Wordless Wednesday: Possessed Dogs

Honey Bear and Ruby

GBE2: Work

This week's GBE2 writing topic is work. For better or worse, here's my take on it:

For over twenty-five years, I've taught intellectually gifted kids in an affluent suburb of Memphis. I've seen dramatic changes in what and how I teach since the eighties. Don't get me wrong, the kids are great other than the fact that they never grow older. They will always be around nine or ten even though I've aged twenty-five years. Yet their parents have grown younger. When I first started teaching parents were old people, so how did they get so young? Scary!

As for gifted curriculum, it used to be if the kids were happy, the parents were happy, and administration was happy too. I only was responsible for meeting the IEP goals which I wrote. Not anymore. It's all about test scores and achievement.

Gone are the days of paper-mache´ puppet shows, fancy tooth pick bridges, or spending 100,000 fictional dollars on the stock market. Today, teaching is all about curriculum. My math lessons follow closely to what the classroom teacher is doing yet tougher. I teach reading lessons, with reading groups that cover novels. At least they still let me pick my novels–sorta. We have a list of board approved books.

I still love my time with the kids, but I miss egg drop competitions that plummeted raw eggs with goofy faces and silly names down shoots into kid designed landing pads. I can do some of the fun stuff, but by golly I better find an SPI objective before I do.

I used to start each class with a Shel Silverstein poem; now, I begin with Daily Grammar Practice. Sounds awful, but it's not bad. The kids' ability to diagram complex sentences is even impressive.

But teaching means unbelievable pressure. We've heard of teachers cheating to raise their students' test scores. I certainly don't condone this behavior nor would I ever cheat on a test; but honestly, I understand where this is coming from. It doesn't matter if you have a Doctorate degree or how long you've been teaching, it's getting to the point that your students better show growth or you could be out of a job.  Do you know of any other profession where a person's bread and butter is dependent on fickle kids?

In Tennessee, every public school teacher has a minimum of three (was supposed to be four) evaluations every year. These evaluations involve massive time commitments and paper work as administrators who are stretched thin enter classrooms to watch us teach. Plus, the same folks are scouring over value added scores. This is a comparison of students' growth on tests from year to year. Mind you, I teach gifted. This means that even though my students' test scores are already in the upper nineties, I need to show growth! However, when it comes to other measures of student achievement, I'm scored on the performance of the entire school. Ie., kids I don't even teach.

Please remember, I love the kids! I love the delight when they understand something new. And I love hearing them laugh when I inject humor into my lessons. However, I'm ready to retire because I'm tired. Typically, I arrive at school between 7:15 and 7:30 and leave sometime between 5:00 and 6:00 in the evening. Many times, I bring my work home with me once I leave. Sure I just had two weeks of vacation, but I spent several hours of it completing special education report cards, writing IEPs, making flip charts for my Promethean board, grading writing, and re-reading chapters for discussion this week. Unfortunately, the pressure on us is so intense that the fun has evaporated. In fact, when my college age daughter took a career placement test to help her find a major, the counselor said, "Be a teacher."

I said, "Don't you dare!" Those who are eligible to retire are doing so in mass... and this is supposed to improve education? What has the government done to my profession? I know my teachers from the 60s and 70s never worked as hard as I do nor did they get blamed when I misbehaved. We are one of the most disrespected professions and have even been blamed for the weak economy because we have too many benefits. I pay for my insurance, and it's not cheap!

November 1, 2017, that's when I'll be eligible to retire... unless our lovely legislators raise the retirement age.

Silly Sunday: Basketball Poles

Pau Gasol - LA Lakers

Rhonda's Silly Sunday pops up quickly (especially when I post by 4:00 on Saturday) and if you're like me, you need something to laugh at on Sunday because Monday comes next. This week will be particularly painful because it ends my vacation.

Watching the Memphis Grizzlies blast the Houston Rockets on Friday night reminded me of a story from years ago.

My husband stood in line at McDonalds in front of NBA basketball player Pau Gasol. At seven feet tall and 250 pounds, one would think he'd be hard to miss; however, a woman cut in front of him in line.

Pau was too polite to say anything so my husband nudged the lady and said, "You just cut in line."

She looked at him and said, "I thought that was a pole."

 For more laughs, check out Silly Sunday links at Laugh Quotes.

