out soon (I hope).

This week was relaxing, somehow.  It helps that I adore my students this year.  Like, all of them, which is rare.  I wish I could retire with this group and end my career on a high.  One thing I find amusing is they are all so eager to volunteer for stuff, even before they know what they're volunteering for.  Today I needed a volunteer to be my "technical assistant."  Here's how that went down:

"I need a volunteer to--"  (twenty hands shoot up in the air, I raise my eyebrows) "--to clean my toilets this weekend and every alternating Thursday." (They roar with laughter).  "Cool, I'll take you, you, and YOU.  Thanks guys!"  

I'd like to say they learned their lesson, but yeah...no.
   

Clint was gone for five days and just got back today.  His schedule is still an adjustment, but it's getting easier.  I can finally sleep through the night now without jumping at every noise.  It helps that the dogs sleep in the house now.  And the rooster, but that's a whole 'nother story.  It also helps that I booby-trap all my doors.   

Okay, I might be a touch on the paranoid side.    

We have a birthday party tomorrow.  It's my little niece (Moo's little girl) who's turning three, but it's a costume party.  I guess that sounds odd.  Every year we have a themed-costume night with Clint's family around Halloween; this year everyone voted to move it up a month because we're all crazy-busy for Halloween.  So they decided to have the costume party for my niece's birthday.  The theme is Enchanted Forest.  I'm dressing up as...well, I don't know what it is.  I picked up the costume last year for 50% off, and it's some kind of purple, girly one-eyed woodland creature/monster thing.  Maybe I'll call myself the "One-eyed, one-horned, flying purple people eater."  Anything can be found in an enchanted forest, right?

Speaking of birthdays, Shan and I celebrated our 35th last week.  I wasn't depressed to turn 35, which surprised me.  I think it helps that I inadvertently roll my sister's successes into my own, and between the two of us we kicked ass this year (I can say that in my blog because I'm an awkward ball of insecurity in real life).  For our birthday, as I mentioned before, we went to the LA County Fair.  It was both fun and not at the same time.  Fun throughout most of the day while we were enjoying margaritas, funnel cake, and shopping; not fun when I got terrible cramps/fatigue that night (three guesses why) and lost the three dresses my parents had bought me for my birthday.  They were all in one bag, and I had set the bag down when Clint and I were talking to a guy about possibly installing an in-ground pool.  When we left the booth to catch up to my family, I realized I had left it behind.  When I ran back to get it, the bag was gone.  I knew for a fact that if I told my parents I had lost it, my dad would want to re-purchase the dresses--which would make me feel even more crummy.  So I decided to lie.  When I reunited with my parents, I forced a cheery smile on my face and said I had found the dresses, and Clint had made me stuff them into my backpack so I wouldn't lose them again.  They believed me and everyone was happy.  Except for Shannon--she walked up to me about five minutes later and whispered "You're so full of it. You didn't find that bag."  I was shocked.  I whisper-exclaimed, "How did you know? I thought I was so convincing!"  She said, "You were.  I just know you."

Twin sisters.  Or therapists.  Either way, *sigh*.

Signing off now to listen to more music.  I wonder if songs of the future will ever be as good as those of the past.  It seems impossible.  Here's an old-school piece I ran into on YouTube--Total Eclipse of the Heart.  This was my mom's all-time favorite song in the 80s.  She rarely blasted music, but she would blast this one, which was much more preferable at the time than Crimson and Clover, over and OVER (also her favorite).  Total Eclipse has got some of that 80s corniness, but wow does her voice and the instrumental get powerful.  I bet you Bonnie Tyler collapsed when she reached the end of this song...it had to be exhausting.  Seriously, it practically blows up near the end.  It's like a gripping story line, with that steady build-up of rising action, until it peaks at the climax and all that intensity explodes...okay, I swear I'm not talking dirty.  Those are the appropriate terms.  Really.

Whatever.  Never mind.

I love these lyrics because they're no frills.   

