Directionality

Directionality is a funny thing. For one it has a couple of definitions that come to mind. One deals with the idea of focusing the direction of your life, your business, and/or your projects (not Websters definition so don't hold me accountable for getting it wrong). This type of directionality deals with setting goals. For the *experts* out there, we should all figure out the direction we want life to take, set goals, and work to meet those goals. For many, that may be exactly what needs to happen otherwise they might waste their life away on the sofa watching VH-1 reality tv shows. In my opinion, it is difficult to imagine anyone being able to be an expert of some one's life besides their own but that is going into deep, uncharted territory and we are backing the hell out. Besides, I'm not a goal setter which probably explains how I ended up in administration in the first place.

The other definition of directionality (in my mind) has to do with locating sound. And for the record, I can NOT locate the source of sound which I am sure helps my image of being a complete doofus since there are multiple microphones on each of my hearing aids. I now spin like a record when ever I hear any noises. No wonder I'm always dizzy. People would be better off just waving their arms wildly if they need to get my attention.

But I'm not hear here to talk about my hearing issues because really it is only an issue for the person who wants to be heard as I'm quite content with the voices in my hear that I hear so clearly.

Its about my blog. When I first started blogging, I had no sense of direction. Basically, the G-P-S was turned off and we were navigating by the A-S-S (that would be me). My very first blog post was rather lame and I expected no fanfare for the ridiculousness that I was sending out into the blogosphere. But I got a comment from Vodka Mom. And she became a follower.

She probably has no idea what she did for my blog-o-confidence that day.

And now, something has happened. And in my imagination, it is something that is a result of a parent or teacher complaint to administration (damn administrators!).

Which scares me. And I've stepped away from the computer for the past few days to ponder the pros and cons, the reasons to oppose and the reasons to support, the should I's or should I nots. Basically, is it worth it?

I've tried to keep my "real girl" identity a secret. I've changed names of the guilty innocent to protect them. And I haven't even told the juicy stories involving ridiculous law suits because if you don't think there are people out there who want a free ride, then I have a spot of the ocean I need to sell you.

While writing this blog, I've found a voice I didn't know I had. And I've found friends I never dreamed I'd have. My husband and I are closer and talk about more and more things (he is, by the way, my biggest commentor on this blog - he just rarely puts it in writing). I've come to grips with some emotions regarding my family. For whatever reason, it is easier to be honest in this forum than in my reality.

While I've yet to become a goal setter as it just isn't my nature and why the hell fight nature, I've made the decision to forge on. Besides, Jane at Gaston Studios offered me a spare bedroom in her house and Michel offered to hide me in Sudan, if ever I need. Without a doubt, I'm sure Smart Mouth Broad and her Harley Man would drive that Harley up to beat up rescue me from any crazy parents. And several of my favorite teachers (I wish I had you guys on my staff) are always ready to offer up encouragement and support. Thanks Only a Movie, Pseudononymous High School Teacher, Amy, Jason, and Hit 40. You often validate my feelings. And then there are my friends who cook! Jan and Follow that Dog, you remind me to be thankful for being married to a chef! The Comedy Goddess knows my neck of the woods (and there are a lot of woods down here) and that just makes her even funnier to me! Oh, and Kulio is teaching me to be a bit greener (and I do appreciate that!). And I should be supporting Braja while she is recovering but she is already out supporting others. She is just tough like that. And the list goes on and on.

How could I give up on friends like that?

If you try hard enough, you can always find the silver lining

Sometimes people who work in education become very focused on the *bad* things that happen. Their reaction to the bad is to become more stressed. If only they'd learn to focus on the positives.

For instance, no need to get overwhelmed when a detective comes to the school to talk to a student about an incident that took place in the neighborhood. If you'd just look on the bright side, you'd realize the thug kid is smarter than you thought because he didn't get caught is innocent!

And when a parent comes to tour the school with their upcoming Kindergarten student, don't worry when the potential student freaks out is puzzled by the girth of the pregnant teacher walking down the hall. What a great opportunity for a little biology lesson because the child guessed closer than the mother's explanation by guessing that the baby would come out of the lady's butt.

And if a student is sent to your office BEFORE the big state test because his mother says he is faking being sick and you tell him that he has to show us the chunks before we will indeed send his butt home, it is a great opportunity to discuss the importance of being honest. That child will appreciate the valuable lesson he has learned especially when he proves his mother wrong by indeed blowing chunks all over the room, including good coverage of the test.

