With Eyes Wide Open

He kept putting his head down on the desk. That's what teenaged boys do after lunch, when the carbs kick in and the heat kicks on.

She kept trying to get his attention, to no avail.

"OK, Mister," she sighed. "If you want to sleep, you can try it, sitting up. I refuse to be an enabler!"

She took away his desk. He sat there, ramrod straight in a plastic classroom chair, both feet on the ground. A goofy puppy, who hadn't quite adjusted to his new environs.

"You move, and I'll give you a zero," she cautioned. She then relocated his desk to the other side of the room.

He sat there, non-committal. Stretched. Yawned. Stared straight ahead.

Still asleep. With eyes wide open,.

A Rose is a Rose

I'm
open

to suggestions.

How should I expand
my horizons,
my blog?

How do I open up
to
my students,
my family?

How do I
learn
everything
I need to know?

A rose is
still
a rose ~ open.

Except when it isn't.

Please join in! If you'd like to participate in Mrs. Scribe's Poetry Slam, just scribble some verse, then link to this blog. And while you're at it, please leave a comment letting everyone know it that you're a poet!

Getting a Leg Up

We are Family

Yesterday, I lamented the chilliness of the Upper Midwest. Today, I woke up to DC temps measuring 27 degrees. The cold, however, never manages to detract from the warmth generated by La Familia Scribe's holiday gatherings.

Whether we're in DC (like these ducks at the Reflecting Pool on The National Mall), Wisconsin or even The OBX (where we plan to migrate come Christmas time), we still feel the tug of that age-old maxim:

Home is Where the Heart Is!

Baby, It's Cold Outside

Woke up this morning to 15 degrees above and overcast skies. Yes, I realize that Winter is on its way, but when my vehicle's doors wouldn't open on Thanksgiving night without a little extra tug (yes, car doors sometimes freeze shut here in the Upper Midwest), I realized why I'm not a permanent resident of the Dairy State.

Tea-Partiers will tell you that "out here" the folks are friendly, they're honest and they're always willing to help. True, but Our Nation's Capital has one up on the hinterlands. Thanksgiving in DC, the city those folks love to hate, usually hangs around the 60s, and in some cases has busted out into the 80s for Turkey Day. Yesterday when I took my pre-dinner stroll, DC's temps were about 50 degrees warmer than the canyons of Madison's State Street.

I'm headed back today into chillier-than-normal temps, I'm told. But tomorrow, when the rest of La Familia Scribe is braving the crowds and the cold (highs in the mid-30s) at the University of Wisconsin-Northwestern game, I'll be snuggled up with Pepper the Cat and a batch of student papers. The above snap, BTW, features a reflection of the weather in the campus building next door to historic Camp Randall Stadium.

There's no place like home, correctamundo?

Have a Cow

Mama Kat's Prompt #2: Share a photo of what Thanksgiving
looks like in your neck of the woods.

Well, I'm exaggerating a tad here. But La Familia Scribe is gathered together not only to ask the Lord's blessing, but to avoid getting on each other's last nerve this Thanksgiving.

Madison, Wisconsin is our home away from home this Turkey Day. We've so far skirted real bad weather, although the numbing cold plans to stick around the remainder of the week. Ella Numera Una is hosting us at her college pad today. So far, we've had to do prep work in shifts.

I whipped up some fabulous Smashed Red Potatoes (recipe below) in the petite kitchen, while the girls shuffled things around in the living room. Ella Numera Dos then comandeered the kitchen space to whip up three fabulous pies (Lemon Meringue, Pumpkin and Apple).

Ella Una and the new BF then whipped up a fantastic Thanksgiving Eve meal involving grilled chicken and the most bountiful salad I've ever eaten. Meanwhile, my Lil' Sis came in from San Francisco, so we'll have an even happier time today. When the Scribes celebrate, they go all out!

I'm most thankful that we'll all be in one place this Thanksgiving, and praying that the roads stay dry so that we can continue to enjoy our time together and then return to our respective domiciles safe and sound at the end of the holiday weekend.

