Teach Your Children Well

Mama Kat's Prompt #4: Kids say the darndest things
…describe a time a child’s honesty made you think.

Those of you who know me know that my cherubs ~ aka the journalistas of Room 215 ~ are an extension of my immediate family. The same interpersonal interactions are at play in this environment, only on a muchly magnified ~ and slightly loud and smelly ~ scale.

We love, we hate, we yell; we come as close to kissing and making up as the law will allow.

So, I don't know why I'm always so surprised when one of them ~ especially one of the seasoned veterans, long removed from the highs and lows of secondary education, spills in a simply sentimental way.

I'm really the luckiest educator, as they say, in the world. Please enjoy this homage to a high school journalism profesora, written by Valerina, the mistress at In the Wonderful World of Oz. She penned this missive as part of the nominating process for the 2011 Edublog Awards.

Mrs. Scribe’s blog is an all-encompassing account of her life: from school, to home, cooking, family and travels you get a snapshot into the seemingly ordinary life of this high school teacher, which is spiced up with her extraordinarily hilarious witticisms and anecdotes. She details her trials and tribulations as a mother, educator, baker and oppressed creative soul under the regime of her evil nemesis-Principal Man. Occasionally she will cameo the critters in her home, or students of years past, always tying it in with something current or timely while keeping it fresh and funny. She has a talent for creating perfectly descriptive and biting nicknames for the evil doers in her life, and you can be sure that a mention of #nachos will sneak its way in somehow. I nominate Mrs. Scribe for Best Teacher Blog and Best Individual Blog!

FYI, nominations are open until tomorrow ~ Friday, December 2. This year, they're considering how many nominations a blogger receives before putting them into the actual competition. Sooooooo...If you have a blog and are interested in putting me in the running for the third year in a row, please do a gal a favor and click here.

As I always say, it's a great idea to vote early ~ and often. This goes for the nomination process, too! And thank you for your support.

No Dumping

Driving Miss Daisy

OK, I know this isn't a daisy. But I'm at a loss for the name of this pretty little dot of color on the plaza below the big Ghiradelli Chocolate sign in San Francisco's Marina District.

Anyone?

Caution

Turkey Trot

I do realize that San Francisco isn't really my city. I do consider it my second home, however, since my extended family lives out there. And since Unknown Mami, who runs this meme, is an SFO resident, I post this as a tribute to her city, as well.

Spent Turkey Day in the City by the Bay. Early on Black Friday, however, I exchanged the growing throngs down by Union Square for a solitary ride to the Marina District on the Powell Street Cable Car. These photos were shot on the return ride back to my hotel on the other side of downtown.

These manually operated civic gems have been cranking and clanging up and down SFO's hills since 1873. As you can see by the concentration etched in the grip man's face, powering the cable cars is no easy feat.

I'm always thrilled when I get to hitch a ride on these contraptions. Guess you could say my Friday morning Turkey Trot was a bit of an early Christmas present ~ to myself.

Fat Cat

Bay Watch

Go, Pack, Go!

Happy Thanksgiving from Mrs. Scribe and Mama Kat's Prompt #4:
Write a poem about something you’re thankful for this Thanksgiving.

Go, Pack, Go!
Really, I'm watching you
Embarrass the Lions today,
Even though the game comes on
Not at Noon-Thirty, but at 9:30 in the a.m.

Because I'm in the "other" Bay Area for Turkey Day
And I want to celebrate
Your soon-to-be 11 and 0 record.

Push yourselves, boys, and remember:
As you take the field, I'll be
Cozy in my PJS, still trying to get over a
Kicker of a case of jet lag, a situation that
Envelopes me every time I trek across the country to see my
Relatives who live on the Left Coast.
So,

Go, Pack, Go!

My Bad

Tillie Won?

While cruising through the Scribe Archives for a suitable snap to adorn today's post, I came upon Tillie, the icon of Asbury Park, NJ.

I, of course, don't have all the historical knowledge inherent in the preservation battles that have been raging for decades in this seaside home of the Springsteen sound (Bruce, of course, is from nearby Freehold, but everyone associates The Boss with AP).

Ever alert to the artistic possibilities in life, though, I snagged this snap on a New Jersey road trip three years ago and have filled in the blanks recently with a little Internet research. To wit:

One of my old bosses gave up politics some years back to head an all-volunteer organization entitled Save Tillie, Inc. Two original paintings of Tillie, the clown-faced carnival barker featured above (which is a relatively recent knockoff) were part of Palace Amusements, the Asbury Park locale of fun and fantasy erected in 1888 and demolished by urban renewal "do-gooders" in 2004. The original Tillies were painted in 1955.

When the venue Springsteen so lovingly chronicled in his "Born to Run" met its maker seven years ago, Save Tillie, Inc., a group of Bruce fans and "Friends of Asbury Park" successfully fought to save one of the 16-ton cinderblock Tillies, along with two other murals.

Now the murals are in storage and two new Tillies adorn the roof of Lance & Debbie's Wonder Bar, a nightclub near the AP boardwalk. They were recreated for a commercial honoring the 50th anniversary of the Corvette. What goes around comes around, I guess. Or, as The Boss would say:

"Beyond the Palace hemi-powered drones scream down the boulevard
The girls comb their hair in rear-view mirrors
And the boys try to look so hard
The amusement park rises bold and stark
Kids are huddled on the beach in a mist
I want to die with you Wendy on the streets tonight
~Bruce Springsteen, "Born to Run"

Framed

Peek-a-Boo

Feet Dreams

Let the Sun Shine

Drowning Pool

Mama Kat's Prompt #5: Write a love letter to an inanimate object.

