Summer Bucket List Linky Party

I am linking up today with three very good blogging buddies!

It hasn't hit me yet that next Friday will be my first official day of summer vacation.  My list of things to do to close out this school year is a mile long and as soon as I cross something off, another item is added.  It's the weirdest thing.  I can't seem to whittle it down.  It is horrifying.  

Wait.  Did I just write a plot for a new horror movie?

In the meantime, I am DREAMING of summer.  Here is my Summer Bucket List.  These are not in order of importance with the exception of the first one.  

SLEEP SLEEP SLEEP SLEEP SLEEP SLEEP

PJS PJS PJS PJS PJS PJS PJS PJS PJS PJS PJS

I'm taking two road trips.  One is to San Luis Obispo which I was accidentally calling Paso Robles.  It's okay, though.  They both have wine.  The other trip is to The River Somewhere In Arizona.  I will be the passenger (my hubby loves to drive) which means I might be climbing into the backseat of our MDX and using the DVD Entertainment package that we did not need, but the car salesman seemed to think we did.  Even though no one ever rides back there but Murphie and she seems to enjoy chewing on the seatbelts much more than watching TV.

I'm going on two different airplanes.  One is taking me (solo) to Texas to spend time with my twin and her family.  The other is taking my hubby and me to Vegas.  Maybe we'll get married again.

I am dying to write more plays.  My creative juices are flowing and the summer will allow me time to do this!!  For real!  Am I weird?  I also just want to be able to create when the mood strikes. Not just when I'm in the shower or falling asleep at school.

READ READ READ READ READ READ READ

I can't wait to read again.  I have never gone this long without reading a novel before.  Well, maybe I have, but I don't like it!  I fly on airplanes in order to read.  I let the people sitting near me know that I am a reader and that I am unavailable to talk.  I don't care where you're going or where you've been, so don't feel like you have to tell me.  Just leave me in peace to read.  By the way,  I'm a really nice person.  Honest.

I will have to work on school stuff.  But seeing as how working on school stuff is more of a hobby and not a chore, this is okay.  Really.  I am sort of a sick person because cutting laminate gives me a sense of satisfaction and purpose.

Well.  There you go.  That's my list.  It's nice to know that I will accomplish all of it.  Except for possibly the sleeping -- I need to have a good, long talk with Miss Murphie.

What's on your Summer Bucket List?

This Story Does Not Have a Happy Ending

For the last couple of weeks, we have had a problem at our school.

Dive Bombing Birds.

For real.

It first started on the day we had our On Site Common Core Training (you know - when I found out I'm a Smoothie).  One of our presenters was on his way back to the library when we all watched a bird crash-land right onto his head.  We gasped.

And then we laughed.  Some of us may have laughed a little harder than others.  I'm not naming any names.

What a freak thing, we thought.

Until we took a break, and headed to the lounge, and every single brunette was almost taken out by two low-flying birds.   

Us blondes?  We were good to go.

Turns out those birds had a nest in a bush right outside my classroom window.  Which just so happens to be right across from our library.  And which just so happens to be on the path that every student, parent, teacher, and admin walk along to get to the rest of the campus.  In fact, we have shoe prints painted onto the sidewalk so that children take this exact path.  Don't ask me why.  I do not know.  The shoe prints are blue, and they are windy (not windy like the weather, but windy with a long i vowel sound), and what should take a kid one minute to get to the office takes more like five because they try to match up their shoes onto the blue shoes and they take the windy-isn't-it-nice-to-be-killing-time-math-is-too-hard-today-path rather than the straight-across-get-there-in-a-jiffy-path.

Well, those birds guarded that path as if their lives depended on it. They took it quite seriously.  Over the course of the next few days, they got braver and braver.  

They would fly into and out of people's hair.   Zoom!

Brunettes?  Yes.

Children of all ages?  Yes.

A bald man?  Yes.  He said he could feel the gust of the wings flapping by his head.

Blondes?  Eventually.  Yes.  Us too.

There were stories of people being pecked.  Not true, but I suppose the wings felt like it as they flapped past people's heads.  It's important to know no one was pecked or harmed.  Maybe they were given the willies or frightened a bit, but no one was actually hurt.

An innocent little boy told his teacher (my partner), "Guess what?!  Guess what?!  A bird fell on my head today!"

Hate to burst your bubble there, little fella, but he didn't fall on your head.  He attacked you.  We died laughing.

Each day, I watched outside my windows (before school, while teaching, and after school) as teachers concocted various ways of being free from Bird Dive Bombings.

One would swing her lanyard with keys around and around like helicopter blades.  (This was my preferred method, too.)