In the meantime, here's a great recipe that's really not as violent as it sounds, but twice as delicious. Happy Thanksgiving, y'all!

Smashed Red Potatoes

2 pounds small red potatoes
4 cloves garlic, peeled, sliced
1 teaspoon salt
3 tablespoons butter
1/4 to 1/2 cup milk or half-and-half
Salt and pepper, to taste

Preparation:
Scrub potatoes and cut into small chunks. Put potatoes and the sliced garlic in a medium saucepan; cover with water and add salt. Bring to a boil; cover, reduce heat to medium-low and continue cooking until potatoes are tender, about 20 minutes.

Remove from heat and drain well. Pour into a bowl and mash with the butter and milk or half-and-half. Add salt and pepper to taste.Serves 4 to 6.

The Norske Nook

No, I'm not from "Up

Nort." But I love baking in

The Old Country Way!

Home Alone?

As some of you know, I'm traveling this holiday week. As part of my semi-annual pilgrimage to the Upper Midwest, I always visit the in-laws in Northeastern Wisconsin.

My SIL, like many of us, craves her Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz's. The maxim "Early to bed, early to rise..." was tailor-made, just for her.

So, when my youngest acquired me at the airport Friday night and told me that I'd be responsible for taking a whole herd of her friends out to dinner, I called my SIL to tell her not to wait up. She said, "No problem." She and hubby planned to eat out with friends and probably would be back and in bed before I showed my pearly whites.

The kids and I frolicked at a hibachi grill place 'til about 9 or so. I dropped my chica back on campus and headed on down the road. About 20 minutes later, I pulled up at the house.

No lights, except on the porch. Pitch black. I assumed everyone was still out.

I let myself in (yeah, there are some folks around these parts who still leave their doors unlocked) and hollered, "Helloooooooooo..." My 15-year-old nephew ~ the only one apparently home except for the dogs ~ answered my call. Our convo went like this:

"Hey, Auntie Scribe. How was your trip?"

"No problems, no pat-downs. Are your folks still out?"

"Yup."

"I'll just wait for them here, then." I joined the lad on the couch for a game of "Mafia," or whatever he was killing that evening.

Well, 9:30 turned into 10, and 10 morphed into 10:30. Before I knew it, Nephew was sacked out on the couch, catching a few winks, video controller firmly clenched in his right hand. I dialed my SIL's cellie. Only voicemail picked up.

Around about 11:15-ish, I made the executive decision to pack it in and head upstairs. As I crested the top step, however, I heard the droning of a TV down the hall.

"Kids," I muttered to myself, thinking that Nephew had left the tube on.

I went into the room at the far end of the hall. A lump stirred under the covers. SIL sat up.

"Oh, hey," she said. "You sure were out late."

"I've been waiting for y'all downstairs for about two hours," said I. "I thought you were still out on the town."

She turned and squinted at the clock.

"What are you talking about?" SIL queried. "We haven't seen this side of 11 p.m. in 20 years!"

And I've never met a high school freshman who could see beyond the here and the now.

Uffda!

Christmas arrived
yesterday
in Northeastern Wisconsin.

Tradition demands
baking
the Norwegian treats
from the Old Country
that make the season special.

We toasted Norwegians
not with us,
and those
who are of
"mutt"
extraction (like me!)
who've learned the old ways.

Sandbakkels
Krumkakke
...Special sugar cookies...
and Lefse.

Potato pancakes,
dough rolled flat
and flipped onto a special
skillet.

Cooled.
Slathered with
butter,
sugar.

Uffda!

The Rocket's Red Glare

Go, Go, Power Rangers!

Trini, Billy, Barry, Shrek, Furbie, Baseball?

Spring Cleaning means dusting off all the Happy Meal Toys (at last count, more than 300!) and boxing them up 'til the next school year rolls around. These six almost got left behind last time around. I had decided it was a good idea to let the Power Rangers guard Room 215 during the dog days of summer, but relented in mid-June, and popped them into a box as well.

Why am I chronicling all this now? I was doing a little laptop purging today and came upon this snap. I'm traveling, and this seem like the perfect random shot for a Saturday in late November.

