It is Tuesday, right? The day in the blog world known for randomness, eh?
Last weekend was an amazing weekend. Running (mostly) the half marathon is something that has changed me (sorry to sound superficial). A year ago, I couldn’t run for two three five minutes. When I signed up to the Disney Princess Half Marathon, I didn’t realize how much work and commitment I’d have to put into making that goal a reality.
But I did it!
Plus, I got to meet some amazing people. I’m already planning to sign up for next year’s run.
The morning of the race, I got out of bed before the alarm went rang out. I hadn’t slept much and my stomach was in knots.
Nerves? Why now? I wasn’t aiming to compete against any hard core athletes. I just wanted to finish the 13.1 miles in a somewhat decent time.
I tried to eat breakfast but it just wouldn’t go down. So, I got dressed and went on down to the lobby to meet Krystyn and get on the bus to the line up. It took 20 minutes to find my friend, Page (which is a real miracle as we had no cell phones and it was crowded).
It was COLD. The number of people were incomprehensible. There were thousands and thousands of women there. Thousands willing to get up at two something to go stand in the cold so they could run 13.1 miles.
My muscles began to tense and ache while standing in the cold. Still, the excitement warmed my heart. Finally, the last corral was walked to the start line and we were off… running and cheering each other on.
All in all, things went well during the run. Except that my back and side began hurting. And I started getting winded.
“Obviously, I need to focus on more hills in my training,” I thought. Little did I know.
The entertainment was top-notch and inspired me to keep plugging along though I think someone was out to do us in with those awful gel packets because you can’t spit that crap out!
I was never so excited to see a finish line in my life!
My husband and I spent the day with Page and her husband in Epcot. You could say we ate and drank our way around the world.
By the end of the night, I was hacking and barking the most awful cough. In a fevered haze, I knew I was going down with a real kicker.
Three doctor visits and 9 medicines later, I am happy to announce I’M ALIVE (even if I still have a little bit of a barky cough)!
In a few more days, I’ll be ready to lace up those running shoes, again. For so long, I’ve been trying to feel like a runner. I think I’m almost there.
I work in an elementary school. It is what I do for giggles and craps. And there are many, many lessons to be learned each day.
For the record, they didn’t teach any of this when I was in college.
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We (and by we, I mean me) finally finished filling out all the FAFSA and financial aid paperwork and now I’m a little discouraged. If all of these *smart* people at these big universities need me to repeat myself and fax copies of information they already have on file, why should I trust them to educate my child?
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My first half marathon is in 5 days! I’m so excited I could pee myself! Here is a picture of the design that is being painted on my t-shirt.
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My parents are going to Disney for my half marathon and for some reason, that just cracks me up. When I was on the basketball team in 8th grade, my mother didn’t go to any of the games. Though she would have seen that I had mad bench warming skills.
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I am attempting to take a picture every day for 365 days. So far, there are too many that are a half-a$$ed attempts so good. You can see my progress here.
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I can’t wait to get to school today so I can hear about the kid with the snake bite. He was bitten on Sunday but didn’t tell his parents. Once he got to school, he stopped by the office to have the school nurse take a look. She freaked calmly called his parents to take him to the doctor ASAP! More on that developing story later.
Happy Tuesday!
Mom: “I’ve ordered something for you and Mr. Strong. You are going to LOVE it.”
Me: “Cool. What is it?”
Mom: “It’s a magic bullet.” OMG! Why would she do this? We barely even talked about the birds and the bees when I was growing up… It was more comfortable to ask my friend’s mother to help me buy the monthly necessities.
Me: “Uh… Mom? Why?” What do I say? This is so embarrassing!
Mom: “Because I knew you’d love it. And it has all kinds of attachments.” Holy carp! I can’t stand the visual of my puritanical mother shopping in one of *those* stores…and attachments?! What the heck?
Me: “I’m not sure we need one.” Really, I can’t accept a gift like this from my MOTHER.
Mom: “Your step-dad loves when I get this out because he knows he is getting a treat.” Agh! Lalalalalalalalala…
A couple of days later, the mailman brought my new surprise.
For some strange reason, I blush every time I make a smoothie.
Funny how a funeral can make you think of your own mortality. Though I was a little jealous of the guy in the casket because he got the only warm spot at this graveside funeral. And he didn’t have to smile and nod as the preacher played a little number on the harmonica.
There are a few things I’d like to happen when I die. First, I’d like for someone to just throw away everything in my underwear drawer. There is nothing in there that needs to be saved. In my dreams, my funeral would involve a huge toilet bowl so that I could be flushed to that great river in the sky. All the fish I’ve flushed over the years have made that journey look like a day at the park. The water park, to be exact.
Since I don’t trust my children to find the right toilet (and it would be embarrassing if my hips got stuck on that final bend before heading out to sea), I’m probably just going to have to settle for a lively cremation. That way, I won’t have to worry about what clothes the family picks out for me after my demise. This is a good thing since the vast majority of my family looks like rejects from the lost files of “What Not to Wear.”
Then, at the ceremony, someone could play a little jingle on the harmonica right before the big flush.
