Monthly Archives: December 2008

>A mini-tour by the fireplace

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>Eggbert will whisk visitors off to the candy dish that looks like a fireplace. Sorry, the candy’s gone. You’ll have to wait for cookies.

The snowman on the left is so tacky it’s adorable. It has a light inside that changes colors from pale blue, to lilac, to white. It’s ridiculous, but really sweet. Yes, it was a student gift. How can you tell?


The other snowpeople are a candy jar and salt and pepper shakers. They’re really cute, too. I might just have to use the shakers at Christmas dinner. And as for the rabbit hiding on the right — did you really think we’d decorate without bunnies? Not a chance.

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>Creating an emergency….or not.

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>In the book Don’t Sweat the Small Stuff, one piece of advice that resonates personally is this: Don’t create your own emergency.

We had a staff breakfast this morning, the culmination of our Secret Santa week and a fun get-together for staff just before winter break. The invitation always comes with a hint to make our favorite recipes. There are usually at least three different egg dishes, several coffeecakes and homemade breads, coffees, juices, and the works. Last year I baked muffins. Out of a dozen, I brought home eight.
This year I was smarter. I signed up to bring fruit. I gathered a variety of apples, pears, and oranges from the recent music department fundraiser, dropped them in a reusable but presentable paper bag, and called it done.
The fruit bag was a hit. I only brought home a few oranges and one pear. My contribution also turned out to be something my coworkers could bring up to their rooms and enjoy later in the day. I knew that any fruit I brought home would still be good; no stale muffins to be wasted. I didn’t have to bring utensils or special toppings. It worked for the healthy food folk and the dieters, too.

I took the advice to heart and managed to contribute something of value without creating my own pressure, my own stressful emergency.

At this time of year, that’s a gift.

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>In response to irregular plurals

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>”Reactions while correcting the weekly spelling test” just didn’t sound as good for a post title.

What were these kids thinking?
Sheelves: female elves? Are there He-elves, too? Or was that just a drawn out vowel, a southern style accent, Shayelves? One student spelled it shaelves. “Put the books on the shaelves, ma’am.” Shelves also became Sleves, Sevles, and shelvs.
Theeth: well, the kid knew the plural needed a double e and a -th. Maybe he wasn’t sure if the th came at the beginning or the end and just put it in both places to increase his odds. Or not.
Chidren: three kids left out the L. That’s not a regional dialect, folks; we really do say “children.”

Wimen? Gese? Gesse? Spacecrafts?

I really did teach the spelling structures for the irregular plurals. The kids created a list comparing the singular to the plural form of each word, sorted by pattern. The list stood on a chart in a prominent place for a week. They had review/ practice sheets for extra credit.

The dysgraphic child in the class handled this test with 100% accuracy. That’s not easy; dysgraphia made the P in sheep difficult, among other letters. This kiddo worked harder than any other to make these letters fall in the right places and face the correct directions.
To the rest I’m tempted to say, “What’s your excuse?!”

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>Any port in a storm, as long as there’s coffee. And wi-fi.

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>Famous last words: “It was fine when Amigo and I had to spend the night there.”