Writer's Post: Out With The Old & In With The New

I love Back to the Future movies. Remember when Doc Brown visited thirty years into the future - 2015 - three years from now? He got a total blood and cell replacement and looked just like the Doc Brown of 1985. I'm still searching for that transplant clinic, along with those hover boards, so I can be out with the old and in with the new.

Back to the Future II

Instead, I look thirty years older than I did in 1982... and so does Christopher Lloyd. So if we can't throw out our tired bodies and get new ones, what are we supposed to do? Yeah, I know diet and exercise. I could grow flowers with that broken promise.

Sometimes old is special. After all, I was sorry to see my old dog die, even though I am now in love with an energetic young one. I have my favorite old coffee mugs, and I like old jeans rather than buying new ones made to look old. Why must we always say, "Out with the old and in with the new" come New Year's? Can't we just cuddle up in our old pjs with our old dogs on our saggy laps?

Besides, who says new is better? I have old kids and I'd keep them over your crying infants any day of the week! So out with the old and in with the new– :p. Unless you can find me Doc Brown's blood and cell transfer clinic, I'm not interested.

GBE2: Free Write

This week's GBE2 prompt is called "free write." That means we're supposed to pop out our random thoughts onto the computer without worrying about how stupid it sounds or what boring dribble comes out. Hey! I've got a reputation to keep up.

Boring Clip Art found within 15 min.

In preparation, I had to find a timer. I searched the internet and my widgets only to remember that I already have a cool one that will bark after fifteen minutes. This ought to be fun because my dogs react to barking. In a mere twelve minutes, their furry heads will pop up and they'll look around for a nonexistent dog. However, I won't be able to write about their reaction because my writing time will be up. Sucks for you.

As for now, my kids have a movie on the TV that I could care less about. Which is probably good because if I paid attention they'd be embarrassed. I don't know what's embarrassing about watching movies with your parents. The movie is called "No Strings Attached." I think Ashton Kutcher and Natalie Portman had some kind of sex affair. Maybe it's good that I'm not paying attention if they are bedding it up. Don't worry--my kids are adults, so I'm not a totally awful parent. Kevin Klein is also in this movie. He went to my high school... for about a year, but I never knew him because he's old.

Back on topic: The problem with free write, is that the trash that comes out on the keyboard won't be anything that folks will want to read. And if by some chance you care to read my worthless ramble, I probably won't want to read yours. No offense, but I like posts that are short and focused. With that in mind, I'll spend my last seven minutes revising this post so that it's not totally boring because I have a reputation to keep up. If I publish junk, no one will care to CATCH MY WORDS.

P.S. Ruby's head popped up as she looked for the dog. It was amusing.

Silly Sunday: How I Used My Underwear to Get Healthy

It's not Sunday or even that close but I figure some of you might be busy if I waited to post at my usual time, so here goes early. Besides, it's Sunday in New Zealand where Rhonda starts her Silly Sunday at Laugh Quotes.

 Back in October I injured my knee while running and had to go to physical therapy. One of the many exercises my therapist assigned was the "penguin walk." This involves putting a band around the ankles and taking side steps. Unfortunately, he forgot to give me the band.




So I improvised. I have a pair of elastic underwear that have quite a bit of stretch in them. These came in handy when doing the penguin walk.

If that isn't silly on a Sunday, nothing is.

If you need more silliness than using underwear to exercise, hop over to Rhonda's Silly Sunday.

Wordless Wednesday: My First Contest

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#GBE2: Curiosity/Wonder and After Life

As a little girl, I kept seeing these huge wads of toilet paper in the bathroom trashcan each month and couldn't figure out what they were. So one day, I reached into the garbage and opened one to see for myself. Scared the snot out of me!

Maybe curiosity is not such a good thing, after all it killed the cat. Plus there is the old "ignorance is bliss" phrase too. None the less, I've always been intrigued by death. I wonder what happens when we die? Where do we go? or...Will we come back in a reincarnated form? The only true way to find out is to die, and I'm not that curious. I am, however, sure we're never totally gone because the body is made of energy and energy can never be destroyed. It only changes form; scientifically a part of us will always remain on Earth.

None the less, I believe in reincarnation and karma. For example, as a teacher, I must have done something horrendous in my past life. I have a theory that my current and past students belonged to villages that I sacked and burned, and they continuously get their karmic pay back on me every year. That's the history of everyone in the teaching profession because why else would we suffer such abuse?

