Time to take our tree down, but first wanted to put this one up.
Courtesy of a FB friend in Denver.
"Now is the accepted time to make your regular annual good resolutions. Next week you can begin paving hell with them as usual." ~ Mark Twain
Here's to a Happy 2012!
Greetings of the season from Pepper the Cat and the rest of La Familia Scribe. Wherein our furry critter teaches us all a lesson - when at a loss, put a bow on it!
As I recently decreed, in quite the unoriginal fashion, "There's no place like home." Beyond that, there's no feeling like having the entirety of La Familia Scribe home for Christmas Break.
Yes, I said it. The ecomium, "Christmas Break," has unfortunately gone the way of the chalkboard in our daily schoolhouse lexicon. In a forever-PC world, we commemorate "Winter Break," "Holiday Break," or just plain "Break." Some day I do believe I'll wake up, Rumpelstiltskin-style, and find out that the Powers That Be have done away with all that holiday crapola and instituted the celebration of Festivus, for the rest of us.
Or Christmahanakwanzika, if you prefer.
At any rate, these festive baubles, shining bright in San Francisco's Ghiradelli Square, put me in mind of those near and dear. The children were nestled all snug in their beds, and all that jazz.
Here's my Christmas wish for you: That you suffer no lines at the mall and that you don't have to circle for a parking space. For too long, at least. Amen to that!
What with the stress of the upcoming holidays and all, it's no wonder some of us feel out of sorts. In a high school, any tiny thing could make one's temperature soar, from the cranky heating system that recently decided to blow frigid air on a cold winter's day to the AP Lang cherub who just scored a whopping 18.5 on a 100-point test.
But I don't often get flack from my colleagues. They're a pleasant bunch, for the most part. Yes, we have the random bad apple (Get it? A teacher?), but I generally work with a group of mellow fellows. Which is why I was so surprised to receive the following e-mail from a math teacher, regarding a mutual student:
Mrs. Scribe:
1. Was AG with you during my Spartan Time period (emphasis, hers)?
2. And, if she was, why did you allow this?
I really would appreciate my students being with me during my Spartan Time.
Ms. Logic
To explain, briefly. Our school has an enrichment/remediation period every other day. It's called Spartan Time, named for our mascot. Students are free to go to any classroom for help on some days, and are assigned to others. The period in question was first period, last Friday. Since I don't have a first period class, I knew someone was telling a little white lie, and it twern't me.
I guess this gal had a burr under her saddle blanket. The student in question, after all, had told her that Mrs. Scribe had summoned her to Room 215 for Yearbook business, no doubt, causing her to miss her math remediation.
Quick thinker that I am, I diffused the situation thusly:
Ms. Logic:
1. AG was not with me. I do not have a first period, so do not allow students to do Spartan Time with me during this period (emphasis, mine).
2. I'm sad that you would believe an unreliable source like AG and assume that I would encroach on another teacher's Spartan Time.
3. Smile. It's almost Winter Break!:)
Mrs. Scribe
When I get stressed, I tend not to lash out at colleagues, except perhaps in this space. I go to my happy place, which in this case is the lovely landscaping around Ghiradelli Square in San Francisco, where I wandered the day after Thanksgiving.
So much for seeing red.
Not sure if this superior Victorian snap qualifies for a site like Awkward Family Photos, but the tale I'm about to relate most certainly does.
After a difficult day in the salt mines, I've been known to seek the solace of a well-known local coffee emporium. On days like this, I look forward to purchasing a Decaf Grande Nonfat Latte. You know, the almost-$4 beverage, which may or may not be steaming hot, and comes in a regular-sized cup that masquerades as one of the large variety.
Last Thursday, dear friends, was one of those days. As the holidays approach, it's not just the parents of small children who stress out. We teachers have been known to blow a gasket or two, what with deadlines, grading, spazzy cherubs and administrators breathing hot flames of recrimination our way.
I departed Room 215 at a relatively early 3:30, and headed on over to my neighborhood Coffee Bux. I pulled into the parking lot, and what to my wondering eyes should appear but a mid-sized SUV, covered in a variety of magnets and stickers. A vehicle so familiar to me that I've grown accustomed to automatic reactions of fear and loathing at the mere sight of this four-wheeled conveyance.
Principal Man's car.
Thoughts of retreat flashed through my noggin. Should I go or should I stay? What if he wasn't in getting coffee, but shopping at the local market instead? Or dining at one of the several food emporiums dotting the landscape?
I shut off the engine and pulled the emergency brake tight. All systems were "go" at this point. "I'll be damned," I muttered to myself, "if I'll let that small-minded man get in the way of one of my puny pleasures."
As I walked up the lot, I noticed a colleague stepping off the curb.
"Is he in there?" I queried.
"Yup." She smirked. "I just said 'hello' and split."
I pressed on, across the sidewalk and through the glass door. His back was to me, so I easily maneuvered past, ordered my beverage and waited.
It soon became clear to me that I would have to say "hi" on my way out. My Nana didn't raise a rude child. Plus, he would be facing me straight-on as I engineered my getaway.
Grabbing my hot coffee more as a shield than a comfort, I headed out, stopping at his table near the door.
"Hey there, stranger," I greeted him with false enthusiasm. "How's it going?"
And then I did the strangest thing.
I stuck out my hand. He looked at my extended appendage, unsure at first, I think, about who I was and why I wanted to shake. Absence, in this case, hadn't made the heart grow fonder; more like it had made the mind forget.
He eventually closed the gap, granting me a lukewarm handshake (instead of a kiss?) and a salutation, of sorts. He made the tiniest of small-talk, mentioning his new duties and how he was learning so much.
