The Rumor Mill

Today during a professional development meeting my cell phone rang.

Normally I would not even dream of answering my phone at such an inopportune time. However, seeing as where my superintendent had just seen fit to blast me in front of all my colleagues, I wasn't feeling terribly professional.

So...I picked up the phone. It was my friend, Maura. She is also a teacher in the district. She was at another professional development meeting with another teacher from my school.

As soon as I picked up the phone, Maura was gushing her heartfelt congratulations. I was flummoxed. I asked her what on earth she was congratulating me on. "Linda M. just told me you're pregnant," she cooed.

Ahhhh.....????

No.

I'm not pregnant. But if people are thinking I am, I had best get my ass to Jenny Craig on the double.

Strange.

Talk about being the last to know.

Graduation

Today is my last day of school. Usually I'm totally psyched for this day to happen. Today, however, I approach the day with a little more sobriety than I normally would. (And no, I don't mean sobriety as in the opposite of bombed, but rather in the opposite sense than gleeful. Just wanted to clear that up.)

This is my first year with an 8th grade homeroom. I always taught 8th grade, but previously I had 7th grade homerooms. And sure I was sad to see the 8th graders leave, but there was, I guess, a little sense of removal from all that emotion. Last year, when my 8th grade teaching colleagues retired, I asked the principal if I could take a grade 8 homeroom.

It has been a fantastic year. My homeroom rocked. The kids were funny, considerate, personable and just straight up good. Sure, they were goofs sometimes. Of course I had to tell them off for being jackasses every once in a while. But we "got" each other. I knew they were awesome kids, even if they were having a not-so-awesome-kids day, and they knew I loved them, even if I had to play the heavy or remove some privilege temporarily or something. We all knew our roles, and for the most part, we played them.

Me and my homeroom. It was a match made in heaven.

I have threatened, more than a few times this year, to report all their final averages for their classes as failing. This would ensure that they would have to stay behind in 8th grade and I could keep them for another year. They would chuckle and promise that if I passed them, they'd come back to visit.

I guess I'll have to live with that.

But in all seriousness, these kids have been attending this school since kindergarten. It is high time that they moved on. They are so ready to be done with elementary school. (There are good and bad things to be said about k-8 schools. It keeps them every so slightly younger for an every so slightly longer period of time. That's obviously a good thing. But they really start to feel cramped after a while. Obviously that's a bad thing.)

So, I have to let them go. I will be there today, amidst the 8th grade girl tears, comforting and consoling and telling them that they will be great at the high school and that after two days there, they'll never look back or long for their elementary school days. I'll say all this cheerfully, knowing that it's true. But inwardly, I will be heavyhearted. This is the BEST homeroom a teacher could ever have had. I LOVED these kids.

But as I said...it is their time. Keeping them would be unfair.

And now I'm off. I have an extremely early start to my last day because one of my students called me yesterday after she found out that some of the kids' pictures were missing from the CD yearbook they did. It turns out that the guy who did the CD burning for us (while we were on our field trip) burned the wrong file. It was one of the drafts and not the final project. In my mind, I was thinking, "What's the big deal?" But then I realized that of course it is a VERY big deal for the poor kids whose pictures don't appear in their own 8th grade yearbook. So, I trudged down to Target, picked up a pack of CDs, made plans to meet Tina at school at 7, and start the final burn!

This was after staying at school until 5:00 conducting interviews for a new 8th grade teacher.

Who said the end of the year was easy?

Well....I'm off. Tina and yearbook duty call.

Xtreme Frisbee

Today we had our field trip to Canobie Lake amusement park in New Hampshire.

The kids were great. The weather was a dream. The colleague who went with me is a lot of fun. The day was perfect. It had been threatening to lightening and downpour, but none of that nightmare weather ever materialized.

As soon as we entered the park, the kids scrammed and ran to all four corners of the park in pursuit of their favorite rides.

My colleague and I walked around and enjoyed being outdoors. We occasionally ran into some of our students, chatted about what rides they'd been on, and then pleasantly parted ways.

