December 8, 2009
A Dash of Elf Magic
For the past week, for whatever reason, Lil C has been a total bear. The normal bedtime routine went from being simple to a two hour marathon. She wasn't feeling well, but it was getting a little ridiculous. Then, she got into my make-up after she got into her own play make-up that she smeared all over the new bathroom towels. She also took my Silk-n-Shine lip stuff, climbed into my bed, mushed it all up in her fingers and then smeared it all over Mr. BBM's nightstand and our comforter. Grease like that doesn't come out. On top of the purple pen marks that were already there, it looks fantastic.
Yesterday we went to the grocery store and as I was loading bottles of shampoo and conditioner into our cart, I heard her click one of the bottles open. I turned around, pointed at her and told her to close it and leave it alone. I heard it click. She was riding in the back of the cart and besides having to tell her to sit every fourth aisle or so, she was being an angel. When I got to check out I found out why.
Because I had my reuseable bags and purse in the top part of the cart, I didn't have a good view of what was happening below and I was in a hurry. I unloaded about half of the groceries and Lil C was helping me. Suddenly she stopped and stared at her hands. It was at the exact same moment that I picked up my Hershey's Cocoa and realized it was all white and greasy.
Conditioner.
Squeezed all over the rest of my groceries. Thankfully I had avoided self check-out that day and I had a wonderful cashier who whipped out the paper towels and started helping me clean everything up, including Lil C and the bottom of the cart. It looked as if she had flipped the cap up, and squeezed it with all her might until it exploded like a volcano.
It was then that I recalled almost wiping out in one of the back aisles, which seemed strange to me at the time because there was no bottle nearby. She must have squeezed it, scared herself half to death, and then shoved it under all the groceries where it dripped onto the floor.
Frustrated and fried didn't even begin to describe me. The cashier smiled and said, "I bet your other one is an angel." She's right. Big I never would have done anything like that. Never.
Last night, we had a neighborhood girls night complete with drinks, snacks and chair massages for nine of us. Some of the Mom's were talking about their "elf on the shelf." I decided it was time to call for some reinforcements.
Today, Lil C and I went to Borders where we picked up "The Elf on the Shelf." We got to the car and I opened up the box, revealing our own little elf. I read her the story book and her face looked amused and concerned all at the same time.
We arrived home and Lil C got busy eating her lunch. When Big I came home from school, Lil C started telling Big I about the elf and how he's magical and you can't touch him and every night he flys to Santa to give a report. Big I wanted to see him, so I helped her open the box.
The elf was gone.
Both girls started running through possibilities of where he could have gone. Lil C thought that maybe he was already flying to the north pole to give a report. Big I thought that maybe he had escaped and was hiding out somewhere in the house.
Two minutes later, our elf, Elliott was found, sitting on top of a mirror in our family room. Big I told me she swears he just smiled a little more at her when she stood there and smiled at me. Lil C told me she just heard him burp. Both girls are on their best behavior. Lil C ate all her lunch; Big I is currently cleaning her bedroom.
How I love Elliott. . . how I love Christmas magic.
December 7, 2009
American Idol It
During the first month of the semester, I did an activity with my writing class that helped shape the rest of the class. I gave them the topic of American Idol, put them in groups and told them to write down everything they knew about the topic.They thought I was crazy but they did it for a while. When they had exhausted everything they knew about American Idol, I asked them to think outside of the box and look for deeper meaning in the things they had written down.
At first, I got blank stares. Still, I held my tongue. I wanted to see what they could come up with. I didn't want to give them any further instruction because I wanted to see what they would do with my request. Slowly, activity and conversation started to pick up in the classroom. Soon there was much discussion and writing.
When I brought the class back together a little while later, what they had done was amazing. They had taken something as simple as "Simon Cowell" and turned it into a potential love triangle with Paula Abdul. They had taken American Idol auditions and turned it into a commentary on society and how we enjoy watching people self-destruct on live television. That piece of information was taken even further and before I knew it we had the entire chalkboard full of out of the box thinking and ideas. We had conspiracy theories, societal problems and concern over those crazy people who audition.
I asked them at the end of class, to write down what they had learned. Whenever I wanted them to dig deeper into their topic throughout the semester, I told them to "American Idol" it. Because of this activity, they knew just what I wanted and they got to work. These past couple days, as I reviewed their portfolios, journal entries, final research papers and final reflection papers, I realized just how much they have learned. About 70% of my class wrote something about how "American Idoling" their papers has helped them. It was a simple activity that I thought might work and it turned into a critical thinking exercise that defined our semester.