Amigo and I were caught out in a storm a few weeks ago, so we stayed in a hotel down the road from La Petite’s apartment in her small college town. We were relieved to find that there was room at the inn, and happy to find that the Inn offered complimentary continental breakfast and free wi-fi. It wasn’t fancy, but we didn’t need fancy. It worked for us.
Husband told me (a few days later) that he had looked into this place when we visited during Homecoming weekend, and he made reservations elsewhere because the reviews were all negative. Lousy. Bad news, bears. Whatever, warhawks.
That’s when I uttered my famous last words (see above).
So when we decided to visit to celebrate daughter’s birthday last weekend, we stayed at the Inn Down the Road.
Where should I begin?
The mattresses were soft, the kind we call Valley Beds with a major dip in the middle. The pillows were lumpy. Comfort wasn’t on the menu.
The TV reception was blurry. Not just unclear, downright blurry.
The heater continuously pumped out excessive warmth, leading to dry, dry air and dry, dry throats. Adjusting this appliance led to two adults who didn’t sleep much, since we were frequently getting up and changing the settings and peeling off layers of winter pajamas.
Pool (indoors, of course) was okay, but the whirlpool wasn’t available.
Breakfast was good, though. They had a wafflemaker that started with batter and produced a fresh, warm waffle in two minutes. The coffee was good, and that always helps.
As we left, Amigo and I talked it over. We didn’t have the heat problem a few weeks ago, but that was because I didn’t discover the heat switches until morning. We were so exhausted and relieved to have shelter that we just tucked ourselves into the blankets and slept. We didn’t swim that night, and we didn’t notice a problem with the mattresses or pillows. Maybe we were just too tired to care, or maybe the bedding in the other room was newer and less worn.
In conclusion, we decided that the Inn Down the Road was a good port in a storm, but not the greatest place for a pleasure trip with the family.
Happy Love Thursday, all. Next time, I’ll do my best to keep my Famous Last Words to myself.

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>So the Grinch said

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>He didn’t stop Christmas from coming: it came!
It came without ribbons. It came without tags.
It came without packages, boxes, or bags.
He puzzled and puzzled ’til his puzzler was sore.
Then the Grinch thought of something he hadn’t before.
What if Christmas, he thought, doesn’t come from a store?
What if Christmas, perhaps, means a little bit more?
–How the Grinch stole Christmas, by Dr. Seuss

I’m giving some gifts from stores (brick & mortar and online), some from my kitchen, and some from creative secondhand shopping. I’ve taken to heart the thoughts of wrapping, though. I don’t like the waste or the cost of commercial wrapping paper, so this year I’m working on alternatives.

– The bags protecting the newspaper have been red lately. Tie at each end with curling ribbon or twist ties, and the package looks like a great big piece of candy!
– Seasonal grocery bags have simple but nice graphics; cut them out, add them to the fireplace motif wrapping.
– All this wrapping material will get recycled or thrown away. Don’t get attached to it. But who gets attached to wrapping paper anyway?
– There’s always Wordle.net!
– Martha doesn’t live here. Really. And it’s okay.

This goal was born of my environmental streak. The frugal piece is a byproduct of the green, but a valid one. I haven’t purchased wrapping paper, ribbons or tags, boxes or bags. It lets me focus our budget dollars on the gifts, the keepers, rather than the byproduct that ends up in the trash. And even with my lack of scrapbooking skills, I’m having fun thinking of new ways to make the wrapping look nice.

If Dr. Seuss wrote about gift wrap, he might suggest:

What if wrapping, itself, didn’t come from a store.
What if thoughful gift wrapping meant just a bit more?
Just reuse the boxes, the ribbons, the tags.
Make use of the packaging, boxes, and bags.
If you and your clan enjoy Christmas each year,
Be nice to your budget, the message is clear.

Parent Bloggers Network and FFDA are working together to find out how families are handling this holiday season, adapting financially and in other ways to make the season less overwhelming. FFDA is an organization that provides support and counseling year round, not just at Christmas.

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>Easiest Oatmeal Cookies Ever

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>1 cup brown sugar, packed
1 cup butter, softened
1 cup all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon baking soda
2 cups uncooked quick oats

Preheat oven to 350 degrees Fahrenheit. Combine sugar and butter; mix well. Add flour and baking soda. Stir in oats. Roll into 1 inch balls. Place on ungreased cookie sheets and press slightly. Bake at 350 for 8-10 minutes. Remove from pan and cool on cooling rack. Makes 2-3 dozen, depending on size.

I made mine bigger, so my yield was 2 dozen.
And I was almost out of butter sticks, so I combined it with the low-fat vegetable spread in the big tub — the store brand equivalent of country crock.
And I added 1/2 cup raisins.

So my Easy Oatmeal Cookies didn’t turn out exactly as pictured in the Cookie Book. They tasted delicious, but they spread out really, really thin, and they kind of folded/squashed themselves into odd shapes when I took them off the pan. I blame the “butter.”