I wished him a happy holiday, then slithered on out, wiping the imagined grease from my clammy palm.
On the Awkwardly Silly Scale (yes, I like the acronymn, too) of "1-10," I'd say this encounter was right up there.
At about a "25-plus."
The Virginia Tech campus was under siege again. We did what all good Hokies do: We turned on the TV, fired up the Facebook, tweaked the Twitter on our smartphones and laptops in Room 215.
No, we're not all Virginia Tech grads at the suburban DC high school where I teach. But we're all Hokies. In any given year, 250 or more of our graduates are attending school five hours south of here on the Blacksburg campus.
Leslie Sherman, one of the VA Tech massacre victims of '07, was one of ours. Our last three principals have been Hokies. We sent more than three dozen cherubs down to Tech last year.
Virginia Tech is a big ~ and good ~ state school. Except, I guess, when a crazy person lets loose with a gun.
Facebook and Twitter were buzzing all of Thursday. Yes, these social networks can sometimes be annoying, but they're great for keeping us connected. We didn't have that immediacy in the wake of 9/11.
It was heartening to receive a Tweet from a Tech freshman Thursday after the lunatic had killed two people and the campus was on lockdown. Last year's Sports Editor ~ a cherub for three years ~ from thanked me for my concern, and added a comforting PS: "Me and D. are safe...A. and S.are safe, too. It's a scary situation."
He knew I'd want to know about his other friends, also former students. He later Tweeted to his followers, "No longer on lockdown. Prayers go out to the victims, though."
And his last Tweet before I posted this? "Psalm 18. #lookitup"
Well, I did look it up. And I learned something. This particular Biblical gem is quite long, and a tad violent in parts. But this nugget spoke to me:
"I will call upon the LORD, who is worthy to be praised:
so shall I be saved from mine enemies."
From the mouth of babes, correctamundo?
PS: Sam Dean, a photographer who lives near the Virginia Tech campus, posted this snap yesterday. Notice the reflection of the sky and the idyllic campus next to the left arm of the SWAT team officer. Prescient.
This time last year I was taking a class at a local elementary school. It's not uncommon to hold professional development in local schools, but they don't often make us sit in teeny-tiny chairs at midget-sized library tables.
Having to squat to sit down and also to pee (pint-sized toilets, too!) put me in mind of my daughter's friend, who teaches 5th grade. She often posts brilliant kid-type observations on her Facebook page.
Last year I quoted quite a few of these aphorisms. Today, I'll do the same. Oh, and the snap above is from that self-same 5th-grade classroom. Scribbles courtesy of a 10-year-old, I reckon!
Kid Moment of the Day: I have been telling the kids that if they don't put their names on their papers they'd owe me cheesecake. Today a girl presented me with a huge slice and said, "I always put my name on my paper but I thought you could use some cheesecake."
Today a girl in my class asked me to "besparkle" her project. I'm pretty sure I can just retire now on this accomplishment.
Kid Moment of the Day: While walking back to my room from dropping my kids off at lunch, I ran across a group of fifth-graders. I asked them what they were doing and they replied that they were supposed to have special lunch but it got canceled. The only boy in the group asked if they could eat with me. I replied yes. Then he turned to his friends and exclaimed, "See?! I told you I had the moves like Jagger!!"
Today I threatened my chatty children that if they didn't finish their poem they'd have to have lunch with me and finish it. Then a flurry of children asked if they could purposely not finish to eat with me. Guess I have to change my consequence.
I'm in my 18th year of teaching high school at a suburban DC venue. I've seen quite a bit during my tenure here: The principal who grew overly concerned when he started learning about nefarious doings on his watch by reading the student newspaper; the librarian who prefered to imbibe on the job and had to one day be escorted home by this self-same principal; the cherubs who became burrito bandits and placed their bets with the guidance counselor.
But I've never seen a student massacre an assignment quite like this.
I was calmly grading AP Lang journals last week when I came upon the scene of the crime. Three consecutive pages of brownish-redish smears. Since students often eat when they do their homework, I assumed the culprit was a drippy chocolate concoction of some variety, possibly Frappachino in origin.
Until, that is, I saw the notation pictured above. My comment, scribbled in blue grading pen, did no justice to the feelings percolating inside of me. This child, I believe, took her assignment way beyond the boundaries of decency. And gave new meaning to the Churchillian statement, "I have nothing to offer but blood, toil, tears and sweat."
BTW, I do have something more to offer to you. Voting for the 2011 Edublogs is underway. As you may recall, I've come in second-best in this contest by a mere handful of votes for the last two years. Please vote early - and often! I'm up for Best Individual Blog, and you're allowed to cast one vote per day until the stroke of midnight on December 14. I guess we'll all turn into pumpkins then, correctamundo?
As I reminded y'all here, it's that time of year again. Nominations for the 2011 Edublog Awards close Friday, and I've received another nod, this time from Ella Numera Dos.
"Melissa B. has been out there since 2008," my Youngest writes, "sharing her wisdom, and ignorance, on education subjects large and small. She's taking responsibility for helping to get rid of Principal Man, and for showing her cherubs their way in this crazy world."
Thanks, kiddo! Not to brag or anything, but the child does have a way with words. She also knows that her Mom needs nominations from several bloggers to get into the running this year.
OK, I'm really not begging, but if you are so inclined, please post a little something favoring my candidacy, and follow the instructions here.
And you're not seeing double. Dos shot this Superior Snap in Wisconsin's Fox River Valley, and shared it in her nominating post.
As always, thank you for your support!