Another would talk to them.  "I'm not getting your baby birds.  I'm just walking to class.  Leave me alone."

Another would carry rolled up butcher paper and karate chop the air as she walked past.

All of these made me laugh and laugh.  Because as I watched outside my window, I would just see crazy teachers either swinging things in the air and/or talking to themselves, and no birds.  So they looked slightly crazy.  Or normal for this time of the year.  Take your pick.

The best ones were the teachers, parents, support staff, or kids who somehow had no clue about the birds and walked blindly into their path.  Poor unsuspecting souls.

TAKE THAT!  The birds would say as they flew into and out of their hair.  WHIZZZ.  SWOOSH.  

And these unsuspecting souls would duck and crouch and look behind them and scratch their heads.

And I would laugh and laugh.  When I would tell my husband the latest bird story, I could barely get the words out, and he'd be laughing too.  I had my family in tears as I acted out the teachers with their weapons of butcher paper and keys, and the must-be-living-under-a-rock people who had no clue a bird was about to get them.  I also loved to act it out for the teachers on my team who also saw it live and in person, but you know me, I'm a drama queen, and we would laugh and laugh all over again.

One morning, as we were saying the Pledge of Allegiance, I saw a particularly vicious dive bombing out of the corner of my eye.  Just as I tried to smother my giggle, one of my boys started giggling as he said the pledge.  That just set me off.  So he and I giggled our way through the pledge which I know is disrespectful so please don't write me a letter or turn me into the Patriotic Citizens of the U.S.  We couldn't help it!  Especially when he turned to me and said, "Did you see that?!" all hilarious-like.

I just knew that those birds were going to get me BIG TIME because I kept laughing every time they got someone else.  Karma, if you will.

There were times I would go the super long way that made absolutely no sense because I was afraid THAT DAY was THE DAY and it was going to be my turn.  Other times, I prayed.

Really.

Please protect me from the birds.  Please don't let them mess up my hair.  Or poop on me.  Amen.

Well, I'm happy to tell you I was never dive bombed.

However.

This story does not have a happy ending.

Because as much as I was afraid of the darn birds, I understood they were doing their job.  They were protecting their babies.  But other people did not feel the same way.  There was talk about liability and danger and unsafe environment and blah blah blah. So calls were made.  And some guy showed up.

And even though we were told he was a wild life preservationist or something important like that, he wasn't.

My partner and I watched out my window as he grabbed the nest of baby birds and dumped it on the ground.

I told you.  NOT A HAPPY ENDING.

The mama and daddy birds were going crazy.  

My partner and I were in tears.  

It was HORRIBLE.

And now I can't stop thinking about it.

And I'm going to write a strongly worded letter to somebody.  But I don't know who.

One of our male teachers was so outraged that he kind of yelled at the guy.

But I don't know who or why or how it ended this way.

I just know the birds are gone now and it's safe to walk on the path.

But I miss the birds.

And I feel sad.  :(

I'm a Smoothie

Happy Sunday!

I have 7 1/2 more school days.  Tomorrow is my last Monday of the school year because Memorial Day is coming in handy next week and will curb any Sunday Night Blues.  

I spent most of yesterday working on report cards and my slideshow.

I can't see straight right now, but that's okay.  Also, just for the record, I sneezed again and my left contact got lost up in my eye again.  For the love of Pete, I said.

I am now wearing my old contacts and my eyes feel much more comfortable.  I don't know whether the problem of not being able to see straight is due to the old prescription or how much I was on the computer yesterday . . . 

In the meantime, I need to talk to you about the last Common Core training I went to.

It was actually at our school site and I was told I was going to be a "Model Leader".  This is because only K-1 transitioned this year in our district and I had already attended three whole day trainings.  Apparently, that's all you need to be a Model Leader.  I sure hope this isn't what medical school is like.  Good job, buddy!  You've got three surgical situations under your belt -- now go open your own practice!  You're a Model Doctor!

I sat with our third grade team and my partner had to sit at a different table because she was a Model Leader, too.  They needed Model Leaders at different tables.  This upset us greatly.  Especially because it didn't seem to matter to anyone that we were more interested in the snacks and the extra long lunchtimes at our trainings, rather than the actual trainings themselves.

In any case, I found out that I am, in fact, a smoother.  A smoothie, if you will.  My third grade buddy wrote the following on a napkin and passed it to me (as if we were in high school):  "Next blog post:  I'm a Smoothie"

Yes.  I am.  

I want to lie and tell you that I am the best teacher ever and already implement all kinds of Common Core practices in my classroom, but I can't.  I must be honest with you.  You know that by now.