After lunch (we waited 45 minutes in line for disgusting fatty chicken fingers and fries), we ran into Anna-Julia, Melissa, Brandon and Sergio. Actually, Melissa and Brandon were sitting there, having an iced tea, and waiting for Anna-Julia and Sergio, who had retired momentarily to their respective restrooms. I expressed my disappointment at the fact that my colleague refused to ride the "XTreme Frisbee ride with me." At this, Melissa and Brandon perked up and informed me that Anna-Julia was desperate for somebody to ride the thing with. Neither of them felt like braving the ride.

So, when Anna-Julia came back, we immediately reparied to the corner of the park where the XTreme Frisbee ride is housed.

Thinking it hilarious that their teacher was perparing to go on this most horrifying ride, Brandon and Melissa took thier phones out and summoned all their classmates to the ride to witness what they thought might be my extreme diziness and disorientation.

When we arrived at the ride, a good 3/4 of the kids were there, waiting to join us in our venture onto the XTreme Frisbee ride.

We waited in line together, me and all of my 8th graders, much to the amusement of all the other hundreds of kids in line. "Hey, look at those kids going on the ride with the teacher!"

At last, our turn to ride arrived.

This ride consists of a huge disc with seats all around the perameters. The disc begins to hoist itself back and forth, all the while spinning around like crazy.

With each passage to and fro, the disc gains more momentum, gains more height, and spins more violently out of control.

Just when I had convinced myself that the ride had reached its climax, I realized that the speed had intensified and that we were going so high that we were practically spinning completely over. It was outrageous. I am a fan of horrifying amusements, but this thing was over the top even for me. I was willing the thing to be over!

After what seemed like hours of spinning and hurtling through space at breakneck speeds, the thing finally started to slow and descend.

After that, I had gained some official streed cred and was dragged to every spinning ride in the park by my students.

But I can't complain. I had a great time.

This is what being an 8th grade teacher is about.

Adventure Tomorrow

Another advantage of having an 8th grade homeroom is that I get to go on the field trip to Canobie Lake Park. As a 7th grade homeroom teacher, I've had to sit back in years past and watch while the 8th graders went off for this exciting day. This year, I'll get to be a part of it.

And yes, I have every last intention of going on rides, either with the kids or by myself if necessary!

Ha ha.

A Memo To The General Public

To: General Public

From: Nants

Re: Personal Hygiene Crisis

It is nearly summer. Temperatures are on the rise. It is crucial that all of us make it a habit to take regular showers. Unless you are living in a secluded cabin in the middle of the deepest depths of the woods and have no intentions of ever seeing another living soul, you MUST shower daily. If you are taking public transportation, you absolutely MUST shower. You must also use deodorant and wear clean clothes. Brush your teeth for good measure while you're at it.

This is no laughing matter, people. This is extremely serious business.

Refusing to shower is not cute. It's not quaint. It's not "environmentally responsible." Think of other ways to save the planet if you must; bike instead of driving, recycle, use a reusable water bottle...whatever. Just please, please do not forgo the daily sower.

I beg of you.

Shocker

Every once in a while, logging onto MSN.com can be a bit shocking. You navigate to the web page and see some shocking headline and you have to take a minute to re-read it to make sure that you've read it correctly.

Such was the case when I found out about that psychopath that kept his daughter locked in a basement in Austria for 24 years? Twenty-four years? I had to read that headline a few times to make sure that's really what it said.

Today, I visited the website, and was greeted with news of Tim Russert's death. I honestly read the thing a few times before I really grasped the reality of Russert's passing.

Now don't get me wrong, I didn't know Tim Russert personally or anything. Sometimes, though, a famous person's death strikes me as if I have experienced some sense of loss. I guess because Russert was so prolific in his appearances in this heated election season. (Can I really call it a "season'? Eon might be a more appropriate word.) It seemed like the guy was being featured on every single news-related broadcast on every media outlet.