I’m not planning on pushing up daisies any time soon. And I’m not trying to make fun of death (or maybe I am… but not in a rude way… but in that way that says, “I’m not afraid of you, Grim Reaper!”… except I really am a little afraid of him because not being able to see his face creeps me out). I am merely writing down some of the random thoughts that played through my sick twisted mind at the funeral for an older gentleman earlier today. Seriously, I hope that when I do die (a LONG time from now is my plan) that people will take the time to remember the good times and to laugh. That would be the biggest honor.
screwed up and moved into administration, I used to teach middle school children with behavior disorders. This experience gave me a lot of tools to use when dealing with adults. Regardless of the oxymoron (because aren’t all middle schoolers behavior disordered to a certain degree?), there were some great stories that came from those years in the classroom.
Charlie (not his real name, dooh!) was a beautiful boy with blond hair and blue eyes and the mouth of a sailor. His mouth got him in trouble, outside my classroom, on a regular basis though, truly, I agreed with most of what he had to say. There were many failed attempts to teach him to other ways to express his ideas. He just needed to cuss.
In a moment of desperation, I asked him to write his feelings down in a notebook when feeling his rage was working up to a blaspheme-fest, then tear up the page because if he still had evidence of potty mouth, there were still too many teachers ready to take him out back and shoot him.
One day, as I was conferencing with a parent about their child’s progress, Charlie came charging into the classroom slamming the door into it’s frame. The parents had a look of fear on their face. I tried to ignore Charlie and carry on with the meeting.
Charlie ran to his desk and grabbed his *special* notebook. I tried not to smile and continued talking with the parents. Their furtive glances over their shoulder at the mad boy frantically scribbling in his notebook made it even harder for me not to laugh. I redirected the parents back to their son and our concerns.
Suddenly, Charlie ripped out several pages from his notebook and began shredding them over the trash can, then ran right back out of the room.
I finished the conference with a huge smile on my face.
I never knew what made him so mad (and I really didn’t care as it was usually something minor). At least on that day, Charlie was a success.
Clumps of raw emotion
Stories that can’t be told
Mind numbing self-preservation
Calls to my husband,“Just cheer me up. I can’t talk about what is going on today.”
Dreams… expectations… disappointments
Trying to understand the real message screaming to be heard between the lines
Meetings with children services
.
.
.
I wish I could take them home.
With my assistant principal out for three days, I’ve run the ship alone. With so many events crammed into each day, my response to Mr. Strong’s question of what happened today has been a succinct “nothing.”
Actually, there are approximately 42 stories for me to tell you since we last spoke though I’m still grappling with finding a humorous view. At least a lice outbreak is funny, right? But where is the humor when a parent hurts a child and DFACS removes children from the home. And I’m not laughing at all at the irate parent who secretly recorded a meeting we had and is now threatening to sue because we are “picking” on her child. Though I probably should be laughing at the parent who won’t work on sight words with her child but will stop and spend time to write a scathing email to me about the kids not getting outside recess one day when the playground was still super muddy from all the rain.
The good news is that home is sane calm 
Maybe it is the weather front which brought in the warmer weather. Maybe it is a conspiracy. Maybe it is an issue with alien possession.
Whatever it is, here are a few snippets of conversations from the past couple of days.
To a student: “I’m sorry you were mad at the lunchroom monitor. That doesn’t give you a reason to raise your fists to your teacher when you got back to class.” (And no need to keep telling me how much you hate school. We got the message down pat from the first day you arrived. I just wish I could help you with all your anger.)
To a parent: “As a matter of fact, you are right. I do want you to leave. This meeting is obviously not working to resolve anything so we’ll just see you next week when you can bring your child back to school.” (While meeting with an irate parent who doesn’t see a problem with children showing disrespect to others… and I have no idea where the child learned this behavior…but the child will get to hang with Mama Attitude for a couple of days now.)
To a student: “So, do you like sitting in poopy pants?” (After the child got mad at his teacher [again!] and announced he was going to crap himself – and he did… which makes me wonder how he can crap at will… and reminds me to be thankful we only have 78 more days with the willful crapper.)
To a parent: “Well, hello to you and Brown Betty!” (Brown Betty is a brown belt who has magical powers in fixing attitudes.)
To a student: “It is never okay to tell a girl you want to push your pee pee against her butt.” (Well…. one day it might be okay. But never in school. And this conversation is making me uncomfortable. Why, look! A bunny!)
To a parent: “I understand the traffic is bad today but please don’t yell at my teachers on duty. We don’t have any control over the traffic.” (Um… were you trying to go for Road Rage Poster Parent of the Year?)
Is it Friday yet?
As I’ve been training for an upcoming half marathon, I’ve actually started to enjoy my long run days. I like the feeling of running at a slow comfortable pace without worrying about time. Plus, I get to see my town in a different way than I do when cruising by in a car.
Along the way, I’ve learned some important lessons:
So, there. I really am getting ready for that Princess Marathon at Disney in March. Now I need some ideas for how to decorate my shirt for the big event. Any suggestions?
Pain and affliction fill the air
I feel helpless and undeserving
Why should I have these comforts
When others have none?