I want to lie and tell you that I ate a salad with dressing on the side for dinner last night while the hubby took Murphie to her "special agility" training.  But I didn't.  Instead, I had Ruffles potato chips and Ranch dip.  Then when that didn't fill me up, I had two Dove chocolates.  And when that didn't cut it, I had some cherries.

That's the truth.  So I will not lie now.  

I try to implement Common Core practices as much as possible.  But one area that really throws me is allowing my students to THINK FOR THEMSELVES.  Gasp.

I'm so guilty of doing all the thinking.  And pretty much most of the talking.

Our trainers called teachers like me "Smoothers".  We like to smooth rough roads for our kids.  Give them hints when it's time to infer or predict or add or subtract or sneeze or tie a shoe or write or whatever.

At times, I feel like I need to teach kindergarten because I am really attracted to those standards that say, "With Prompting and Support".

WITH PROMPTING AND SUPPORT!!

Yes!

I like that!

The first grade standards don't say that, though.  And while I DO allow think time and partner work and brainstorming sessions and all of that good stuff . . . I smooth the road a bit for those learners that may be struggling . . . 

Hmmmm.  That is my job, though, right?  

Hello?  

Anyone?

So.

My name is Kristin and I'm a Smoothie.  

Are you?

Or are you more of a Chunky Peanut Butter type?

My List

Tomorrow is Open House.

You might remember that my school goes ALL OUT for Open House.  Seriously.  It's not just me and my Over Achiever In a Constant Competition Disease.  It's all of us.

{Here's} my Open House post from last year.

It's pretty much the exact same this year except I'm adding some nice touches to the Sign In Table.  

Due to Open House And All Things End Of The Year happening, I have a list going.  This list is for things I can accomplish at home.  There's a whole 'nother list for school.  And instead of blogging about a funny story, or telling you why I am a Smoothie, or giving you a management tip, I will just give you my Home List.  Then you'll know why I can't stay and chat awhile.

My List:

Make two more picture signs for the whiteboard

Laminate picture signs

Create new, adorable and irresistible sign in sheet

Find frame to put sign in sheet inside of

Email secretary the invitation for End of the Year Party

Drink wine

Figure out who is getting an award

Fill in the awards

Eat chocolate

Find lost file of Morning Work

Find something to wear to Open House

Go back in time and buy something new to wear to Open House

Chase Murphie around the backyard and prevent her from eating the cotton stuffing out of Monkey

Give funeral for Monkey

Pack a bag for Open House

{bring good brush, blow dryer, makeup bag, Spanx, wedges, dress, slip, jewelry, nail polish, toothbrush, toothpaste and, if possible, a professional makeup artist and hair stylist}

Drink wine

Charge camera battery

Work on slide show

Stop obsessing about title pages and perfect clip art for slide show

Lose my mind

It's actually a lot longer, but that's what I need to do TONIGHT.

So I have to go.

I know you understand.

I'll see ya around.  Summer is 9 1/2 days school days away.  

Sweet dreams are made of this . . . 

Who am I to disagree?

:)

Let's Rap

It was 100 degrees here today, people.  

That is entirely too hot, especially since I wore Uggs to school last Monday and called 911 for a pregnant woman who slipped in the rain. 

By the way, she had her baby on Saturday and he is perfect.  Absolutely perfect and he has the best lips.  :)  

Anywho, no recesses for me today.  Or the kids.  We were miserable until the identical twins shared their Wanted Posters today.  Our Wanted Posters are a Fun Family Homework Project that I assume most families do not have fun making, but they have to endure the process because we hang them up at Open House.  I've learned that Posters On Display bring out the glitter and stickers even if you're not having fun with your family.

So one of the twins shared his Fascinating Fact from his poster.  

He can rap.

Of course we had to hear it.  Or, at least I did, so I got the kids to start a chant so it seemed like they did.  The twins came up and did a wonderful rendition of a completely inappropriate rap song that shall remain nameless because I should have been quicker on my feet and stopped it.  But, seeing as how my feet had melted off on our hot blacktop, I wasn't that quick.

The class clapped and clapped.  They were thrilled.  Much like Sheldon on the Big Bang Theory when he learned that Howard can do fun impersonations for Dungeons and Dragons.

Then one of my more serious boys (We will call him NotaTwin) raised his hand quite politely, especially for this time of the year.  So I called on him.

And NotaTwin said, "I thought they were going to do a different kind of rap."  In no way did that declaration emphasize the fact that he is the Police Officer of our class and, on principle, does not think the twins are as much of a hit as the rest of us do.  Not at all.  Even though I saw an eyeroll, he wasn't really bothered.  He may not have clapped, (I mean, that's so beneath him) but he was perplexed.