One student who never seemed to particularly like me wrote in her final paper that "American Idol" is not and should not ever be used as a verb and that she thought it was "stupid." Of all the research papers, hers was the one that lacked analysis and critical thinking the most.
Although I am mostly thrilled with the final papers (I gave some of the highest grades I've ever given) and with the progress of most of my students, it is this comment that will stick in my head. From now until I teach that course again, I will be contemplating how to reach all students in the classroom, how to get everyone to buy into the critical thinking I wanted them to do to create better papers. I hate that I will let one negative comment bother me, but I will.
It is dulled though by what happened after my final speech class. One of my writing students came jumping into my room with a paper in hand. It was her theology paper and she got an A on it. I told her I was proud of her; it was quite obvious she was proud of herself. As I packed up my stuff to leave, I asked her if she had come to show me because she applied what she learned in my writing class. Sheepishly she said, "Yeah," as she doodled on the board and drew a heart with the words "Love Ms. B" underneath.
Heart doodling to the forefront; American Idol as a verb comment to the back please.
Ah, now that's better.
If you'd like to see some other education in action, please check out this website for information regarding a cool science fair!
December 3, 2009
Put that in Your Pipe and Celebrate!!!
There is NOTHING more exciting than watching an idea come to fruition. Last week, I sent an email inquiring about the Jazz Fest in our area. One week later, our country club is a venue and we're featuring an awesome band. It is going to be awesome, and I feel like it is just the beginning of all the new and exciting things that are going to happen at the club. I'm hoping it's the first of many cool things I can help to get going at the club. It is certainly a week to celebrate, with the Jazz Fest actually happening for us and it being the last week of class at the university where I teach.
Today was my last day of class. When I arrived on campus, I had students who were still putting their writing portolio's together. Unbelievable. I actually had to raise my voice on the last day of class. Truly unbelievable.
My speech class showed up and was more prepared. During the last day of each semester for my speech class, I allow my students to create impromptu speech questions for me. I review them, discard the inappropriate ones like "which one of your students would you date and why?" and do some impromptu speeches for them.
This semester I answered the question about my most embarrassing moment (which I'm just not prepared to discuss on the blog yet-who knows if I ever will be ready to share that horror?). I also answered the question about who my favorite Flyers hockey player is: Rick Tocchet. No brainer there. Finally, I answered the question, "If you could smoke weed with one of your students who would it be and why?"
Shocked that I received that question? Yeah, so was I.
When I told them I was going to answer it, there were nervous giggles all around; but they didn't get quite what they expected. I told them that I wouldn't smoke weed with any of them because I don't smoke weed. Then I used it as a public service announcement to tell them that I thought they were all amazing people and that I truly hoped they would quit smoking weed since it's clear so many of them already are doing so. I said I didn't understand why any of them would feel it necessary to use drugs to have fun. I told them that in my experience, I've seen weed make people act stupid, that it would probably make them lazy and dumb, like the kid who did an impromptu speech in class a few weeks ago who actually said the reason he was failing all his classes is because he's been smoking too much weed. I also told them that if they are education or nursing majors, they better knock it off now. Getting caught once will ruin their future careers.
When I was finished, I reviewed my main points and wrapped up my little speech. They sat there stunned and obviously thinking. I'm glad I gave them something to think about on the last day, which is typically a wrapping-up-loose-ends-day.
I should have concluded my speech with "stick that in your pipes and smoke it."
December 1, 2009
The Great Divide
On Sunday, I spent almost the entire day at the country club, helping to decorate for the holidays. We put up four Christmas trees, yards and yards of lit garland all around the ballroom, and decorated the bar room. When we were finished I was exhausted and I'm pretty sure my surgeon would not have approved of my ladder climbing. However, when you're the youngest one, the job sort of falls to you.
Decorating was interesting to say the least. There were several board members there who are pretty obviously sour about a younger gal like me getting elected. One of them couldn't stop telling me about the 12 years she's been on the board and the hard work it is to be a board member. She was referring to my dragging a Christmas tree across the floor for her. She was also talking about how it's difficult to be a board member when you have young children because they have activities and how younger people just don't have the time. I think I prefer it when they're so sour that they won't even talk to me.