As for me, all the events of this week have been appreciated over a box glass of wine. Which will help me get the three or four sleep I so desperately need.

Just another typical first day of testing

If they'd make me the queen of the education world, I'd do away with high stakes testing in elementary school. Seriously, haven't any of the big wigs ever read the book Leo the Late Bloomer? I'm a firm believer in the fact that some kids just have their jello moment later than others although I have met some adults who still haven't gelled in their ability to think.

Regardless of my opinions, the tests are designed to judge measure the progress of the teachers students so opinions with the help of the negative comments from the local rag can be formed about the dedication of the teachers in a school.

Yesterday was the first day of *the* test. And it was a typical first day of testing kind of day with enough stress to make one reconsider becoming a fry girl.

We got to school and the power was out probably due to some stressed out teacher running into a utility pole to dull the pain. Since the testing manual doesn't advise us to give the test in the dark, we delayed the test until the power was restored.

We had three kids throwing up. Awards went to two of the teachers who were able to get their barfing boys to a trash can. The third teacher got to laugh at us while we transferred answers from the soiled test to a fresh copy which worked better than a diet pill to kill my appetite for lunch.

One child in the fourth grade got so nervous, she wet her pants. Thankfully, the test remained on high ground.

Despite my personal phone calls begging pleading to remind parents to give their child the medicine the doctor prescribed, we had four who came to school completely unmedicated. One of the four children ate part of the answer sheet, one never finished the test, and one refused to take the test. This used to scare me, but now I take my medicine daily so I can handle the stress. It just is what it is. Some things are beyond my control.

Thank goodness we sent home a letter and made a school-wide phone call to all the parents. Otherwise, we might have had more than the eleven students who showed up at school tardy and had to be tested in the afternoon.

Once the testing was over, I visited a few classrooms so I could find something to laugh about. After visiting a few rooms where the kids were dull and quiet after having all their energy and confidence zapped from them, I headed for the kindergarten hallway. In one kindergarten room, the class was singing B-I-N-G-O. Being one who loves a good song, I joined in with class. That is, until I noticed the little girl next to me was signing a different song. And I like her version even better! "B-I-embryo and bean-jo was his name, oh!"

Thank God we aren't testing the kindergartners yet!

Ladies, Please Warn Your Husbands (or Boyfriends)!

Today, Mrs. Wears PJs to School went to her daughter's classroom before checking her out of school. While there, this is the conversation that ensued.

Mrs. Wears PJs to School (with a thick, thick southern accent): "I only have seventy-five cents on me and I'm not sure that I have enough gas to get me home."

Mrs. Sweet Kindergarten Teacher: "Well, I'll give you some money. Here. I have $6 on me." (Note to self: $6! It is just past the middle of the month. Mrs. Sweet Kindergarten Teacher must be married to someone with money if she still has $6 to her name.)

Mrs. Wears PJs to School: "Aww. Thanks. I think I only need $2. I'll pay you back when I can. Well, I guess you heard about my husband."

Mrs. Sweet Kindergarten Teacher: "I didn't hear about your husband. Is he okay?"

Mrs. Wears PJs to School: "Well, no. He has a penile fracture." (What the hell!? How do you fracture the penis? Wait. Don't answer that question.) {She pronounced penile "peee-niiiile." Try it out for the effect.}

Mrs. Sweet Kindergarten Teacher (suddenly blushing and becoming very interested in her clipboard): "Oh. That must be hard." (I swear. Of all the things to come out of her mouth.)

Mrs. Wears PJs to School: "Yup! He hit it on my pelvis bone. You should tell your husband about this. My husband says it really hurts." (Ewwww! I did NOT need the visual. This is not a ummmm... good looking woman.)

Mrs. Sweet Kindergarten Teacher (trying desperately to disappear): "I hope everything is okay. Here is your daughter's backpack."

Mrs. Wears PJs to School: "You know, my husband is going to be soooo embarrassed. He hates when I borrow money from any body." (OMG! So is that what embarrasses him? And does he know you have verbal diarrhea?)


That, ladies and gentlemen, just may be the story of the year!

It is wrong to steal, right?

