Several Comedies of Error

This post originally appeared in my now defunct "Mom's View" blog. It originally appeared on May 24, 2012.  Oh, the woes of a substitute teacher!  Those were the days!

  
I've been subbing a lot the past few weeks.  Jobs have been plentiful... and the motivation that says "You won't get a paycheck for June, July, or August" has kept me moving pretty quickly on taking up the jobs.  Today is a rare day off, so I thought I would share my comedy of errors over the last few weeks.

I normally only substitute in K-3rd grade, because that is my area of certification, and it is the age group I am best at teaching.  Unfortunately, several of the jobs I took over the past couple of weeks were "supplementary", which is the grab bag of the substitute world.  I didn't know what I was getting into until I walked in the door of the building that morning.  Surprise!!

I spent one particularly memorable afternoon in 5th grade.  The teacher had left us with a DVD to watch, and had trained the kids how to turn it on and get it to go.  Her final words to me before she left "You don't touch anything.  Only she does." (pointing to a child in the class)  Okie Dokie!  We finished up the lessons she had left, and then we attempted to start the movie.  Nothing happened.  The girl tried again, and nothing happened.  The kids became very, very helpful.  (overly helpful) Yet still, nothing happened.  I called down to the main office, and they sent an Assistant Principal down to "show us" how to fix it.  He ended up calling the media specialist, who then ended up calling the technology guy from the county who was in the building working on the network. So, while all of the great minds were working on getting the DVD to run, what were the kids doing?  We started playing "Simon Says".  Twenty minutes later, the crew of four adults looked at me and said "It's not working."  (Insert evil teacher/mom glare here.)  I asked, "so what do I do?"  "Oh, said the AP, you follow the plans she left you."  I handed him the plans that said in clear letters: "Watch movie.  The kids know how to turn it on.  Dismissal begins at 3:15".  Thank heavens, the teacher next door poked her head around the corner at that moment and said "We're just getting ready to start the movie.  Why don't you bring them in here?" 

I spent one day with an assistant teacher who couldn't remember my last name.  She kept calling me Mrs. Jones, no matter how many times I corrected her.  Finally, I gave up and let her call me Mrs. Jones for the rest of the day.  I found out yesterday that she calls every sub in her room Mrs. Jones. 

I was reading a book aloud to a group of students, sitting in the rocking chair when *CRASH* the entire rocking chair broke apart underneath me!  There I was, one shocked woman, sitting amidst the remains of a rocking chair!  (Once I finally caught my breath and figured out how I ended up on the floor, we called the story finished and went outside for a quick extra recess.)

On my way out of the building yesterday, I was accosted by a teacher that I subbed for last week.
"Did you hear the news?"  she asked.  "No, what?"  I replied.
"Seven kids in my class have lice.  They found them the day after you subbed for me.  You need to get checked before you leave today."

What a wonderful, wonderful couple of weeks it's been!

Palm Sunday

Four years ago, I was teaching 7th Grade Sunday School with a very good friend.  We enjoyed teaching together no end, and we really loved what we were doing.  This particular year, the Education Director told us as we arrived that the kids would be reenacting Jesus' triumphal entry into Jerusalem.  The younger kids would line the hallway with palm branches, and lay cloaks on the floor.  Our class was to put a kid on a donkey and roll him down the hall.  The donkey turned out to be a wooden cut out of a donkey, held onto a stack of building blocks piled on top of a Radio Flyer wagon. Everything was held together with Bungee Cords.

Looking at the precarious pile of stuff,  my friend and I looked at each other and muttered "What could go wrong?"

The appointed time arrived.  We had a volunteer to ride on the donkey cart - and the rest of the class volunteered to pull/push him down the hallway.  Let's call the volunteer on the cart "Andy".

Andy perched on top of the blocks high atop the wagon,  and the kids began pulling and pushing him down the hallway.  The little kids enthusiastically waved their palm branches.

And then, the wagon hit the first bump as it went over the first of the cloaks laid on the ground.  The blocks began to shift and Andy stopped smiling.

Every time they hit a bump, the blocks shifted a little bit more, the little kids cheered a little bit louder, Andy held on a little tighter, and his friends moved a little bit faster.

By the time they reached the end of the hall, the little kids were screaming in delight, and Andy was holding on for dear life. 

As the kids stopped, the sound of our laughter resonated through the hallways, and Andy rolled off of the donkey cart, onto the floor and shouted "Land!  Sweet Land!" as he hugged the ground.