And he seemed like a pretty nice guy. You know, an average Joe kind of person.

I think the irony in the whole thing is that Russert, who was known for his low-tech-ism, is now being instantaneously memorialized on the internet and on impossibly quickly compiled life retrospectives that could only have been done with the help of computers.

Already this evening, NBC resurrected Tom Brokaw (who I also really like and haven't been a devotee of any nightly network news since he retired) to host and hourlong special "a look back on Tim Russert's life."

Anyway, I kind of liked Russert, and I liked "Meet the Press" when I was around to watch it. The morning talk shows are going to have to find somebody else to come in and break down politics for the average person.

Oh well....RIP Russert.

Snapshot of the day....

I kind of like blogging like I did yesterday. It is kind of "cheating" because I didn't really compose proper paragraphs, but still...I got my points across.

I think I'll do a little more of that today...

1. I found out that the principal never bothered to discipline a 7th grader who had been dead rude to a first grade teacher Friday afternoon. I encouraged that teacher to remind the principal of the incident again today. Thankfully the principal did finally look into the matter. The worst part of the whole thing is that the teacher felt threatened and told the principal as much. It's pretty weak that the principal just got around to addressing the issue today.

2. We're not sure we're keeping the tempurpedic. I'm just not sure I'm in love with it. Stephen isn't either. I think we should be ready to divorce each other for this mattress at that price.

3. I am typing on Lauren's computer as her kids play Play-Do. (Sorry, Lauren.) They are busily fulfilling my request of frying me up a Play-Do leg of lamb in the playhouse skillet. They're pretty happily setting about this task.

4. I finally finished correcting my pile, nay MOUNTAIN, of my students' young author books. Believe me, I think it is more work for the teacher to correct these things than it is for the kids to do them.

5. I am going to be in for a very late night at school tomorrow. The yearbook staff are determined to stick around until the thing is done. Not that they have much choice, mind you. I would do it, myself, but I honestly have no idea how to use the foolish program they're using. So, I'm going to go to school tomorrrow armed with money for pizza and soda, and patience to stick around until the thing is finished.

6. Gene is meeting me for Mexican tomorrow after I finish the yearbook. I think I'll need a margerita by then.

7. I'm outta here to play with my nieces. I haven't been this neglectful of them. I just type fast!!!

Checking in

Not much to say.

5.5 days of school left (if I'm calculating correctly)

Still sweltering hot in my apartment.

Shoulder feeling a bit "off' following one of my "FIRM" workouts.

Listening to some strange music at the moment.

Feeling overwhelmed by the amount of grading I still have to do before closing out the school year.

Dreading the "end of year" paperwork that accompanies the end of every school year.

Looking forward to watching our remaining two episodes of "Lost."

Looking out the window at a lovely, evening sunny scene

Incredulous at the fact that the day of our amusement park field trip is threatening rain...even as all the surrounding days look to be perfect.

Hungry.

Cooking frozen pizza...real heatlhy

Wearing white wife-beater and jean shorts. Classy, right?

The Sweetest Thing

It is hot in our apartment. I mean...sweltering. I'm not complaining, mind you. I'm just stating the facts. You know by now that I really live for this weather.

But still.....we needed a bit of reprieve.

Stephen was in the bedroom, relaxing beneath the ceiling fan, which is the extent of our heat-relief equipment. I was sitting in the living room, profusely sweating under the effort of sitting there.

All of a sudden an idea hit me...

There is an ice cream shop about ten minutes (on foot) from our condo. I thought, "Wouldn't it be a great idea to go get a cool, refreshing snack?"

So, I bounced the idea off Stephen, who readily agreed to go with me.

We both threw on something that just about qualified as presentable and set off for the ice cream shop.

As we were walking up the street, enjoying the warm weather and rehashing our respective days at work, I thought to myself (and I know this is really corny), "this is what being hitched is all about." I have a built in ice cream shop date, or just somebody who'll throw on a pair of shoes and walk around the block with me.

That's ok by me.