Twice upon a Time

This is me with my manuscript lately.  Jumbled.  Confused.  Trying to get into that "zone" but interrupted again and again before I have a chance to come up with a coherent thought.  I think the words "Twice upon a time" sum it up the best.  Seriously.

BUT--today was an exception.  Elijah went to Soak City with his best friend Lino, and Trin's at ASB camp this weekend.  And of course Clint is gone on his usual three hour tour, except for instead of three hours it's three days.  So, as I saw it, I had two choices on how to spend my kid- and hubby-free day:  Shop for some new fall clothes, or pluck away at the manuscript.  As tempted as I was to go shopping, ultimately the manuscript won.  It's so rare for me to have uninterrupted hours of writing time that I knew I had to jump on it.  It was a good call, because I increased my word count by 6% today in a mini-writing marathon that was spread amongst McDonald's, Starbucks, and my couch.  I could have done even more, too, if I hadn't gotten a late start (Elijah didn't leave for Soak City until this afternoon), and if I hadn't have spent the first two hours editing previous chapters.  But still--6%!  I am now at 61,461 words, and 82% finished.  I can't believe this manuscript will be done in a little over 13,000 words.  Not too shabby for someone whose life is on a perpetual spin-cycle lately.

This week was a serious improvement over last week.  I'm still out of my mind busy, but I think I'm starting to acclimate.  I got all my forms turned in for Builders Club, designed our club t-shirts, and managed to stay on top of my grading, so I'm feeling pretty good.  Clint finally got two days off on Wednesday and Thursday, and he was in a much better mood.  I think he's starting to adjust to things too.  He installed hardwood flooring in Trin's room on his days off and brought lunch to my work, so he won some brownie points there.  But what won him the most brownie points was a comment he made.  It's hard to explain.  He was talking about I-can't-remember-what, and at the end of his monologue he said offhandedly "If you're even working as a teacher next year."  He continued to talk, but I stopped him and said, "Wait--what?  Why wouldn't I be a teacher next year?"  He just blinked at me in confusion and said, "Well, you know.  Assuming you get your book published."  I think I just sat there staring at him.  Then I threw myself into his arms, gave him a giant hug, and sauntered off.  I'm pretty sure he still has no idea what he did.  Isn't it awesome when the men in our lives slip and say something so very very right?

I won't be getting my book published next year, but his casual faith in the idea warms me.

On Saturday the 21st, per tradition, I'm going to the L.A. County Fair to celebrate my birthday with my family.  I'm super excited to go.  The only downfall is I have to do the Tumbleweed Parade first, which means I won't be able to leave for the fair until around 11:00 in the morning (and yes, I still work under the pretense that my hometown is a 'secret,' even though I know at this point my whereabouts are blatantly obvious).  

Off-topic, but my smoke detectors are demon-possessed.  They started going off for no reason.  And we're not talking about little chirps--we're talking full fledged fire alarms.  It started last week, and nothing I did would make them stop--including pushing the reset button.  I finally had to call my father in-law and wait outside with Elijah.  Carey ended up removing all but one smoke detector (the one in my master bedroom) to get them to stop.  It seemed to solve the problem, until three days ago, at 2:40 in the morning, the one and only remaining smoke detector went berserk.  Since it was right there in my bedroom and I had been dead-asleep, the noise was ear-splitting.  Luckily Clint had come home from work that night around midnight, so he was able to grab the ladder from the garage and take down the last smoke detector.  All of this happened on a school night, so yeah.  Fun stuff.

Off to do something else now that doesn't involve staring at a screen.  Feels like I've been tapping at this keyboard all day.  Well, I sort of have.

Twice upon a Time would almost work as a title for my book.  Too bad it's already taken by some teen-bop looking series.  

 

Forgotten Post

I just discovered this post from last week that I never published.  I almost deleted it, since basically I was just complaining about life.  But then I changed my mind.  This was my reality, and even though I'm feeling a hundred times better now, it's all still valid stuff.  But I will immediately follow this post with a new one because I'm super excited about the progress I've made on my manuscript today. 

Okay, here it is: 

This has been one of those crushing, stressful sort of weeks.  I hope that something breaks this cycle soon, because there were several times my mind actually said the words "I can't do this much longer."