What You Crave

I was having a fast-food flashback the other day, and remembered this snap from my trip to Asbury Park, NJ.

When I was a wee one, my extended familia resided in South Florida. My uncle would pile the kids in the car and take us out for burgers. We mostly grazed on Burger King, which was near his home in Coral Gables. But every so often, if we whined long enough and loud enough, he'd head on up the road a piece to White Castle.

I distinctly remember the tiny, square (definitely pre-Wendy's) burgers on the bread that was more like a Parker House Roll than a hamburger bun. And no, I didn't make the Parker House comparison as an 8-year-old. That came later, when I actually visited Boston and dined at that hotel so well-known for its Thanksgiving-like rolls.

At any rate, White Castle had sliders before sliders were known as sliders. And my older cousin, Douglas, could eat about a million of them right out of the bag on the way home.

I'm wondering, though. Am I having a memory spasm or did all of this really happen? I distinctly remember dining on White Castle with my Uncle and cousins. In South Florida. And Douglas gobbling up the goodies on the way home in the ancient family station wagon.

One of my colleagues, who's familiar with all things FLA, tells me there are no White Castles in the Sunshine State. I Googled it, just to make sure, and apparently she's right.

So, the question remains: Did I really eat at White Castle on those long-ago family trips down south, or was it only a dream?

And this snap wasn't shot near the boardwalk in Asbury Park. We stopped for some sliders 'n' fries in Freehold, home to Springsteen and~I reckon~at least one White Castle.

Need to Get Some Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzsss...

Mama Kat's Prompt #1: Why are you burned out?

10. Probably because I give more than I get.
9. Most likely because I grade more than I relax.
8. Perhaps because I've got a cough & cold that just won't quit.
7. Methinks it has to do with the changing seasons.
6. Inevitably, all teachers hit a wall right after 1st Quarter ends.
5. I know it must be because I'm staying up late and getting up at Oh Dark Thirty.
4. Maybe because I didn't start thinking about the holidays soon enough?
3. I reckon it's Mom Guilt. I'm preoccupied with my chicas.
2. Because I work all kinds of crazy hours and still come home and cook a nice dinner at the end of the day.
1. Indeed, I seem to be trending toward a vacation. Looks like I'll get my wish tomorrow. Mad City, here I come!

Haute Couture

Shower Shoes

Never been one to
blend in,
fade away,
sit
on the sidelines.

Always been one who
spoke out,
questioned,
hollered
back, y'all.

I dance to
my own beat,
swing on my own
pendulum,
walk backwards
in the rain.

That's why
I
wear
shower shoes.

Do you have something to say? Say it today, by linking to Mrs. Scribe's Poetry Slam. We don't have a linky yet, but click your heels together just three times, and perhaps we'll connect!

I Wanna Bang on the Drum All Day...

My chicas are quite the studious types, and I say that with more than a modicum of sarcasm. The fact is that when they're in the library, one of two things could happen. They might give in to the urge to study, or they'll most likely cruise through Facebook. I think that recently, as the holidays have approached the latter has been the case, as evidenced by the following:

Dear girl sitting across from me at the law library:
Last time I checked, there was no need for a calculator or crazy mathematical formulas in law school. Please go to your own library because you are sick and smell like cough drops.
Love, Ella Numera Una

Dear FB Friends:
I have four pages left for my paper that's due next week, so I'm gonna go shopping.
Later, Ella Numera Dos

Dear Brett (Favre):
You are supposed to throw to the people in purple. Not the people in green and gold. That's called an interception. However, we do like it when you throw it to us because then we win.
Your Former Fan, Ella Numera Una

To Whom It May Concern:
I don't want to work. I wanna bang on the drum all day.
Packers Forever, Ella Numera Dos

The last is a reference to the classic Todd Rungren song that plays at Lambeau Field when the Green Bay Packers score. And the snap above was secured, I'm sure, in dreadfully cold weather. So why is the chica on the left showing off her amazing abs? Damned if I know.

We all have our priorities. At least I know where my hard-earned salary is going, correctamundo?