Dont worry....This post contains no spoilers! Promise.

Lauren and I went to check out the Sex and the City movie today. If you are still dying to see the movie, I promise you can still read on without learning of any of the movie's plot twists and turns. I wouldn't do that to you.

I will say that I think the movie is well worth its admission price. The actresses look great, the dialogue is as witty and snappy as ever, and the story line will keep you very much engaged.

The funny, silly scenes are typical Sex and the City fodder. Nothing surprising there. The more dramatic scenes are extremely well acted. I felt as emotionally invested in these characters as ever.

The filming was often done in such a way as to have the four ladies sitting around an "open-ended" table, sharing a laugh, and really pulling the viewer in as the fifth friend in the crew.

The film lasts for around 2.5 hours. The Boston Globe dubbed it "Lord of the Rings For Girls." I couldn't agree more.

If you were a fan of the show, go check out the movie. It is well worth the time and money spent.

Ok, but here's the deal...

Lauren and I, being the punctual creatures that we are, arrived at the cinema around 20 minutes prior to the beginning of the previews, even. We were all perched in prime movie theatre real estate (aisle seats on a row at the back of the rather small theatre) ready to view our "old friends" from a comfortable vantage point.

I took a trip to the restroom (quelle surprise) prior to the start of the previews. When I returned, Lauren announced that we would have to leave our seats and find other seating. I was a big nervous at this point. You see, the theatre was about three quarters full, with only the front row seats available. She said the woman who had come to our row during my trip to the can had on some really noxious perfume.

Lauren is a lot more sensitive to smell than I am, so I told her we could switch seats. She could sit on the aisle and I would sit next to the perfume lady. So, we executed the seat switch. Lauren had barely settled into her aisle seat, and I still had yet to plant my ass in her newly vacated seat when the odor of this woman's perfume hit me full on. I had no self-censoring in place when I proclaimed, "This is really BAD! We need to get out of here."

If I had thought about it, I would not have been so obnoxious because the woman understood that we were leaving because of her. But seriously, if she was going to be "in my face" with her perfume, I could be in her face with my comments.

So, we were forced to move to practically the front of the theatre. We had been planted in the middle of the theatre, but now we were relegated to the side. So, we had to sit there with our necks craned sideways and upwards. I'm still sore, but I think the evasion of the perfume (and I know I'm going to spell this next word wrong, but I'm not even going to try to correct it) asphyxiation was well worth a little neck kink. I'll let you know when I evaluate the mobility range of my neck tomorrow.

Peace out

Hot Hot Hot

I am sitting in my apartment ROASTING. Actually, given the fact that it is above 90 degrees outside, my apartment is not as hot as I would have thought it would be.

I have something about air-conditioning in my apartment. Believe me, I'm the first one to duck into a cool mall or movie theatre to get a brief respite from the intense heat. However, I've never been a fan of having my own living space air conditioned. I guess I spend the entire year waiting for the summer, so when it comes, I really like to feel it. Granted, some nights are tough int the old sixth floor sweat box apartment, but I have always opted to tough it out.

So you see, it's not an energy conservation thing. I wish I were that goody goody. Hey, if I wanted to blast some AC, I figure my carbon footprint is small enough to allow me to do so without guilt. (Thank god my carbon footprint is small. My real footprint is certainly not.) I take the bus and walk most places, so I'm saving the planet in my meanderings from point A to point B on any given journey. But enough about that...all I'm saying is that I wish I could say that I was taking an environmental stand against air conditioning so that I'd seem all cool and stuff, but really, I just don't like having AC at home.

Today was a strange day. The temperature soared above 90 for most of the day. When I left the house this morning, at around 7:00 AM, it was still cool enough for me to have a thin t-shirt on. But I could feel the heat lurking beneath the cool temps. Does that make any sense?

You cannot understand how much I love the hot weather.

