Idioms, idioms

8th grade girl talk in Advisory:  bring on the sass.

Student A (in reference to an upset student): "Poor thing."  

Student B: "THING!?!  OMG.  You can't call a girl a thing!!" 

Mrs. Malik:  "Poor thing just means pobrecita."  

Student B:  "Ohhhhh.  I was gonna say!!"

Dracula hates Snapchat more than I do!

Fiiiiinally grading those Dracula tests.

Directions:  You are Dracula and have been a vampire for over 100 years.  Give some advice to a new vampire on what he or she should do or not do.  Write at least 5 sentences.

"Stay away from garlic, steak, and crosses.  Don't do an Instagram or Snapchat."


No red meat OR social media!  :)

No Edward Cullen here.

From my vampire-loving, Twilight-obsessed 10th grader:

"You live in Washington?"
"Yes.  Last year."
"You go to Forks?"
"What?" (Am I forgetting a suburb?  Fort something?  Those words do sound similar.)
"Forks."
"Ohhhh.  I lived in the capital, Washington, D.C.  That's where the President lives.  Washington state is on the other side of the United States, near California."
(Supreme disappointment.)  "Oh."
"There aren't any vampires in Washington, D.C.  But we do have monster politicians!"

Sorry to let you down.  Again.  Two weeks ago I refused to show Twilight as an addition to our Dracula unit.

Gothic/Horror Stories

My high school class is reading Dracula, and to accompany our reading, we are composing our own Gothic/horror stories.  My students have great ideas.  I don't actually like being scared, but they do, and they've taken to the task with great passion.  They might not be turning in their homework still, but all 16 students have a rough draft that creeps me out.  We are in the final phases of editing, and I've offered some help to students who've sought it.  There are the normal rounds of editing:
"'I' must be capitalized.  No exceptions."  "But Miss...  It's too hard."
"You do not need to hit enter for every sentence.  That does not count toward your minimum one page."
"A two-paged story should have more than one paragraph."
"You're in 9th grade.  Do you know how to use a period?  Obviously not." (Ok, ok. I was a bit more kind than that.)

But I also love the errors due to second language acquisition.
"Her stomach grumbled."  It was annoyed from a lack of food.
"It was a dark and stormy nighty."  This could get interesting.  Keep it PG-13, folks.
(fighting off the zombies) "yaa. im to good."  Where to start?  How does one gently critique that?
"Ultra mission ! Now his job is in hospital to bring “Mega medicine” back to company . Doctor ,nurse, security guard , FBI them all zombie ! " I love my Thai exchange student.

I hope one of them wins the Halloween story contest sponsored by our library. Can you win in spite of grammar?

"It is not my ability, but my response to God’s ability, that counts."
— Corrie ten Boom

Summertime Snack

Shaun often teases me about my weird eating habits.  If he's not here and in need of a meal (MEAT!), I will just graze all day.  If I'm busy, sometimes I forget to eat, and them remember when I realize I'm really cranky.

Last week I threw together some of my fridge and discovered a delicious snack.  Baby peppers, string cheese, and fresh basil.

Slice the string cheese into small bites (I usually split it 4 ways), stuff into the peppers, and add basil.  Broil until the cheese gets soft but the peppers aren't burned (5-10 min.).

YUM.

Wait, what?

At the time of my last post, I was a 4th grade ESOL teacher in Northern Virginia, battling traffic and work stress, and trying to find my groove as a newlywed.

Lots has changed since then.  State, city, home, jobs, and daily life.  Just a couple of things.

Sometime last year we decided to high tail it out of DC before it's intensity and costliness broke us.  We made a list of places that might be fun to live and Shaun went job hunting.  We decided only one of us needed a job to make a move.  I figured I could probably find a teaching job in most cities, but Shaun's industry is more specialized, so we focused on him.

Fast forward to June.  I finished school on a Friday.  My parents drove up Saturday to lend their expertise in packing.  On Sunday I called in every moving debt I had (I think I've moved most of the Northern Virginia area in the last 5 years) and our awesome friends had us packed in just a few hours.  We crammed (I mean CRAMMED.  I wish I had a photo.) everything into a 16-foot truck and we hit the road west.  Shaun listened to the first Harry Potter twice, while I happily listened to my spy thrillers poking along behind the truck in my own car.