I wondered if NotaTwin thought the twins were going to do hip hop or something.  Maybe, being of a religious type, he thought they were going to do a rap that included angels or clouds or heaven.  

I said, "What kind of rap did you think they were going to do?"

NotaTwin replied, "You know - like . . . (insert hand movements) . . . wrap a birthday present.  Like that."  This was said as if the rest of us were just plain ridiculous and his last gesture of tying-the-bow-just-so made his point perfectly.  Tie.  Pull.  Measure the ends.

I tried really hard not to laugh.

But I did.

Silently.  

With tears.

And no sound.

NotaTwin was not amused.

Five for Friday (Fraturday)

Happy Saturday!

I'm going to catch you up on my week with a little Five for Friday action.

Murphie's first time at the Dog Beach.  Actually, our first time, too.  As much as my hubby wants Murphie to be a swimmer, she is much more of a land lover.  (As well as a bird lover, lizard lover, ball lover, treat lover, people lover, and kid lover to name a few.)  It was cold and windy so not my idea of a great beach day, but it was fun to see Murphie show off in front of the other humans and their dogs because, quite simply, she is the best dog in all the land. And I am in no way biased.  Seriously.  The certificate that I made up on my computer says she is the best dog in all the land.

Nursing pads?  What?

Well, the sweet hubs did all the grocery shopping this week.  We usually go together and call it Quality Family Time, but this particular week I was drowning in all things Open House and Mother's Day and Assessments so family time went by the wayside.  One of the items on the grocery list was Cotton Rounds.  I use cotton rounds to take off my eye makeup.  And fingernail polish.  And whatever else I deem necessary to remove.

Apparently, nursing pads are the new cotton rounds.  Bigger!  Softer!  More absorbent than cotton rounds!  Pick yourself up a box today!  As well as removing your eye makeup, you can just use the whole pad as a loofah!  

I.died.laughing.

And then I gave them to a friend at school who is actually nursing an infant.  Because I am not.  Clearly.

These cute blocks were from a family for Teacher Appreciation.  They spell out my whole last name which I've told you before, but now I am trying to stay on the down low.  You know - even with FB and Instagram and Whatever Else I Can Use To Get Myself Out There Because I Am Needy.  Anyways, I am IN LOVE with these blocks.  They go with my Pioneer theme for Open House!  And, even though the last letter block has a pistol on it, I don't care.  

I mean, it's perfectly acceptable, right?  It doesn't matter that a third grader was suspended THE SAME DAY for saying to one of my first graders that he had a gun.  Even though he didn't.  Pistol schmistol is what I always say.

Our school piloted a Relay for Recess which is a fun spin on Relay for Life.  It was really just a Free for All Recess, but you had to stay with your whole class the whole time instead of going to the lounge to see what kind of food was up for grab on the tables.

But it was a really cool event and each class made banners to hang up on our fence . . . first grade had each student decorate the first initial of their first name and then each class took a letter/symbol so that we had the Stand Up 2 Cancer logo.

Let's not tell my room mom that she actually spelled out BRA.

We also walked the track and had a couple of speakers including one of our own teachers who is in remission and his student who is also in remission.

What was special for my class (and me) was that one of my students was a bone marrow donor for his little brother who had lukemia.  His little brother took a Survivor's lap around the track and ran that thing with all his might -- our class was chanting his name and the whole school was screaming and cheering for him -- it was INCREDIBLE.  

It is perfectly natural to cry at recess.  I see kids do it all the time.

We ended the week with our Teacher Appreciation luncheon hosted by PTA.  It was a Sports theme this year and absolutely adorable.  No detail went unnoticed.  

And the menu?  HOLY DELICIOUS FOOD.  I ate what I would normally eat in an entire weekend in a 30 minute lunch period.

Hotdogs, chili, and hotdog fixings, Jersey Mike sandwiches, coleslaw, potato salad, chips of all kinds which created a dilemma (Nacho Cheese Doritos or Cheetos?), Drumsticks, Dove Bars, and chocolate covered sprinkled bedazzled pretzel rods.  The moms walked around with those trays around their necks like at real ballgames.  So fun!

I was pretty sick afterward, but it was well worth it.  Like most junk food.

And that's my Five for Friday.

Today, we have the family coming over for Mother's Day.  We always host Mother's Day so my mom and sister don't have to do anything.  And since my hubby is the cook, I don't have to do anything either.  It works out perfect.  