I almost shed tears of joy on that first morning (usually in June) where I leave the apartment for the bus at 6:30 AM and it is already HOT! I'm not talking about the kind of thing that happened today, where you can tell that it is going to eventually get hot. I'm talking about the kind of day where you walk out your door super early and you're already dying in the heat. You know you don't stand a chance against it because you know it is only going to get hotter as the day wears on.

This is MY time of year!!!!

Second Time's A Charm

You know the idiot colleague I referred to in my last post?

Well, I went to work today to discover that she had not only committed the supremely stupid thing once, but twice. She came forward today with her tail between her legs to admit to me that she had done the same thing in regards to a student not in my homeroom. It had gone unnoticed because the teacher in whose homeroom this student is enrolled, is out, and so the substitute never would have known.

Clearly she was trying to take things over our heads and was not counting on getting busted.

I know I'm being very cloak and dagger here. But please.

Re-do.

I just deleted a post that I wrote last night. It dealt with the subject of work. Although I used no names, and nobody at work knows of my blog, I thought it might have been too much information.

Just suffice it to say that, once again, I am feeling saddled and extremely put upon by the incompetence of the resource room "teacher" who "services" my special education students.

It is such a farce.

Ahhhh....

We've been noticing that our bed isn't very comfortable lately. Actually, it has been quite crappy for a good long while. But who the hell has the cash lying around to go out and buy a really good mattress? Not us. Well, we didn't think we did, anyway. But then we remembered our wedding money. Yeah, we did get married just about a year ago. And no, we haven't spent any of our wedding gift money.

So...for all of you who were generous enough to gift us with cash for our wedding...thanks, you've just bought us a very comfortable, very cool tempurdedic mattress.

We're hoping it is as great to own as it was to lounge on in the store.

We tried the regular, much less expensive mattresses, but we just kept coming back to the tempurpedic. And so, after much discussion and justification for such a large purchase, we decided to take the plunge.

While we were at it, we picked up a platform bed frame that will support the mattress without the box spring. We can't wait!

SSSSShhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!

Sometimes it is really hard for things to remain, as Lauren would say, "all secret squirrel." Most times, you actually want to know what people are keeping from you. I guess that's just par for the course in human nature. I mean, really, who likes not knowing what's going on?



But honestly, it seems that NOT finding out what goes on in the newly released Sex and the City movie is virtually impossible. I mean, every single one of those stupid entertainment shows is running stories about it. It's all over the internet. It was even the lead-in story on msn.com yesterday! And in the biggest shocker of all, there was a review of it on NPR last night! I make haste to switch the channel, because we all know that "review" is just a euphamism (or however the Christ you spell this word) for "movie spoiler."

So, everything from the actual movie images showing Carrie in a wedding gown, from the ceaseless "reviews" of the movie on the TV, radio and internet, have all but given the entire plot away.

But will I still go see the movie?

Bet your ass I will!!

Mmmmmmm...........

Delicious wine. Try it.

Crisp. Smooth. Citrus-y.

Excellent at ten dollars a bottle.

Get thee to your local packie.

Things Heard in the Teachers' Staff Room

Remember how, when you were a kid, you used to wonder if the teachers were talking about the kids during lunch? Eventually you'd convince yourself that the teachers would never do such a thing. Besides, didn't they have more interesting things to discuss?

The truth of the matter is that we absolutely do spend our entire lunch time (all 22 minutes of it) discussing our students.

I like to think that even though we sometimes vent about the less savory moments of the day, we still respect our students and have their best interests in mind. In short, our conversation is not malicious gossip, but rather mild venting, or problem solving to make the situation better.

I have a new student. He just arrived today. He has led a very difficult life. To say the least.

I found out about this boy's arrival when I walked into school this morning. He was there with his mom and his many siblings, and the principal introduced me to him and his mother. One of my colleauges, an obnoxious kindergarten teacher, had the audacity to say, "Boy....what a pain in the neck to get a new one at this point in the year," right in front of the kid and his mother. I did a quick damage control by turning to the boy and saying, "I'm really happy to have you here."

What a jerk, right?