Four days and 1700 miles later we arrived in Denver.  Since then it's been a whirlwind of unpacking re-packing and moving apartments, job hunting, entertaining guests, and finally settling into a new life.  Stay posted!

Oh yeah. I have a blog.

Last week my sister re-entered the blogging world after a few months off.  And like any good little sister, I figured I should follow suit.  Why, you ask?  Well maybe you didn't ask, but I'm going to tell you anyway.

I like having a place to write down my thoughts.  I don't journal, so a blog is a place to share some musings and funny teaching stories.  I regularly have an internal dialogue about sharing and over-sharing on social media.  So instead of continuing to judge all those people, I'm joining in and hoping that I can be wise with my words.  More on that later.

Also, I am a bit of a techie nerd.  Over the last couple of years I've had the opportunity to get geeky at school though an iPad and a teacher technology cohort.  My students made all kinds of videos, avatars, slideshows, and even a video game in an effort to help them get engaged in learning and become more computer literate.  I love exploring new websites and dreaming of ways to make them useful.  Technology as a means has great potential.  As an end, it is wasteful.  I don't really use this blog for educational purposes, but it keeps me connected to a broader world than my current circles.

Finally it's summer.  And I have time.  I will probably post a handful of posts and then go a little crazy when a new school year starts.  So enjoy it while you can!

The Amazing Adventures of Snakewoman

Transcription (because the handwriting hasn't improved much from his loin project last year):
The Amazing Adventures of Snakewomen (Part 1)
On summer vacation Mrs. Malik went to the rainforest.  She saw amazing animals but one night she went to sleep in the rain forest.  In the tent a scaly slithery thing slithered in.  A viper pit bited Mrs. Malik.  On the morning she didn't notice anything, but in school everyone saw Mrs. Malik differently.  She had a scaly body.  Then she noticed she was half snake and half human.

to be continued


(Part 2/2)
When Mrs. Malik got home that day she used everything to get rid of the scales but nothing worked.  So after that she was [watching] the news then she saw a villen (villain) destroying the city.  When she went downtown she saw the guy.  He was faster than a speeding waistband more powerful than boxer shorts (a nod to the Captain Underpants series).  He tired to stop her but Mrs. Malik was faster than a speeding scooter more powerful than metal.  After she stopped the bad guy, she called herself Snake Women.  She had two jobs now: an ELL teacher and a hero.  She was happy.

THE END.

Oh THAT meaning

Once upon a time a fellow fourth grade teacher was approached by a new, VERY limited English student.

He said, "Give me rubbers!"  His teacher's eyes bugged out, and she hollered for an Amharic-speaking classmate.  "WHAT does he want?!?!," always fearing the worst of 4th grade boys.  Translation from Amharic to English.  "Um, he needs an eraser."

British English.  Gets ya every time.

p.s.  Brownie points if you knew Amharic was the official language of Ethiopia.  Bonus brownie points if you can name the country (and/or language) directly to the north that gained its independence from Ethiopia in 1991.  WITHOUT using Wikipedia or Google!  (I have several students from this country too.)

Welcome back

Tomorrow is the first day of school.  As a teacher I interact with dozens of children each school year.  We just got word that my elementary school has hit the 800-mark for enrollment.  That is a LOT of students.  I attended two elementary schools which had 175 and 200 students each, so my current school population baffles me sometimes.  Students can have one of eight kindergarten teachers and then end up knowing only a handful of students in their first grade class after they've been shuffled around.

On Friday, students and their parents came to school for a few hours to meet their new teachers and see their classrooms.  After a quiet week at school, I loved hearing the walls echo with the sounds of high pitched voices.  My favorite part of the morning though, was being able to greet the students by name.

My first year of teaching I stood in the lobby of the school, armed with class lists and eager to assist anyone who needed it.  I didn't know anyone, much less the names and rooms of the classroom teachers.  I was fairly useless short of a welcoming smile.