Tales from the Classroom

Enjoy this repost from April 12, 2014.  I swear, this is a true story.  Enjoy!

Like every 6th grader in our county, my daughter went to Outdoor School in the fall.  Outdoor School is run at our county nature center.  The kids spend a week in residence there, learning about nature, our environment, the ecosystem, and what is so unique about the area in which we live.

The kids both love and hate outdoor school.  I've never been sure how the teachers feel about it.  On the one hand, they don't have to plan lessons for an entire week, and someone else is in charge.  On the other hand, they are sleeping in the teacher's quarters for the entire week, on uncomfortable mattresses, sharing bunk rooms with the teachers that they work with.  (Separated my men and women, of course.)

There was one particular teacher in our middle school who will forever be stuck in my mind.  Do you remember Mrs. Frizzle of the Magic School Bus books?  This teacher looked like a 50 something Mrs. Frizzle.  Stout figure, Lucy Ricardo's red hair, that frizzed out all over her head.  She always wore crazy outfits, and her shoes... OMG, her shoes.... Always stilettos, and never the same shoe twice.  They were something to see.  For convenience's sake, I'm just going to call her Ms. Frizz from here on out.

My daughter went to Outdoor School in the fall.  It was perfect weather.  Jeans and a sweatshirt.  The kids didn't have to worry about snow, and they didn't have to worry about frostbite.  They could take the nature hikes and get wet without worry.

So, Ms. Frizz was chaperoning a group as they began a hike down a nature path.  Ms. Frizz was wearing her stilettos, jeans, and was mincing her way down the path, behind the PE teacher.  A large tree was across the path, and the PE teacher called out a warning to the kids that the tree was down, and he stopped to make sure the kids stepped over it without a problem.

Ms. Frizz was in a world of her own.  She just kept walking, paying no attention to the world around her until *smack* she walked straight into the fallen tree and did a face plant, sprawled awkwardly over the tree trunk.

Laying face down in the dirt, the kids all rushed over to her and began asking, Ms. Frizz!  Are you okay?  Are you dead?

"Leave me here.  Go on without me.  Enjoy your day."  She said, still laying face down in the dirt.

Shaking his head and muttering things not quite fit to print, the PE teacher picked her up and got her on her feet. 

"Are you good to go?"  he asked.

"No" she said, "The ground is all muddy.  I can't go on. My heels keep sinking in the mud.  I'll just stay here until the ground dries."

My daughter said that at this point, the PE teacher's mouth hardened into a straight line.  He looked at the kids, and he looked back at the teacher.  At this point, they were over a mile from the camp if they went forward, and a mile away if they went back.  He is a good man, though.  He looked at the kids, and then, he scooped the Ms. Frizz up and carried her all the way back to the camp.

You know, Ms. Frizz is retired now.  At her retirement party, this story was mentioned over and over again.  She is never going to live this story down.

I am most impressed with the PE teacher.  He managed to carry a teacher - an adult, no less- over a mile back to the cabins without complaining.  The kids all learned a very important lesson that day - about taking care of each other - about being gallant, and caring for other people - about doing the right thing, without complaining that it's uncomfortable. 

Ms. Frizz also taught them something, too - sometimes you do a face plant in the middle of a situation, and you need other people to help pull you up and get you on your feet again.

On the days when the kids are having a rough day, and they see that Ms. Frizz is subbing in the high school, they all smile and remember the day she was laying in the dirt, muttering "Just leave me here, go on without me,"  they all smile thinking about that bright autumn day.

(Seriously, who wears stilletos on a nature hike through the woods?)

Love you Ms. Frizz!  You are an awesome teacher!

I can't believe I'm doing this! (A true tale)

25 years ago, when husband and I were first married, we lived in an apartment in the DC suburbs.  The building had regrettably thin floors, walls, and ceilings, and we lived in the apartment beneath a man who was the worlds greatest player.  He also had the world's noisiest bed springs.

Every Friday and Saturday night, around 2:30 in the morning, we would be awoken by the musical creaking and unmusical grunting of the man upstairs and his latest conquest.  Most Sunday mornings, we would come home from church to find some woman doing the walk of shame down the steps from the building.

One particularly memorable night, we were awoken by the sound of hysterical laughter intermingled with the squeaking of the bed springs.  The conversation we overheard follows:

*squeak, squeak, squeak, laugh, laugh, laugh*

I can't believe I'm doing this!