Eventually I took my leave of the office to head up to my classroom to prepare for the day. The hideous kindergarten teacher, in spite of the fact that she will have no contact with this incoming 8th grader, lurked around the office listening to the rest of the conversation between the principal and the mother. I could not figure out why the principal didn't invite the woman into her office and close the door. It seemed clear to me that the woman was trying to be discreet.

So at any rate, the day gets under way and this young man ends up in my homeroom. He seemed like a nice enough kid; I'm sure it was difficult for him to turn up in late May as a member of our graduating class. He confided some pretty awful stuff in me. Enough to give me a snapshot about his incredibly difficult life.

Whatever.

Later at lunch, the kindergarten teacher who had been lurking in the office raced into the teachers' room, bursting at the seams with information to share. She launched into a rant about this kid and his family, revealing issues of a very sensitive nature in a loud bellow in front of a room full of people. I don't really care that she was sharing the news with my 7th and 8th grade colleagues we are all actually teaching the kid. But she was broadcasting these details to a bunch of people who have no reason to know them. Not to mention....the woman has no reason to know these things.

I did not allow her rant to last very long. I eventually put my hand up to silence her and reminded her that each and every student is entitled to "tabula rasa" status when they come to our school. We will give this young man the respect and dignity he deserves and do the best work that we can for him in these last 18 days of school.

I was really annoyed. This was not a useful FYI informational session with the guidance counselor or principal or somebody else whose responsibility it is to see to the well being of this young person. This was a malicious, gossip-spreading dog and pony show put on my some waste of oxygen who should really never have been allowed to stand before a class.

The funny thing is this...

There have been lots of times where I've wondered whether I've effectively taught the material in any given lesson, or whether this or that lesson tanked. However, when I think about the way some teachers treat the kids, with a complete lack of regard for their humanity, I realize that I'm doing pretty damn well by these kids. I try my best to teach them the skills they need, but more importantly, I think, is the fact that I actually try to extend a bit of kindness to them and let them know that somebody in their life cares about them.

Memorial Day Weekend...A Time to Remember Fashion Trends Long Forgotten

We celebrated Memorial Day Weekend in New Hampshire, at the much written-about cabin. As per usual, conversation and beer flowed freely and a good time was had by all.

On Sunday we decided to take a hike. We opted to go to Cherry Mountain. The experience on this mountain just reinforced my belief that the first hike of the season should not be a trek straight up a relentless trail to the top of a mountain. Granted, most hiking does involve some elevation gain, and I have never been opposed to a little physical exertion out there on the trail. It just seems that one should ease one's ass (and back, hips, quads, calfs, hamstrings, etc.) into the hiking season on a more gentle, even ambling stroll through the woods. I have no qualms with a long distance hike, or a hike that takes several hours to complete. But this 90 degree push to the top of a mountain has never been my exact idea of a cup of tea. Again, the fact that this was my first official hike in months only served to further complicate the matter.

By the time we reached the top of the thing, I was dying. In fact, I think I was close to tears a few times as I would reach the top of what I thought might be the peak, only to see miles more uphill trail stretched out before me as far as the eye could see.

The real reason for this post, though, is this...

On our way to Cherry Mountain, we stopped off at the store to pick up some water and a few snacks. The young, twenty-something year-old woman manning the register was sporting a look that was so clearly a throw-back to 1984 that I almost fell over when I saw her.

She was rocking the pleated acid washed jeans (and yeah, they were pegged and tucked into her socks!) and the tassled acid washed waist-length jean jacket. I thought I had seen it all until she turned to get a bag for our purchases. On the back of her jacket, she had a huge Tweety Bird decal, with her name (Stefani) airbrushed in glittery rainbow itallic font!

OH MY GOD!!!

Even Stephen, who has the fashion observatory skills of our good friend, Stevie Wonder, noticed that strange things were afoot at Mac's Supermarket. He was asking me silently with his eyes, "Is this as bad as I think it is." I just nodded in the affirmative and we headed out to the car, where we both just sat in contemplative silence for a moment or two.