:)

This Story Has a Happy Ending

School-life is happening at warp speed right now.  

Except for the half day Common Core training that I went to yesterday.  Then it slooooowed down to a bit of a crawl until they served donuts . . . more on that tomorrow.  All I know is that I am a smoothie.  A Smoothie.  Oh dear.

{I want you to know that the following story has a happy ending.  You need to know that ahead of time because I know I take awhile to get to the point and you might be worried.}

Monday started out with rain.

And inside recess before school even began.  This is not how I normally like to start my day.

My kids were inside gallavanting around the classroom because I took away their morning work and they had nothing to do.  Usually, their morning work is on their desk waiting for them when school begins.  But, on rainy days, I have a few overachievers who like to complete it BEFORE the bell even rings and this is just not acceptable.  So now I take it off their desks, undoing what I did from the night before, and they just have to sit there before the bell rings.  And/or gallavant, talk, draw, read, pick their noses, giggle, perform a somersault, whatever.   Either way, I pretend they're not in the room.

And then.  One of my girls, standing near our windows, shouted out above the hubbub, "TEACHER!  Can you please help that pregnant woman?!! She just fell!!!!"

I didn't even take one second to ask her a question.  This little girl typically talks like this, "Teacher!  Um . . . can I . . . will you . . . um . . . "  Scratch head.  Deep Breath.  "Wait.  Um . . . you know how . . . how . . . how . . . "  You know - First Grade Language that you have to Decipher and Translate in your head and Practice your Patience Language.

I ran out of the classroom, down my stairs, and saw a VERY PREGNANT woman flat on her back, on the ground, in the rain.  Another teacher had just gotten there and I asked if she'd called 911.  She hadn't.

As a matter of fact, she was still holding all her State Tests in that special tub that you're not allowed to let out of your sight.   

I don't even know what I said, but I ran back to my classroom and called 911 from my CLASSROOM PHONE.  Which meant I was stuck in the classroom.  Which meant that for the first time in my entire life of owning a cell phone, it was not permanently attached to me as my hubby always insunates.

I have never called 911 before.

At least, not on purpose.  Once, on accident, I dialed 9 to get a line out of my classroom.  Except we don't need to get a line out if we're just calling the office.  And the office numbers start with 11.  So . . . 9 - 1107 pretty much guarantees our secretary is going to sound like a stranger asking me to state my emergency.  And "Do you know what time the assembly starts?" is not an emergency.  I know that now.

So this time I called 911 ON PURPOSE.

I stated my emergency and then said I needed to get back out there.  I think my brain said, "I NEED TO HANG UP!!  I'M AN IDIOT!  I DIDN'T USE MY CELL PHONE!  PLEASE DON'T REPORT ME!" but my mouth said, "Is there anyway I can call you back from my cell so that I can go back outside?"

I grabbed my cell phone and ran back outside.  When I kneeled down next to the poor woman, I realized I knew her.  She was a former parent and I'd had both her children.  And my current room mom had just hosted her baby shower on the weekend and I got to see all the pics on FB.  I knew she was having a boy.  I knew the name they had picked out.  I knew she was 37 weeks.

She had slipped in the rain and fallen on her stomach.  She was crying.  She couldn't feel the baby moving anymore.

I started to cry, but stopped immediately.  "GET AHOLD OF YOURSELF!" I said inside my head.  "WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?!"

I really don't remember anything else.  I held her hand the whole time while some other people -- ???? -- held umbrellas over us.  The 911 operator had me ask her a bunch of questions.  The operator also stayed on the line with me the whole time until the hot firefighters   paramedics showed up.

I asked the mom if I could pray for her and she said yes.  

It felt like it took the paramedics FOREVER.  But I know it didn't.

At some point, someone asked if I needed to go back to class.

"Um, yes.  I'm just going to say goodbye to this sweet woman and be on my way because we're starting district assessments today.  Excuse me, very pregnant lady, I understand that you fell and it happened outside my classroom, but I have District Assessments and must go now."

I MEAN, REALLY!

When I did go back to class, one of our afternoon kinder teachers was in my room and my partner was in my room and they had everything under control.  Don't you just love when people step up?

This story has a happy ending.  I told you it did.

Mom is fine.  Shaken, but fine.  A little bruised.  But all good!

Baby is great!  Still baking in the oven.  Strong heartbeat!

She was released from the hospital the same day.

And, it turns out, I called 911 from my classroom phone NOT like an idiot!  It actually helped the dispatchers because our school address showed up right away!  

Wipe sweat from brow.

Teach.

End the day with a practice lock-down drill.

The End.