The original recipe, not my improvised edition, is from the WE Energies 80th Anniversary Cookie Book. If you follow their directions, you’ll have better luck. Either way, they’re great with coffee or hot apple cider.

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>Dear Santa; a little assistance, please?

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>Dear Santa;

I know you are coping with a wildly increasing workload. Your working conditions are probably a lot like mine: more demands, fewer resources, fewer people (or elves) with which to handle more difficult tasks. We jolly old elves and not so jolly teachers keep facing the challenge of doing more and more with less and less.

Santa, I don’t ask for things for Christmas. I don’t ask you to fill my stocking. I put something out for my students so they can enjoy a little seasonal specialness at school. You don’t have to help with that part of the celebration.

But Santa, I’ve been feeling a little down lately. I could chalk it up to “Kids these days” or the worsening economy, and both are parts of the problem. My job is stable and employment secure, even though my salary is more likely to shrink than grow in today’s reality. No, Santa, I’m not asking for money.

You’re in your furs from your head to your foot, and your beard may be covered with ashes and soot. I’m clad in a holiday sweater that makes fashionistas cringe, but makes my students smile. The problem is this.

If an ice cream maker gets in a bad batch of blueberries, they can send them back to the plant.
If a television producer gets a poor script, it gets revised or rewritten.

When I add a student to my class, I teach that student. I can’t send him back home to re-learn how to behave, send him to his former school to learn to read, or simply say to the principal, “No, I’m sorry, this one just doesn’t measure up. I can’t take him.”

But the Joe Q. Public thinks it’s my fault if the kid doesn’t make it. Mine and mine alone.

Santa, here’s the point. All I desire for Christmas isn’t a new teacher mug or a package of caramels, although I’ll love those, too. Instead, I’d really appreciate respect. A little respect from the families of the children in my classes, a little respect from those who might not understand the challenges I face every day. A little respect from the energy-saving czar who keeps complaining that my computer uses too much electricity; a little respect from the parents who think their child is an angel, even though he’s probably getting a lump of coal from you, if you’re honest.

So Santa, you can bypass the World’s Best Teacher coffee mug for my stocking this year. I don’t even need a Congressional bail-out. I’ll take a new Public Relations director, one who can tell the world what I face each day, one who can let the lawmakers and community members know how much knowledge and passion I inject into my fascinating and exhausting work.

Thanks, Santa.

Respectfully yours,
Daisy

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>Wisdom in the laundry room

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>Green washing of Jeans: wash first, dry last. Hang to air dry in between.
This saves time and energy by air drying the wettest of the jeans. They’ll shrink less, too, as they can now dry for a minimal time on the delicate cycle.

20 Mule Team Borax is a great invention.
It smells better than bleach, doesn’t spill (well, I don’t spill it as easily), and takes out stains well. It doesn’t cost as much as commercial detergent boosters, and the paper box is recyclable.

Detergent makers usually recommend at least double the amount that’s really needed to wash a load well.
Of course! They want me to buy twice as much of their product. Ha, ha, ha. I’m wise to this trick!

Dryers eat socks. Sometimes they spit them out later. I keep an Orphan Sock Box in the closet for socks waiting reconciliation.
This also works if one sock in a pair spouts a hole. When another pair from the same package suffers the same loss, there’s a new mate waiting. If a sock really, really doesn’t have a mate, it will eventually end up in my classroom as a white-board eraser.

Just because I do this chore efficiently doesn’t mean I like it.
I’ve learned enough tricks to get the family laundry done quickly and efficiently, get the stains out (mostly), and get all the clothes back in the closets and drawers by the time school and workweeks start Monday morning. It’s a necessity, family, not a pleasure.

Clothes must be washed, no matter what the other plans are. Fit it in.
See above. If we’re going away for part of the weekend, I’ll start sorting and washing ahead of time. If report cards are due, I’ll start a wash load, work on math grade, throw the wash in the dryer, work on reading grades, etc., etc., etc. Laundry is a good Sunday chore, too; I can fold sheets in front of the TV while the Packers are playing!