You have to relax, calm down!

*squeak, squeak, squeak, laugh, laugh, laugh*

Where am I again, L---?

Yes...

*squeak, squeak, squeak, laugh, laugh, laugh*

L-----?  hahahaha I can't believe I'm doing this.  I can't believe I'm doing this with you.

*squeak, squeak, squeak, laugh, laugh, snort*

I mean, you're so ugly...

THUD.... and then silence, as we heard the heavy foot steps walk across the room.


That was seriously cruel, but then again, when you're picking up drunk chicks at the bar every weekend just before closing time, I don't think you're going to find any kind of positive affirmation.
 (There is a lesson to be learned here.  Let all who hear it, learn it.)

Interview Madness

Have you ever gone for an interview where everything went wrong?  That happened to me earlier this week.

1) The interview was originally scheduled for Thursday afternoon.  Monday afternoon, I get a call asking me to change the interview to Tuesday.  They wanted me to come in during the morning - but I can't get off of work in the morning.  Long story short, we switched the interview to the afternoon.

2) I carefully dress at home, and leave for work.  It's wicked hot and humid, and I turn on the a/c in the van, only to find out that the air that we had fixed 2 weeks ago IS NOT WORKING.

3) Leaving work at noon, I realize I have a spot on my shirt.  My husband tells me now that it's not noticeable - but at the time, I panicked!!!  Add in a quick stop at Wal-Mart to pick up a clean white shirt.

4) Go to the nearest public library to change my shirt.  The bathroom by the front doors is broken.  Like some creeper, I had to go use the potties in the children's section.. Couldn't change and get out of there fast enough. 

5) Pull out the deep purple shirt I'm planning on wearing over the white shirt and realize it is deeply wrinkled and smells kind of funny.  Back to Wal-Mart to pick up some wrinkle release /deodorizing spray.

6) With all of the windows open, traveling 65 miles an hour down the highway, it is a balmy 85 hot and humid degrees in the car.  I look a mess.  My carefully coiffed hair looks like something even Medusa wouldn't claim.

7) Get lost twice on the way to the building.  It's so new it doesn't show up on my GPS.

8) Good news - the wrinkle release spray worked on my shirt.  Bad news - it's like 100* in the parking garage.  I find a library, and go inside and do my best with my hair.  I pull it up into barrettes.  I hate the look, but it's better than sweaty Medusa hair.  Due to the wonderful nature of the air conditioning in my car, my face is bright, bright red.  I sit at a table in the back corner of the library and fan myself with a periodical until 20 minutes before my interview begins.

9) Realize at the end of the interview that I forgot to bring my list of references with me.  Way to look professional, girl friend.  (You know, in case if the Medusa hair, bright pink face, and sweat stained shirt under a deep purple overshirt and the faint smell of sweat don't convey that professional look enough already.)

10) Finally leave the interview - it's close to 3:30 now, and I still haven't had lunch.  Find the Starbucks down the street library and have their most amazing Omega 3 Bistro Box - smoked salmon cream cheese, wheat free crackers, nut mix, endamame hummus and cucumber slices and have a veritable feast while enjoying their artificially cooled air.

I'm pretty sure that this interview was probably the WORST interview I've ever had.
You know, my current job isn't really all that bad....

Why You Should Put Things Away at the Store

So, I was at one of those big box retailers over this past week - I don't want to mention it by name, but they sell everything.  Clothes, food, etc.

You know how people roam around these stores, decide they don't want something, and then just leave it wherever they happen to be?  Their train of thought is along the lines of "They pay people to put that back.  Why should I inconvenience myself by putting this back where it belongs?  It's a long walk, and I am lazy." 

There was a family browsing through the clothing with their daughter and son.  The family was looking at clothes for the daughter, and the son had roamed out of sight. 

I heard the mother say "I feel bad.  It seems like we're always buying clothes for her, but never for him."

"I'll go with him and pick out a couple of shirts" the Dad said.  "Where did he go?"  I saw him roam around the display table and I heard him shout "What the h%ll are you doing?"

Everyone in the store came to a dead standstill and looked over...  the mother scurried over to her husband and started screaming "Oh my God, Oh my God". 

One of the sales associates ran over, and I hear the Dad yelling "Do I look happy?"

The kid had roamed over to the other side of the table, found a container of car wax, opened it, and proceeded to smear it all over himself.   No lie, the kid was blue.