This year I knew many of the students and parents who walked through the door.  I unfortunately forgot a handful of names I should have known, but it filled me with joy to greet most of them by name.  I could ask about their summers, their new baby brother, if they were ready for 1st, 2nd, or 5th grade.  And I received many, many hugs.

I am filled with hope and anticipation for the school year ahead.  For the relationships to be formed and the opportunity to get to know these students.  Teachers often spend more time with students than their parents are able to.  That is a humbling thought and a huge responsibility-- I have the ability to help mold these young lives.

Whether you are in a classroom, a cubicle, or at the grocery store, do you take the time to value the people you interact with and the influence you can share?

“Dear Sir: Regarding your article 'What's Wrong with the World?' I am. Yours truly,” 
--G.K. Chesterton

I tend to have a VERY long-winded answer to that question.  Mean drivers on the Beltway, my neighbor whose cigarette-infused apartment insults greets me every day, interminably slow clerks at the store, red lights, Capitol Hill, Westboro Baptist, the cost of gas in Northern VA, and my current supply of chocolate in the pantry. 

When everyone and every thing comes to mind first, I find myself trying to blame them.  Moi?  There are MANY things far worse than me.

This perspective makes a mockery of the Gospel.  If we claim that we've never sinned, we out-and-out contradict God—make a liar out of him. A claim like that only shows off our ignorance of God (1 John 1:10, The Message).  A claim like that makes me look foolish and does not accurately portray God's character.

Instead I need to have the conviction of Paul who writes in 1 Tim 1:15, "Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners-- of whom I am the worst."

If I am the worst of sinners, I am in desperate need of a Savior.  Unless I live a life wholly dependent on Christ and his gift of the cross, my life is hypocritical and wasted.  I don't want to become complacent with the story of how Christ died for me.  I want to daily recognize my need for Him and cling to his mercy and grace.



Note:  While the validity of this quote is of some question, the message makes it worthwhile for me, so I'm choosing to ignore the fact that there is no evidence Chesterton wrote this.

Dads

Dads are good at teaching you things.

Dads teach you how to ski.  In style.

Dads teach you how to sleep when its noisy (I've mastered this skill).

Dads teach you the value of homemade ice cream.

Dads impart their awesome music skills.  Ok, or perhaps just their appreciation of music.

Sometimes LOTS of music.

Dads teach you to love.

Dads teach you to enjoy the simple things.

Thanks Dad!

Haikus

She is a teacher
She has pretty blue eyes and brown hair
She is very nice

Ok, so she might have missed the seven syllable count in line two, but I don't much care!  :)

4th grade boy's worst nightmare

Today I invited a couple of boys to eat lunch with me.  When girls eat lunch with me, we gab.  We talk about boys, clothes, and more boys.  When boys join me for lunch, we discuss Nerf guns, low riders, full tackle football, and slimy things.  One boy mentioned that he reeeeeally wanted to see the inside of a stomach and a heart.

I explained that in high school science class he would get to dissect a frog.  In middle school I even got to dissect a squid.  My 7th grade teacher was so kind as to fry up some squid for us to sample after we finished poking the eyeballs and stomach.

"Like, did she serve you the testicles?" one boy inquired. 

His eyes bugged out.  "I mean, TENTACLES!!!!!!!!!"

Damage done.  Try shaking that one off.  Yeah, not so much.

Rehearsal Dinner III

McDonald's and Grasses student presented me with this during hall duty this morning.  Ideas for my wedding:

Rehearsal Dinner Help II

Still looking for a restaurant.  The student with the helpful suggestion of McDonald's spends Tuesday afternoons in my classroom while his younger brother participates in after-school chorus.  Said student usually does homework or plays games on the computer.  Noting my laptop with a restaurant website pulled up, he asked if I was still looking for a place.  Yes.

"You have many classes (rooms) in your house?  Or you have short classes?"
"Well, no.  I live in a small house.  And I am getting married in Richmond."
"Oh.  You have big field at the church?  With lots of grasses?"
"There is some grass.  What should we eat?"
"Hmm.  Maybe turkey.  Or something."

I need to hire him as my event planner.

Rehearsal Dinner Help

I sighed in frustration, reading an email from Mom informing me that yet another restaurant was unavailable for the rehearsal dinner.  As I sat down to start my pull-out class (5 rambunctious beginning English 4th graders), they asked me what was wrong.