Needless to say, I set the tree up and went to hang out with the men. I was trying to stay polite and I was about at my limit. The men don't seem to mind me very much. In fact, they were more than happy to steady the ladder for me so I could hang the garland at the very top of the wall. At one point, I drove across the street to get some pipe cleaners to fasten to the garland. It will make hanging up the garland next year a piece of cake and perhaps there won't be as much bickering.
Good God the bickering.
When I returned, one of the guys had already told everyone there what a genius I am and how I had such great ideas. He whispered to me when I came back, "This better work. I've been bragging about you." I'm happy to report it worked, perfectly.
I realized a couple things while I was over there decorating. First, I don't think there's any way these older women will ever like me. It seemed to me that they spent much of their time discussing my decorating and trying to supervise me. Some of the guys told me they were talking about me in the other room. It didn't stop me from only hanging six bows on the bar instead of the standard eight. It also didn't stop me and another younger woman from hanging Christmas balls from the garland surrounding the bar. They've never done that before. I'm pretty sure people were about to have a heart attack, but it didn't stop us. One thing they'll learn about me quickly is that I don't back down and I don't like being told what to do. I'm no baby. I figure they'll hate me worse after a couple meetings. If they give me too much trouble, I'll start bringing my 92-year old grandmother with me to the club. She'll give them the smackdown alright. I'm like her favorite person on the planet. Scratch "like;" I am the hands down favorite.
Second, there is much tension at the club between warring factions. I decided that I need to do my best to stay unbiased and objective. I need to look at each decision that comes up individually.
And finally, there is so much to be done, and it is not going to be easy. When you're the youngest person on the board, I think it makes it that much more difficult to convince people you know what you're talking about. I'm going to do it though, or I'll go down trying.
Scratch that "trying" business. I'm just going to do it.
November 27, 2009
Hit and Run Thanksgiving
It happens every holiday: Thanksgiving, Christmas, Easter. . .
My Mom or I slave in the kitchen and then people arrive, usually late. They grab a plate, eat, and within two hours tops, they are gone. The majority of the clean-up is left behind. My sister and her boyfriend have to hit both families and my sister's boyfriend was also on call and forgot his digital password thing at home. They were there for an hour. My grandparents never make it to dessert. My Pop-Pop doesn't like to drive in the dark and he doesn't like to go to the bathroom at other people's houses. Sometimes, if they come to my kids' birthday parties, they ask me for a piece of cake before the girls even blow out the candles. I started making cupcakes for that very reason.
Yesterday was absolute insanity. Dinner was supposed to be at 2 p.m. Because Mr. BBM and I were, once again, in IKEA-putting-something-together-yet-again hell, we didn't arrive until 1:30. We thought we would be last but we were first. Next, my grandparents arrived. An hour later, my sister and her boyfriend walked in.
My sister started making some brown butter sage sauce for lobster ravioli she brought and splattered stuff all over my Mom's stove. My Mom is like a absolute perfectionist when it comes to her stove. When I lived there, she didn't even want me to clean it. It is probably the cleanest surface in the entire house. I could tell she was stressed.
Then my sister's boyfriend started making horrible noises. Apparently he has serious sinus congestion and I'm not quite sure he knows how to blow his nose. I volunteered to sit in the kitchen with the girls to eat. I didn't think my stomach could take listening to someone snort and eat their own mucus. Little did I know that he would come running out to the bathroom, right off the kitchen, only to make horrible barfing noises in there. My Mom and I just looked at each other with horror. She was also at the kids table. I asked her to please pass the wine. We both refilled our glasses.
By 4 p.m. my Mom was cutting desserts "to go" for people and they were out the door; my sister forgot her cake on the table so Lil C ate it.
I helped my Mom clean up the plates and the kitchen. She still hadn't even eaten her salad.
I think that when I host Christmas this year, I'm going to tell people to come in the morning and refuse to feed them until 7 p.m. Christmas is even worse. It's like a tornado hit my family room with gift wrap and ribbon everywhere. It's exhausting.
So last night, we stayed at my Mom's house until almost midnight. We played games, picked on my Dad, as is the status quo at any holiday, and we ended up having a great time despite the flurry that was from 2-4 p.m.
When I was a little girl, the actual holiday days seemed to go so slowly. I have such good memories of them. I hope that when my girls grow up, they don't remember the holidays as the hit and run they have become.
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