Each and every family member needs to own at least two weeks worth of underwear.
See above. If no one runs out of underwear, laundry can wait a week in a pinch. Maybe. So there’s the wisdom; make sure everyone has drawers in their drawers, and the livin’ is easy.

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>Coping with the Storm

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>Hunker down or evacuate? Depends on the storm.

Here in the Northern Reaches of the Midwest, we hunker down. Our storms are tornados, thunderstorms, blizzards, bitter cold temperatures, and (sometimes) floods. Most of the time, it’s not even enough to cancel a football game. We prepare by having flashlights, fresh batteries, candles, matches, and firewood. If power goes out, we can cook on the grill or eat cold sandwiches. If power goes out in winter, we put the frozen food in a cooler in the snow and all is well. Snowstorms usually leave the house intact.

The main danger in a storm is travel. In a blizzard, we stay home. Schools get cancelled (sometimes) or delayed until the plows can get through. In bitter cold below-zero weather, we dress in layers – many layers — before venturing out to get the paper or shovel snow. We Wisconsin natives pride ourselves on coping with the cold and the snow, but it’s a world of difference from the parts of the country that prepare to evacuate on sometimes little or no notice due due impending hurricanes or wildfires.

In my training as a Public Health Volunteer, the trainers kept impressing upon us that a true pandemic flu could stop all public interaction. Schools would close, most businesses would close, and people would be advised to stay home. Cutting out the outside world can stop the germs and viruses from spreading and potentially save lives. It would be the ultimate in hunkering down. How can we prepare for that?

I guess the best way to prepare would be to stop rambling on my blog and take inventory of the pantry and medicine chest. Here I go…do we have enough peanut butter to bake cookies?

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>Juggling — literally and figuratively

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>In the final graduate class toward my Masters Degree, all of the class members were describing their personal growth and professional progress as they had passed through the program cycle. We were seated in a circle, my friend Sara next to me, and Deb was showing us a collection of photos that represented critical points in her educational journey. The classroom windows were tall and narrow and far apart, so only those of us sitting exactly in the right place could see outside. Beyond the window behind Deb, on an entrance road that passed rather close to the building, a juggler appeared.
Yes, a juggler. Big yellow shoes, baggy black clown pants, bowling-pin style clubs spiraling through the air. Sara and I exchanged glances, then looked back at Deb and tried to concentrate. The juggler walked on, and a parade of dog-walkers following him. This group of people — it had to be at least 75 to 100, just counting the two-legged folk — strode along as though they were marching for a cause (which was probably the case!). By this time, Sara and I could no longer look at each other. The longer the line went on, the closer we came to laughing. As the dogs and their humans paraded down the road out of sight, a helicopter landed on the campus lawn. Yes, a helicopter.
Deb had no idea.
Sara and I held onto our composure and used our best drama skills to at least feign focus until Deb was done. During our next break, we told her the whole story. Truth is stranger than fiction, and this was one of the strangest things to happen to us during grad school.
Five years later, we are still friends. Deb’s a fabulous teacher and a great juggler herself, a mother of three and teacher in a low-income school in our fair district. Her sense of humor took her through the cycle of graduate classes and served her yet again when we informed her of the sights she hadn’t even known were competing for our attention.
As the new year looms closer and my personal juggling act gathers momentum, I can’t help but think of the juggler who started the whole crazy parade outside the graduate school window. The symbolism remains strong; we might never know how many people around us are juggling. I won’t even try to address potential symbolism in the helicopter landing.

Parent Bloggers Network and BigTent asked bloggers to chronicle their goals and changes for 2009. For me, life always come down to the juggling act. This is a true story, a post renewed and revised one more time.
I’d love to get my act together and maybe even take it on the road for a while. But for now, I’d be satisfied to successfully juggle all the balls that life throws at me. Want to join my circus? Watch your step; the dogs are often a hard act to follow.

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