But the barbarian's life must have been an old, old existence because back in college, a hypnotist captivated us kids in a journey to our past lives to observe what we had experienced. I was an African American slave and knowing myself, it makes sense. Although I'm white, I've always gotten along well with black people and feel a natural chemistry with African Americans who I've worked with or have had the pleasure of being around. Also, I instinctively have a terrible fear of authority figures and hate wearing turtle necks or anything tight around my neck or wrists. I've even experienced anxiety and had to look away upon seeing someone with something bound tightly around their neck. Yep! I was probably bound, shackled, and eventually hung. In my mind, hanging would be the worst way to die.

What? You don't believe this? Fine. I'll prove it to you in the next life. And by the way, a friend of ours visited a hypnotist who told her she was Queen Isabella in a past life. As a result, she has apologized for the way she had treated Jews.

Silly Sunday: Jokes

Every Sunday, my good friend and former college roommate Rhonda sponsors Silly Sunday over at Laugh Quotes. If I could ever figure out how to make linky things work, I'd link it up. Never fear, you can read more jokes by heading over there. Here are a few jokes I've been telling for years.

Three boys had a contest to see who could throw a brick the highest. The first boy tosses the brick into the air. It flies high and comes down. The second little guy throws the brick into the air, it soars even higher then tumbles to the ground. Now the third boy, he stretches, swings his arms, and throws the brick so high that it never comes down.

☺☺☺☺☺☺

Two morons meet each other while walking down the street. The first one says, "Hey! If you can tell me how many chickens I have in this bag, I'll give you both of them."

"Three!"

"No fair! You peeked."

☺☺☺☺☺☺

A man and woman were fighting while riding on a train. The man smoked a cigar while the woman held a yappy dog.

"Put that noxious cigar out. I can't breathe in here," the woman said.

 "Well, I can't think with that annoying mutt's nonstop yelping!"

 "He's barking because he doesn't like the smell of your smoke!"

This scene went on and on until another passenger stood up and said, "Stop it! I can't stand the cigar, the dog, nor your constant bickering." He then grabbed the dog and the cigar and tossed them both out the window.

When the passengers arrived at the station, the dog was waiting. Can you guess what he had in his mouth?


  

Wait for it.....

A little longer

  

                     

I know the suspense is killing you.

So I'll just have to just tell you.

A Brick

☺☺☺☺☺☺

Writer's Post: Holiday Traditions

Ever wonder what Jews do on Christmas? Years ago we escaped to Cancuun, but unfortunately this didn't become our holiday tradition. After all, traditions must happen yearly.

Then there were the years we dined on Chinese food, since these are the only restaurants open on Christmas Eve. This too did not become our holiday tradition because we don't do this consistently every year.

Starry Nights

If tradition means doing something annually, it looks like we've found one. For the past three years or so, we've spent Christmas Eve freezing our butts off working the Christmas light show at Shelby Farms. Although we're in the south where one can wear T-Shirts in early December, something happens around December 24th as the temperature drops that one night we're working outside. It's our own slice of h*ll, but it's only fair since we don't have to lug heavy trees into our dens or risk our lives on ladders while hanging Christmas lights.

We have our own holiday that doesn't ask for much: Hannukkah, Channuka, Hanukkah, Chanukah. We celebrate the miracle of one bottle of oil lasting eight days. I have Crisco in my pantry that's lasted anywhere from eight months to eight years. Maybe we should celebrate it too... or throw it out. Actually, the oil might be one of the younger items in our closet. Which reminds me of my mother.

Mom had a lonely pickle in a jar sleeping in the back of our fridge for years.  My friends and I used to entertain ourselves by going through her refrigerator and laughing at the mold. Who knows? Maybe something in her fridge was from the holidays.

Wordless Wednesday: Falling Prices?

Silly Sunday: Teacher Blunder

Time again for Silly Sunday over at Laugh Quotes!

You may wonder what kind of teacher I am. To sum it up, I fit the poem about the girl with the curl in the middle of the forehead. When I'm good, I'm very, very good, but when I'm bad, I'm horrid.

Many years ago–first graders who are now fixing to graduate college–I taught a little boy named Aki (pronounced "a key"). The kids rushed into my classroom and said, "Do you want us to get Aki?"

With my brain in the off mode, I said, "What do you need a key for?"

A little girl said, "You know, Aki!"

"A key to what?" I still didn't get it.

This banter went back and forth with me thinking. What did they need to open and why? Finally it hit me. "Ohhh, Aki! Sure."

Of course it could be worse, like the time the secretary shouted over the intercom, "We need Abeer in the office!"