Dad ran off to the bathroom with the son, while Mom tried to pull herself together.  The helpful sales associate helped the Mom, and radioed to a manager who went into the bathroom to help the Dad.

I've got to give a lot of credit to the retail store.  They rose to the occasion and helped that family.  They didn't charge the family for the car wax, and the managers pulled in paper towels and liquid dish soap to try and get the wax off of the kid.  Of course, if someone hadn't just left the damn wax wherever the heck they felt like...  (I'll stop.)

You know, there was a part of me that was thinking that the Dad should have taken the kid out to the car and just rubbed him all over the outside of the car....

Taking the Cats to the Vet

I took the cats to the vet today.  It was a traumatic experience for everyone involved.

The cats like to go outside early in the morning, so I took the precaution of locking each of them into a separate room overnight with a bowl of food, a bowl, of water, and a litterbox.  I was hoping to get a stool sample from each of them overnight.  I should have known better...

A half hour before it was time to go to the vet, I tracked down the animal carriers and went after Luna (the more agreeable one) and put her in her box.  No fights with that little girl, she's always ready for an adventure.  I scoped out her litterbox, but she had made absolutely no deposits over night.

I went after Tiger next.  One huge catfight later, I had two bloody gashes on my hand and a cat that had buried himself under the middle of the bed.  I finally dislodged him from the bed, only to turn around and find that Luna had let herself out of her carrier and was firmly lodged in Tiger's carrier.

Actually, this turned out to be a very good thing!  Once Tiger saw Luna in his carrier, he immediately lunged from my arms, and started squabbling with Luna, until she left the carrier and he could get in.

I locked his carrier and attempted to get Luna into hers.  No sooner did I shut her door than she began prizing open the weak edge at the top.  Desperate, I found a length of blue ribbon and tied her cage together so she couldn't open it again.

5 short minutes later, we were in the waiting room at the vet's office.

When we were called back, the tech decided to go with Luna first.  (Remember, she's the agreeable one.)  She purred through her initial exam, preened herself, and generally had a great time.  When the tech told Luna "OK, I'm done with you, I need to see Tiger next", Luna hopped right off of the table, walked over to one of the chairs, and assumed her sphinx pose while watching Tiger.

It took both of us to dislodge Tiger from the carrier.  We had to turn it upside down to get him out.  He hissed, he fussed, and he made snarly noises the entire time the tech looked at him.

Then came the fun part:  The vet came in!

Remember, Luna is still sitting on the chair, purring away and swishing her tail.  She was enjoying the spectacle!

The vet felt Tiger's abdomen.  Tiger growled.  She checked his teeth.  He hissed.  She gave him his shots.  Tiger made snarly noises at her.  The minute she finshed and said "OK Tiger, I'm done with you, you can go now" he jumped down off of the table and ran into his carrier.

The vet looked at Luna and said "OK Luna - you're next!"  (I swear I am not making this up!)  Luna hopped off of the chair and sauntered over to the table.  The vet picked her up and put her on the table, attempting to feel Luna's abdomen.  Luna immediately rolled over onto her back, squiremed around, and got her head under the vet's hand.  The vet tried to check Luna's teeth.  Luna immediately rolled over onto her back, squirmed around, and put her back under the vet's hand.  While the vet was trying to keep Luna still long enough to give her the shots, she asked me "Did you manage to get a stool sample from her?"

"No", I answered.  "She hasn't done anything at all in the last 12 hours.  I had her locked in a room overnight with the litter box, and she didn't even pee."

It's like that was the cue that cat had been waiting for.  With an insane gleam in her green eyes, she let loose at both ends, giving the vet both kinds of samples.  Luna hopped down off the table and hopped back into her box. 

We all stood there, too stunned to speak for a few minutes.

"Well", said the tech, "At least we have our samples!"

Those cats!  I guess we know who's really in charge!

This post originally appeared in my now defunct "Mom's View" blog.  I moved it to this blog at the request of my kids, who wanted to have all of the various posts that accompanied their high school years in one place.  I've matched the publication dates here to their original post date.  If you're reading these posts, I sincerely thank you for taking the time to go back through them all! 

Several Comedies of Error

I've been subbing a lot the past few weeks.  Jobs have been plentiful... and the motivation that says "You won't get a paycheck for June, July, or August" has kept me moving pretty quickly on taking up the jobs.  Today is a rare day off, so I thought I would share my comedy of errors over the last few weeks.