It's not anything specific.  It's just life.  Work is taking everything out of me.  And then Clint's schedule is plunging our lives into a mini-chaos.  It's not so much that he's periodically gone.  I can make my peace with that.  It's the unpredictability of the job.  It makes it so difficult to settle into a pattern.  For example, he left early Thursday morning (the last time I saw him was Wednesday night) to jump on a train, telling me he would be home the next night.  Well now it's Saturday, and he still hasn't come home.  In three days, I've received no phone calls from him, and exactly three texts, all of them saying something to the effect of "Sorry I missed you babe, I'll try to call you when I can."  The problem is engineering affords him zero opportunities to call (they can't use their cells while driving a train--a fact I'm sure the general public appreciates), and when he finally arrives to his destination, I'm in the middle of teaching, or it's the middle of the night.  By the time I'm available to talk, he's back on a train again.   

But even more frustrating is when he's home, he's moody.  The new job is depleting his energy, so he comes home and starts being overly-snappy with the kids, etc.  And I get it, but I still feel resentful.  Because here I've held together a happy household for two or three days, and with one fair swoop he comes in and changes the mood from relaxed and carefree to negative and tense.  

I said I wasn't going to do Builders Club again, but of course I lied, so there's that.  We had our first meeting after school on Thursday, and around 65 kids showed up, all of us packed into my small classroom equipped to hold 35 at the max.  My air conditioner has been working sporadically at best this week, so you can imagine how oppressive the temperature was with 65 bodies serving as miniature heaters.  Then, because someone upstairs likes to watch me squirm, the president of Kiwanis decided to show up during our first meeting.  If she had shown up for meeting #3 or #4, after the club was calmed down and the kids were already trained in proper meeting etiquette (like making motions and such), that would have been spectacular.  But she decided to come to the very first one.  With 65 kids, a shortage of handouts, and stinky heat.  Awesome.  

She did give me a huge hug when she left, and told me that Kiwanis really wants to support me and be involved with Builders this year, so I'm thinking the meeting wasn't as disastrous in real life as it was in my head.  She said that if I needed anything, to give her a holler.  As of yesterday, I found out that Kiwanis is going to pay for a service project that my club is doing in November, including the school bus.  I'm thrilled, because my club is broke this year.  But now I'm already up to my ears in paperwork and approvals for our upcoming events, and when you're trying to do all of this while simultaneously grading papers, planning lessons, and raising kids essentially by yourself, it's enough to make you want to curl up in the fetal position. 

I've been dreaming every night.  In one of the dreams, I was dangling from some sort of ledge.  There was someone dangling with me, and I don't know who it was but I was so happy that they were there that I knew I could hold on to that ledge forever.  In another dream, I was trying to get to my manuscript, but a black furry monster kept blocking my path.  In last night's dream, there were rabbits all over my classroom.  At least my dreams are silly, because life right now--not so much.

A Memorable Night--with Cookies, Even

Okay, let me just get this entry over with so I can get back to talking about superficial things like the rooster living in my daughter's bathroom or the bunny who thinks our fireplace is his rabbit hole.

Here is the link to the newspaper article I appeared in:  The Hesperia Star.  The photo they captioned me in is terrible.  But to be fair, I'm not graceful with surprises at all.  I pretty much fell apart.