The funny thing is this....

In small town America, the time warp in fashion and music seems to be the norm. Aren't these people watching TV and seeing the latest fashion trends? Do they not know that the rest of the country has moved beyond the piggyback perm?

Or maybe they are watching TV, but the local affiliates of the major networks are still airing "Full House" as the prime time fare. Maybe they think the Michelle Tanner is current and that the is setting the up to the moment fashion trends?

Anyway, I'm not sure what's happening there, but it is strange!!!!

OK, enough of that...



I HAVE to know what happens at the end of the book "Wicked."

My good friend gave it to me for Christmas. I tried to get through it. No, that's an understatement. I made a heroic effort to get through it. I got all the way to page 274. But the talking animals and kingdoms and evil spells are all just deal-breakers to me. I'm not a fantasy person, you see.

But here's the thing, I MUST know how Elphaba, who seems to be quite nice in the book, turns Wicked, and how Galinda, who seems like a shallow jerk, turns out to be good. Can anybody shed any light??

Yearbook Jitters.

I am the yearbook advisor to the 8th grade class. Well, let me rephrase that....the advisorship to the yearbook committee just kind of fell into my lap. There was an official club, separately funded, for the yearbook. A guy was the advisor, and he was being paid to do it.

Several weeks ago, the guy approached me and said, "Would you think about taking over the yearbook committee?" I tried to run as far away from that one as I could. Turns out the guy was leaving the kids, and would no longer be their yearbook advisor. So, the kids were officially in a lurch.

This is my first year with a grade 8 homeroom. How could I say no? So, I accepted the job, but on my own terms. I refused the pay, first and foremost. You might call me crazy, but here's my thinking...

The official yearbook meetings were taking place on Fridays until 5:00 PM. No way in HELLS am I interested in staying around until that late hour on a Friday afternoon. I have to get to the gym, and more importantly, start my weekend. Damn, cuz!

So, I figured if I were doing this on a volunteer basis, I could name my own hours and not be compelled to fulfill any time requirement, or stay on any specific day. Whatever.

What I didn't know when I reluctantly agreed to take on this project is that they had decided to do a digital yearbook. No paper. Just CDs to be distributed to to the kids at the end of year.

WTF????

As if I have ANY CLUE as to how to put this thing together.

I called the tech guy for the district, and he happily agreed to come and help me. Apparently the yearbook will be composed through a program called Microsoft Movie Maker. Seriously, folks, has anybody ever tried to use this thing? Let me just tell ya....it's impossible! I can figure out stuff on my Mac, but this world of PC is just a mystery to me. I scan pictures and save them, and then have no idea in Christ where they are when I go to find them in the computer to fill into the program.

Luckily some of the kids know how to use this thing, but still....

Is is right that I have more end-of-year anxiety than the kids in my class???

I mean, really, though. a CD yearbook!!!

This Must Be True Love

I have a great husband. There are big and little things that he does on a daily basis that make me realize how lucky I am to have him in my life.

If I don't feel well, he puts everything aside to take care of me.

He joins me in watching Jeopardy every single night, even though he hates the show.

He never, ever complains when I'm up crashing around the apartment getting ready a full hour before he even needs to get out of bed.

I can't remember a time that he has ever gotten angry at me or said anything even remotely unkind to me.

However....(and you knew the "however" was coming), I can't believe some of the crap that he likes. Crappy science fiction movies. Bullshit fantasy movies. I mean, he doesn't watch that much of this junk, but please, even one second of it is too much. At the video store, if I see any movie with dragons, castles or wizards on the cover, I retreat to the other corner of the store...even as Stephen is moving closer to take a more in-depth look.

The fact that I will even be in the same apartment as this crap when it is playing on the TV must speak to the true love that I feel for my husband.

Because kids, make no mistakes, if this were anything less than love, I'd be having NO part of it.

That said, I really don't actively participate in it. I just either type away on the computer, read in the other room, or busy myself elsewhere and with some other task.