I normally only substitute in K-3rd grade, because that is my area of certification, and it is the age group I am best at teaching.  Unfortunately, several of the jobs I took over the past couple of weeks were "supplementary", which is the grab bag of the substitute world.  I didn't know what I was getting into until I walked in the door of the building that morning.  Surprise!!

I spent one particularly memorable afternoon in 5th grade.  The teacher had left us with a DVD to watch, and had trained the kids how to turn it on and get it to go.  Her final words to me before she left "You don't touch anything.  Only she does." (pointing to a child in the class)  Okie Dokie!  We finished up the lessons she had left, and then we attempted to start the movie.  Nothing happened.  The girl tried again, and nothing happened.  The kids became very, very helpful.  (overly helpful) Yet still, nothing happened.  I called down to the main office, and they sent an Assistant Principal down to "show us" how to fix it.  He ended up calling the media specialist, who then ended up calling the technology guy from the county who was in the building working on the network. So, while all of the great minds were working on getting the DVD to run, what were the kids doing?  We started playing "Simon Says".  Twenty minutes later, the crew of four adults looked at me and said "It's not working."  (Insert evil teacher/mom glare here.)  I asked, "so what do I do?"  "Oh, said the AP, you follow the plans she left you."  I handed him the plans that said in clear letters: "Watch movie.  The kids know how to turn it on.  Dismissal begins at 3:15".  Thank heavens, the teacher next door poked her head around the corner at that moment and said "We're just getting ready to start the movie.  Why don't you bring them in here?" 

I spent one day with an assistant teacher who couldn't remember my last name.  She kept calling me Mrs. Jones, no matter how many times I corrected her.  Finally, I gave up and let her call me Mrs. Jones for the rest of the day.  I found out yesterday that she calls every sub in her room Mrs. Jones. 

I was reading a book aloud to a group of students, sitting in the rocking chair when *CRASH* the entire rocking chair broke apart underneath me!  There I was, one shocked woman, sitting amidst the remains of a rocking chair!  (Once I finally caught my breath and figured out how I ended up on the floor, we called the story finished and went outside for a quick extra recess.)

On my way out of the building yesterday, I was accosted by a teacher that I subbed for last week.
"Did you hear the news?"  she asked.  "No, what?"  I replied.
"Seven kids in my class have lice.  They found them the day after you subbed for me.  You need to get checked before you leave today."

What a wonderful, wonderful couple of weeks it's been!

This post originally appeared in my now defunct "Mom's View" blog.  I moved it to this blog at the request of my kids, who wanted to have all of the various posts that accompanied their high school years in one place.  I've matched the publication dates here to their original post date.  If you're reading these posts, I sincerely thank you for taking the time to go back through them all! 

Pink Hair

The middle child now has pink hair.   You read that right - PINK hair! 

He has been in the middle of his competition season- Physics Olympics, Destination Imagination, and the Robotics Tournaments.  He wanted to do something that would make him stand out and be memorable.

I've got to admit, the pink hair does stand out! 

He and his friends got together before Easter week and decided to dye their hair.  Since his hair is so dark, he decided to go whole hog and bleach it first, then dye it pink.

I had no advance warning before this happened.  He came home, walked into the room, said he was going to take a shower, and walked back out again.  I looked at his sister and said, in a rather stunned voice "Was his hair pink?"

Okie Dokie.  Pink Hair. 

I've actually gotten used to it.  It's easy to find him in a crowd.  Bright pink hair in a sea of heads- easy to spot. He brought a nice touch of Easter joy to our table- he looks like a giant Easter Egg now.

I've had several people ask me my thoughts about his hair color.  So, I'll share them with you:

1) He doesn't smoke, do drugs, and isn't out having sex.  Pink Hair is not a battle worth fighting.

2) He needs to enjoy his hair while he still has it.

One last thought to leave you with....  While we were at the University of Maryland last week, we stopped at the statue of Jim Henson with Kermit in front of the student union.  Jim and Kermie are sitting on the statue, talking to each other.  I took middle child's picture on the bench with Jim and Kermie.

As people were walking by, they stopped and stared at him, with his pink hair, turned towards Jim and Kermie as if he was talking to them.

"Oh My God..." said one father to me... "Your son looks just like Beaker!"

Yep... my son Beaker, who hopes to be a Terrapin, class of 2017. 

Enjoy that hair while you still have it!!!!