Earlier this week, a teacher came to me concerned about some of her classroom decorations that had gone missing. She wanted me to interrogate the class until someone broke down and confessed and began to beg to be taken out back and have their hands cut off because how could anyone steal when we all know it is so wrong to find the culprit. While I don't mind being the bad guy, I do think it is important for teachers to handle to more minor aspects of classroom discipline or otherwise I'd only be dealing with discipline issues and what fun is that?. Besides, as much as I've wanted a Matlock moment where the guilty party suddenly begins spewing truths, it has yet to happen.

The teacher went back to the classroom and talked with the students. Soon a name emerged. She called the student's mother and confirmed the child indeed had stolen a ridiculous coconut pirate head from her. This satisfied the teacher because justice had been served but apparently we all need to pause for a moment of silence for the temporary loss of this student's basic freedoms.

A day passes and all is well. That is, until a teacher came to tell on this teacher. I remember being surprised that middle school students still tattled but they don't hold a candle to the tattling that the adults can do. Apparently, this teacher (who really is a good teacher) had made a bunch of posters on the poster maker for her church which totally made me feel liking running through the halls screaming because I've been reminding them all year to only make posters for educational purposes because the damn paper and ink cost a freakin fortune.

Again, I went to counsel talk with the teacher. And yes, she had made some posters. According to her, "Maybe seven. No, make that about ten," posters. In full color. With a background and all. In fact, she had to change out the ink cartridge and reprint a poster when the ink ran out midway.

When I reminded her of what should have been freaking obvious stealing was wrong, she cocked her head in that confused puppy dog look and said, "But it was free."

After my head exploded, I calmly smiled while biting my tongue to the bleeding stage and reminded her that the poster paper and ink were NOT free since the poster maker fairy no longer brought presents especially now that the economy was in the toilet.

And I'm sure her student had the same idea. It was free.

In her defense, she is now on poster maker restriction going to pay a set amount to make this situation right. Lesson learned. Even if I didn't know there was a lesson to be taught there.

On a different note, one of my teachers begged me to follow her home because a bird had built a nest in the wreath on her front door. There were baby birds inside the tiny wreath. Yes! Spring is here!

Respecting the Smart Arsey-ness

Thankfully, the majority of my teachers respect a bit of smart arsey-ness. And they'd probably have to while working with me. That or beg to transfer to another school and that has happened much to my delight.

Yesterday, one of the Kindergarten teachers was playing a song and being silly with the kids during a rhythm and movement lesson. When she tried to show the students how to do the swim which is funny because have you ever seen how kindergarten students move? We love to have them skip just so we can get something to giggle about.. One student stomped his foot and crossed his arms. While the students were attempting to do some semblance of the swim (really, that move was quite butchered), the teacher went to Mr. Pouty to see what his issue was.

He whined, "I can't do this swim thing unless I have on my bathing suit."

And the teacher just looked at me with a BIG smile and said, "God, I love this kid!"

And this, this is what makes kindergarten so much fun!

Waiting for the other shoe to fall

From the moment you were born, I adored you. Or so the story goes since I was just 14 months old and way, way too young to have a memory yet. There are dozens of pictures of me holding you, kissing you, and just staring at you in awe. You were a damn cute kid.

We weren't like most sisters. There were very few fights. Two, to be exact. And both of them ended quickly (and with no lasting injuries). I just don't know what to do now that we hardly talk.

It hurts me to know my boys hear the disdain you have for me (and our mother) in your voice. Did I do something to hurt you? Or has life just been disappointing?

We planned to marry and live next door to each other. Our kids were going to be the same age. And we were going to own a chocolate store together.

Life can be full of unexpected events. The one I was least prepared for was losing you. Your friendship. You.

When you were little, people were always drawn to you. You had a love for life, a light in your eye, a laugh that was contagious.

Where did it go?

When your marriage was falling apart, I tried to be there for you. Having been through that hurt - that heart hurt - I wanted you to know you would come out better. And stronger. It was obvious you didn't want me there much. And when you remarried, we all wanted to support you. To celebrate. But we weren't allowed. So, we wished you well from our dark corner of your life. Did you know? Could you feel our wishes for you?

I miss being included in your world. And it feels like you are slipping farther and farther away.


I hope you know. I'd walk to the ends of the earth and back again to make everything okay with us again.





-------------------------------------------------------------------
This Tuesday Tribute is in honor of my sister. May life be all she dreamed it would be. Even if it doesn't include me.



A Jay and Deb Production.