Splish, Splash!

Moo

Star Light, Star Bright, First Star I See...

Christmas is coming,
of that I am aware,
'Cause I drove on through my neighborhood
and saw the sight up there.

Christmas is coming,
I saw that plainly here.
With the twinkling lights and shining star
the holiday is near.

Christmas is coming,
I know it's on the way.
Because my neighbor trimmed his tree
to welcome Veterans' Day!

Courtesy of the Red, White and Blue

Hershey's Makes the Very Best...

Ode to Summer, and a Hummer

We "fell back" yesterday,
but, hey...
I want my summer back.

The time of year
when I don't fear
a little sun. Or some fun.

When days are hot
and sticky, not
this weird in-between, whack

weather. When humidity's
not a stranger, to me
nor any of my young-uns.

Those of the child variety
and those who, like me,
flutter with a certain knack.

Like this hummer.
I want my summer
back.

I've been thinking about a special poetry place for a good, long while. I don't know if I'm ready to launch a full-out rhyming assault, but I think it would be nice to have a corner to share lines like this every so often. Do y'all ever feel the "muse"? If so, please send me a note and I'll see about setting up a way for us all to keep in touch.

In the meantime, enjoy my summertime hummer. She and her friends were coming fairly regularly by the end of the season to my backyard feeder. Keeping the Bottle Tree and Alicia company, as it were.

Stop the Presses!

An important assignment inflicted upon all of my Intro to Journalism cherubs before I unleash them and their reporters' notebooks on an unsuspecting public, is the Room 215 Press Conference. The students gather at the feet of their mentor ~ that would be moi ~ and ask questions.

The goal is to see if they ask enough questions of depth and quality to write a half-way decent story about yours truly. And also a dynamite way to check their note-taking abilities, since I'm the one they're interviewing.

Well, I slogged through a whole class set this weekend (did I mention that I have 67 "budding scribes," crammed into two classes, this year? Dang those budget cuts!), and I was pleasantly surprised. Yes, there were a few mis-steps, to say the least ~ apparently one child thinks I have twin girls, 3 years apart and another referred to me as "elderly and wise" ~ but for the most part, I liked what I saw.

My newbies are shaping up nicely. Here are a few of the "gems," though, that could be filed under the headline, "Bloopers and Other Strange Stuff That High School Students Say." I've included my responses in italics. And no, I didn't write all of these smart-assed replies on the kids' papers. Only some of them.

• "She is the proud mother of twin girls, who are only three years apart in age." Well, they do look alike when they're wearing their cheeseheads!
• "Mrs. Scribe says she keeps teaching because she enjoys it. 'It's the money and the power, too,' she said." You betcha! Teaching is quite the lucrative profession, I'd say.
• "She's goofy, but at the same time she gets work done." With Principal Man and his Merry Band of Idiots around, sometimes that's the only way to accomplish anything.
• "The way she teaches is just really frustrating." That's a quote from one of my AP Lang students. BTW, he has a "D+" in my class.
• "She fears she will become irrelevant." Huh?
• "She's got the big picture in life." And I've also got a Room with a View.
• "She looks at the class and says, 'I'm like a big, dumb giant'." Or a Gangsta. Take your pick.
• "All of the things that teachers usually do go out the window with Mrs. Scribe." Hmmmmmmm...I thought it was only my students who go out the window?
• "Mrs. Scribe likes to mix things up. 'I don't rock the boat too much, just a little to keep it interesting." Shake it like a polaroid picture.
• "Nothing you do in high school could really affect the rest of your life unless you really, really, really screw up." And yes, that's a direct quote. I say stuff like that all the time!

The Ghost of Christmas Past

Did everyone "fall back" yesterday evening? I know I did, and am darn glad for the extra hour of sleep...

One more shot of a local merchant getting her "Christmas" on early. The juxtaposition of the mums ~ which to me connotate the sharp air and colors of Fall ~ and the Christmas tree are a nice touch, I think.

At least I won't have to commute in the black of night when I arise at Oh, Dark Thirty tomorrow morning!