I’ll give. I’ll pray.
Will you do the same?
Unless you live under a rock, you've heard about the tragedy in Haiti. My heart breaks for the people there. Please consider giving in some way, shape or form. There are many agencies and churches out there who are collecting money and donations. Even my students are bringing in their change for us to donate to the Red Cross. You don't want to be showed up by elementary students, do you?
This is a Sunday 160. The Sunday 160 only uses 160 characters (including spaces). For more information, visit Monkey Man (a creative genius!).
After much anticipation and worry, the 
And I can count! Three plus three equals six! No need to question my credentials.
Still, I’m thankful I have my a job. And now, I’m officially broke.
We got a new student a couple of weeks ago. Mr. Smiley is adorable. And very busy. And incredibly below grade level. Yes, you can be below grade level in Kindergarten. Mr. Smiley smiles all. the. time. Even whilst crying in the sugar seat in my office after threatening to hit a girl on the butt.
I think I love him. And the teacher is now calling him my boy. Should I let my husband know?
Finally, the weather gods remembered that we live in the deep south and slowly thawed the freeze we’ve been under for the past three weeks. Morning duty will become enjoyable again. Though I still have my eye on you, Mrs. Pissed at the World. And you better never try to drive off while kids are still getting out of cars. Cuz I’m itching to ban you and your crappy attitude from the campus. Forever.
And while morning car duty is fun, it doesn’t hold a candle to afternoon car duty. Buh bye! Have a great long weekend! I am so out of here!
Way back before I became an administrator, I was a teacher of middle school students with behavior disorders. 
The green-eyed monster
Silently spews his venom
Tears through friendship
Destroys the family tie
Without it, there would be no change
With it, there will be no peace
I tried the 160 character challenge. For more info go see Monkey Man.
There is this teacher I know who has two little girls with blonde hair and blue eyes. She and her husband loved these two little girls and have raised them well. Still, this teacher knew something was missing.
This teacher and her husband talked with each other and both agreed they wanted to do something to help a child in need.
This teacher dreamed of adopting a little boy with blond hair and blue eyes that would look a lot like her little girls.
One day, a quiet, little girl with brown hair and brown eyes entered her classroom. This little girl lived in a foster home, as she had most of her life, since her mother had abandoned her. Although she had dreamed of a blond haired, blue-eyed boy, this teacher fell in love with this needy, little brown haired girl with brown eyes.
This teacher went home that night and talked with her husband. They both agreed that they’d ask the powers that be if they could adopt this quiet, little girl with brown hair and brown eyes.
This teacher and her husband met with the powers that be and agreed to take parenting classes and to add another bedroom to their house so that they might be considered as possible parents for this brown haired girl with brown eyes.
Time passed. The classes were taken. A new bedroom was added. This brown haired girl with brown eyes was allowed to visit this teacher and her husband. The little girls with blonde hair and blue eyes loved this little girl with brown hair and brown eyes. They wanted her to be their little sister.
Finally, just before the holidays, this little girl with brown hair and brown eyes moved into this teacher’s house. This teacher and her husband waited to hear when the adoption would be finalized for this little girl with brown hair and brown eyes for they loved her very much.
Right after the New Year, a father with brown hair and brown eyes decided he wanted custody of his this little girl with brown hair and brown eyes. Although this biological father had never raised this little girl with brown hair and brown eyes, he now wanted a chance.
There is this teacher I know who is broken hearted.
I had a message this morning from an irate parent.
“My son is on his way back from his father, the bastard, who didn’t get him home on time so he won’t be at school today. Since it isn’t my fault that his father was being a jerk, I am demanding this absence be excused. And if you don’t excuse it, I will take it over your head because this. is. not. my. fault. And if you send me another letter about my son’s absences and tardies, I will report you. DO YOU UNDERSTAND?”
Apparently, since my voice mail didn’t respond to her question, she went ahead and called the superintendent’s office.
Her new letter about her son’s unexcused absence is already in the mail.
Seriously, I try not to laugh out loud when 
and teachers use words that aren’t really words. At least not yet. And by not yet, I mean they aren’t currently listed in the God of Dictionaries – the Merriam-Webster (I could be wrong on this one since I’m not super vigilant about attending services).
Relax. I’m not a language slob. Especially since *I*, the hearing impaired one, mispronounces words regularly. I do happen to have mad phonics skills but we aren’t here to discuss those outlaw words that defy the phonics police.
Once when meeting with a parent about their child’s behavior, the father sat up and loudly said, “We’ve done every thing we know to do. We’ve taken things away from her. We’ve spanked her. Why we even grounded her and the groundation didn’t work.”
The groundation.
Personally, I think it is a word that makes good sense. I just wish I saw it in the vocabulary of more parents these days.
**Update - Hilariously, I didn't mean to write slob instead of snob. Nor did I intend to use the wrong verb tense. I blame the Nyquil.
Spanish moss dangles
From history’s arms
Hidden alligators
With weary wisdom laden eyes
Resurrection ferns
Bring the promise of change
While this world stays the same
I tried the 160 character challenge. For more info go see Monkey Man.
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