Let me explain real fast.  I knew I had won Teacher of the Year at my own school site.  That news came out right before we went on summer break.  So last week, me and 47 other teachers and staff members who had won Employee of the Year at their own school sites attended a ceremony to receive our silver apple awards.  They also baked us fresh chocolate chip cookies in some portable oven-thingy.  Kay, I guess that detail is irrelevant, but I still remember smelling the cookies when I walked up to get my award.  ANYWAY--I had received my award and was standing up there with the other 47 employees, when they announced that they were now going to name the district-wide Teacher of the Year.  This means that, of all the winners, they had chosen one teacher for elementary school and one for secondary (middle- and high-) school to receive the district-winner plaque.  At this point I had practically tuned the ceremony out.  We had been standing on display beneath a bright light for awhile, and I was eager for them to announce the final "winners" so I could get off the stage and reunite with my family.  They called up the elementary teacher first, and she had to walk past me to get up to the front.  She was so surprised, and I remember putting my arm on her and telling her how amazing it was.  Then suddenly, I hear them say my school's name.  My skin went really hot, and I thought I must have heard that wrong.  Then I hear my name.  Apparently my picture went up on an overhead screen; I never saw that.  But the people directly around me started going crazy; someone said "That's you Jodi!" and propelled me forward.  After that, it was all a blurry whirlwind of congratulations and tears (those were mine) and camera flashes and an interview with our local newspaper in which I said words that I can't remember saying.

Me before I fell apart--I had to get ready for the ceremony in my classroom since it began at 4:30.

My family (minus Clint, who was in Kansas). Shan was hilarious--remind me to tell you about her "contributions" to my interview later.

The Fam. =)

Me with my vice-principal (left) and two friends/silver apple recipients.

Me and the Superintendent (yikes--super blurry)

There're are a ton more pics out there somewhere.  I have pics with my principal, colleagues, and so on.  But they're all divided amongst a bunch of different cell phones--none of which are mine--so this is all I've got for now.

Why don't I deserve this award?  Well, consider the following excerpts I pulled from past blog entries:

1. My pet rats escaped again last night....
2. I had to perform a staple-ectomy on one of my students yesterday.  He stapled his finger.  I mean, really stapled his finger, to the point where the staple was completely embedded into his flesh.  I just applied lots of pressure, counted to three, and pulled that sucker out.  If you yourself have any surgery requirements, I'd be glad to assist.
3. Spelling Bee starts tomorrow, and I'm the Master of Ceremonies person again.  I'm excited because I love the break from the classroom, hanging out with the judges, and eating chocolate (there's always chocolate).
4. I just about threw in the towel today as far as teaching was concerned.  The only standards my kids mastered were how to effectively cover their ears and squish stuff.
5. Today I slammed a student's head with the door....
6. I decided my homeroom will officially be a heart-making sweat shop tomorrow.  I am also sending paperclips to four other homerooms (although two of the teachers don't know this yet).  With five different factories working for twenty minutes, I'm hoping that this will be enough to get us through lunch tomorrow.  Is it wrong to make the kids bend paperclips through the Pledge of Allegiance?
7. Several times, in an attempt to lunge for balloons, students actually dove head-first into the trash can.
8. The rest of the week went by pretty smoothly, except for the fact that one student stole Axe Bodyspray from another student's backpack and then proceeded to spray it, which for reasons still unclear to me led to a bag of Cheetos exploding all over my room. 
9. So not only is mild cursing good for student-learning, but it actually provides the teacher some much needed therapy throughout the day.
10. This morning I decided to take Ms. Frisbee on a field trip to Mr. A's office so that he could see exactly the sweet little innocent creature who was thrown across my room and perhaps take the matter more seriously.  He isn't entirely comfortable with rodents, but I finally managed to talk him into holding her.  She then peed all over him. 
11. One of my students today threatened to burn my car down.  I know, *gasp*, but it was actually part of a bad joke.  I asked said-student if I could choose which vehicle he decided to douse with kerosene, because my 2007 HHR was getting really dirty.  
12. Next, we played "Telephone."  I started the game by whispering "Raining cats and dogs is my favorite idiom."  After the message passed through 36 sets of ears, it came out as "Pink gay bunnies."
13. During the power outage, one student walked into class late.  I stated "You're tardy Elise, but I have no proof, so have a seat." 
14. It makes me feel sad that I will never be these kids' teacher again.  We bond with each other throughout the year and they start to feel like family to me.  Even the little crap heads that drive me nuts start to feel like family.

Thought I'd end on a heart-warming note there for #14.

You can find the context for all of these items here:  Middle School Dribbles.

You think if the Teacher of the Year panel had followed my blog, they still would have voted for me?  (Maybe it's best not to explore that question).