Dear Neighborhood Oasis:

You are my sunshine. And while not my only sunshine, you make me happy, even when skies are gray. Let's face it: When I bathe in your warm waters, the chlorine bubbles skimming over my back as I swim laps, I feel alive.

I beat the heat in your surrounding shadows. I let all my worries slip below your surface in the deep end. I exist in the realm of an Endless Summer when I tread your sunsplashed cement decks.

My family grew up in the womb of your warm embrace. Your name is synonymous with the sounds, scents and scenes of the best season of all.

I have no more to say to you, because with your very existence, enough is said. And yes, I'm drowning in clichés, but that's OK. Because, dear friend, you complete me.

We've bid "adieu" to you until well after the Vernal Equinox rolls around next year. But I will remember you when the snow piles up against my azaleas, and we are buried under the weight of too many snow days that we'll have to make up at the end of June.

Just remember: You made me who I am today.

Until we meet again, I remain your friend, my friend.
Mrs. Scribe

The Long Arm of the Law

Caught Red-Handed

Since I'm a high school teacher, several common American pastimes are basically verboten in my world: Dressing too much for success, vacations in Bora-Bora and, well, long lunches with friends.

My daily lunch routine goes something like this: Pull a container of leftovers from the fridge; microwave said container; shovel down last night's spaghetti-stir fry-chicken whatever, either at my desk, or down the hall in what once was known as the "Teacher's Lounge," now termed the "Work Room," for those of us on the Politically Correct side of life.

We technically have 30 minutes for lunch. But that includes a potty break and getting ready for the next classful of cherubs. So, make that 20 minutes, on a good day.

That's why, on days when I'm at work but my students are not (usually the break between quarters reserved for grading and report-card frivolity), I enjoy an occasional lunch out with friends.

Last Tuesday was no exception. I made it through piles of student papers by noon, then headed out to meet one of my buds.

I arrived at the restaurant, and parked in a proper spot. I promise!

After a lovely couple hours of delightful conversation and comestibles, I arrived back in the parking lot to acquire Big Blue, my 2002 Camry, and head on back to school.

Gone. Like a freight train. Like yesterday. Like a '59 Cadillac, for Pete's sake (and with apologies to Montgomery Gentry). I had parked, apparently, in a "no parking" zone. A truck uncerimoniously arrived during my respite and towed my modest wheels on down the highway. It took a $15 cab ride and a $110 towing fee to spring Big Blue from the slammer.

This is why, I suppose, I don't go out to lunch much. Too pricey.

A Hot Mess

I'll be grading my AP Lang cherubs' journals today. Above is an example of one of the hazards of being a high school English teacher.

This particular kiddo is an "A" student, although I don't believe she received the top grade for this assignment.

It seems she was pressed for time, and decided to do her homework while sitting on the bench at her game. Until the field hockey coach called her up to play. And then, of course, the skies let loose with a tropical downpour.

I reckon you can see by my notations on this journal entry that I was more bemused than angry. Occasions like this come with the territory. At least she turned her assignment in.

God Bless America

A Thousand Splendid Suns

1,000 posts pale compared to this!

Yes, today is my 1,000th post in this forum. I started up this blogging janx 3+ years ago to chronicle my life as a high school English teacher, and to highlight moments like this.

Thanks to all who wear the uniform, who serve our country, who've made the ultimate sacrifice. And God Bless my former student and her Dad, recently home from Afghanistan. Their touching reunion is captured in this video. I have six more words for this special day:

I dare you not to cry.

Thunder Rolls

Here's Pie in Your Eye

Mama Kat's Prompt #1, inspired by the SITS Girls' Canon Rebel Giveaway: Spending time with friends and family can lead to fun and memorable moments, but also some very messy ones. Tell us about the messiest moments that you’ll always remember.

I live many of life's messy moments vicariously. Yes, I often get in sticky situations. But I always make sure to avoid the occasional baby gak and I never, ever cry over spilled milk. The same, I'm afraid, cannot be said for my chicas.

Ella Numera Dos, the intrepid photographer in our fam, snagged this Superior Snap at a sorority fundraising event. Big Sis is the one trying to have a convo while wolfing down some kind of cream-filled concoction.

Always one in search of action shots, Dos exposes her sister's nefarious noodlings. What do you think Ella Numera Una could possibly be up to here?

And always one to get in on the action herself, notice Ella Numera Dos enter, Stage Right (or is it Left?). She's going to clobber the gal who just launched a blueberry bomb at her sibling.

All's fair in love and desserts, correctamundo? The preceding docudrama brought to you by The Power of Pie. PS: My two messy chicas are on the right.

I received information about Clorox’s Bleach It Away campaign and am sharing my messy moment for the chance to win prizes from The SITS Girls. To learn more about the messy moment program, check out www.BleachItAway.com. Sharing your story on the Clorox fan page gets you entered for the chance to win $25,000 and daily prizes, and you can grab a coupon for Clorox® Regular Bleach.