"Well, when people get married in America, they usually have a big dinner the night before the wedding.  The restaurant I wanted is not available."

"Oh.  Well, what about McDonald's?" a helpful student asked.

"Yeah.  Grown ups don't even need toys," another replied.

Thanks for the suggestion guys!

"We're going to study some new suffixes today.  The first one we're going to learn is -ful."
"WAFFLE!!!!!!!!!"

Wellllllll.  Thank you English language, for having an exception to everything!

 

 

Romance and Sacrifice

I was talking with a co-worker today about America's view on money, its sense of entitlement, and sacrifice.  I was reminded of this story and what a beautiful and wise picture it presents of all three ideas.

In My Shoes: A golden moment for silver aniversary

By Beckey Watson

Twenty-five years is a long time to be married.
We had been dreaming of ways to celebrate our silver anniversary — a cruise, a trip abroad — but as we grew older, our family grew larger, our savings smaller, and a simpler plan evolved.
We would spend a weekend at a bed and breakfast. And we devised a sort of trivia game to review our years together and test our memories. This would be our gift, a walk down 25 years of memory lane.
So on our anniversary celebration weekend, we set out for our destination, the historic Henry Clay Inn in Ashland. We walked across the street from the inn to have dinner at the Iron Horse Restaurant. We ordered wine, then dinner, and after a toast to ourselves we started asking each other trivia questions about our life together. We took our time, each stumped on one or two, realizing that 25 years was indeed a long time. I finished asking all my questions, and he asked the last one.
"What is the longest I've ever been able to keep a secret?" he asked me.
"Five minutes!" I shot back quickly. (I'm married to a man who has given me a birthday present early because he couldn't wait after it arrived in the mail.)
But seeing his slightly hurt look, I amended my answer to 24 hours, thinking I was being generous.
"You're wrong," he said, "the answer is five years."
I was shocked and a bit unsettled. My mind raced. What could he have kept from me for five years?
He handed me a velvet pouch. Inside was the most beautiful diamond ring I had ever seen. And I had seen it once before.
It had been shortly after our 20th wedding anniversary. We went to the jewelers to pick up a watch that was being repaired. While waiting, my eye caught this lovely diamond ring. I gasped; I said it was just the kind of ring I would love were I the kind of wife that craved diamonds. The gold filigree setting was intricate, the five diamonds in a row were modest. It fit perfectly on my finger. It was on sale.
My husband tempted me to get it, but I gave him plenty of reasons to put it back in the case: We didn't have the extra money. Twenty is a great anniversary, but we never purchase gifts. Something that special should be saved for a silver or gold anniversary.
I can tell you honestly, after I took off that ring and gave it back to the sales clerk, it left my mind. I knew it wasn't meant to be. We left the jewelers with the repaired watch.
I would recall later that after arriving home, my husband went back out to run an errand. But I didn't know he did something much, much more.
He called the jewelers, and they agreed to help him with an extreme layaway program. He scrimped on lunches, used money from his birthday cards or an occasional bonus from work. He never charged a dime on a credit card. He paid it off, and the real challenge began. He put it in his sock drawer. For years!
He then carried the ring in his pocket as we set off on our silver anniversary weekend. And then he finally, finally , gave it to me at dinner.
Yes, I remembered the ring instantly. It fit perfectly on my hand. I still think it's the most beautiful and unique ring I've ever seen.
I sat there in the restaurant ignoring a perfectly good meal while his tale unfolded. I cried. He cried. I kept repeating over and over, "I can't believe you did that!"
I couldn't imagine that anyone would have the strength to keep such a secret from me, our parents and children, neighbors and co-workers for five years.
Our budget was never compromised, although he made many personal sacrifices to accomplish his goal. I didn't protest that he shouldn't have; I accepted it for the beautiful gift it was meant to be.
But the wonderment of what he had done for me was the true gift. My husband had managed to wrap up every example of our 25 years of marriage in the gift of the ring — commitment, perseverance, sacrifice, love and beauty.
It was more than a diamond ring. It was like holding his heart in the palm of my hand.

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