>Random pictures and the answer to yesterday’s trivia

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Goal –> to keep my mind off staff meeting this afternoon, which could have been worse, but also left a kind of bad taste in my mouth

Goal –> to avoid repeating what others have already said about Favre, and add my own perspective

I wore my Favre Celebrity Softball Game t-shirt to school today. I posted yesterday’s newspaper with its headlines and photos outside my classroom door along with two rather trivial Favre posters. The posters attracted a lot, and I mean a lot or attention from students. One was the Milk Moustache ad from right after Super Bowl XXXI. He looked like such a kid! No gray, no grin wrinkles, all clean-shaven, big grin. The other poster was an ad for Wisconsin’s champion cheeses. Favre is sitting surrounded by big wheels of various cheeses and flashing that big “I can’t believe they pay me to do this” grin. The students kept asking if the autograph on the poster was authentic. No, it isn’t. It was mass-produced along with the advertisement.

Both posters were discussion-starters, though. It was fun talking with kids who have been alive less time than Brett has been playing football. Oh, my goodness, that sounds scary! But it’s true. There is a whole generation of fans — no, two generations of fans! — who remember only one quarterback on the Packers.

So just for fun, here are a few you won’t see on ESPN.

–warming up before a game on a sunny day

— staying warm during a game on a very snowy day

–and the answers to yesterday’s question. If the picture is too small to read, the numbers retired by the Green Bay Packers are 3, Tony Canadeo; 14, Don Hutson; 15, Bart Starr; 66, Ray Nitschke. Not pictured here: 92, Reggie White. Soon to be added: 4, Brett Favre.

photo credits all go to Husband, who had the opportunity to photograph some memorable moments while working weekends 🙂

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>Forgive me while I ramble on a green and gold theme

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>Yes, the news came out today. It’s official.
We knew he couldn’t play 4-ever, but we hoped. We cheered “One more year!” one more time, and hoped he heard us. Fans all over wore the green and gold and sported their #4 jerseys. They’ll wear those forever. It’ll be a classic jersey, since there’s not a chance in the NFL that another Green Bay Packer will ever wear number four again. It’ll be up there with 15 and 66 and only a few more. For ten trivial points — can you name the two players I just identified by number? For bonus points, can you name the other GB Packer players whose numbers have been retired?
My husband emailed me this morning as it unfolded. Apparently one of the big networks broke the news, but it hadn’t been independently confirmed yet. Minutes later, after a phone call to the team’s PR department, his station also aired the story.
I announced it to my class shortly after receiving the email. Many of my little darlings are also fans, and they were shocked and surprised. Consider that they’ve never known Green Bay with another quarterback; Ironman Favre was always, always, there.
He livened up the game with his gunslinger attitude and his dramatic play. He made mistakes, but he more than made up for them. For a southern guy, he sure played well in the cold. I’ll never forget the time he blocked on a running play and got called for a personal foul: unnecessary roughness. A quarterback? Only Favre.
He faced major personal tragedies while in the public eye, and handled them with class. Hurricane Katrina destroyed his childhood home. His wife developed breast cancer. His father died the night before a major game on national television. He battled addiction to a prescription painkiller. He faced fair-weather fans who said he was washed up, too old to play well.
Through it all he continued to inspire fans and foes alike. Anyone who couldn’t laugh when he instigated a snowball fight on the sidelines had to be a bah-humbug or a Seahawks fan. But when he came running out of the tunnel, the crowd roared.
I have many memories, including watching him lead the team to victory in Super Bowl XXXI, being in the same (large) room with him when he appeared on Larry McCarren’s Locker Room show, and rejoicing in his many records established and re-established.
What can I say? Good luck, Brett Favre, the Packers won’t be the same without you. And neither will Wisconsin. Thanks for everything — and mostly, thanks for the memories.

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>Seven Reasons I Wouldn’t Survive Survivor

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>I’ve been tagged! Dorit at Pieces of Me tagged me for the Seven Random Facts meme. The last time I shared seven random facts about me, I shared Green Bay Packer playoff tidbits. This time, I’ll share seven random facts on another rather random theme.

Husband is a big fan of the show Survivor. I’ve watched it with him occasionally, but I rarely get attached to the players the way he does. Early on, I knew I wouldn’t be a good player in this game. So in answer to the latest tag for seven random things, I offer seven reasons why I wouldn’t be a good contestant on the show Survivor.

7. I don’t have a tattoo. It certainly seems like everyone on the show, and I do mean everyone, has a tattoo of some sort, somewhere. Motherly stretch marks don’t count.

6. I’d probably insult the others inadvertently. When I watched the early shows, Australia especially, I kept wondering why these people were so uninformed. They were completely unable to forage food for their tribes. I kept wanting to say, “Haven’t you people read My Side of the Mountain? Or Hatchet? Or any wilderness survival stories? Do you read, period?!

5. I’ve never, ever been good at group sports. I’d fail the physical challenges, and my tribe would say, “Out!”

4. Hearing aids like mine don’t work well in warm, damp climates. If they do Survivor UP (Michigan’s Upper Peninsula), I’m ready!

3. I don’t look good in a bikini. That’s not a put-down or negative self-talk; it’s simply true.

2. I’m a peacemaker, not a backstabber. I couldn’t handle the suspicion and the alliances that lead to tribal council. I’m much more likely to be a go-between, a mediator. Can’t you see it? “Daisy, you’ve ruined the intrigue! Everyone gets along now! They’re not willing to vote each other out of the tribe!”

1. And last, but not least, I’ve never seen them making coffee. For me, doing without coffee for 36 days would be the true test of Survival.

Here are the rules…
1. Link to your tagger and post these rules on your blog.
2. Share 7 facts about yourself on your blog, some random, some weird.
3. Tag 7 people at the end of your post by leaving their names as well as links to their blogs.
4. Let them know they are tagged by leaving a comment on their blog.

Tagging seven is the hard part. I read soooo many blogs, and I’ve tagged most of them already or they’ve tagged me. I’ll leave this one open: if you’d like to be tagged, go for it! Drop a comment here telling us where we can read your post.

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>Swag in a lunch bag

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>One thing that keeps me judging music festivals is this: festival managers treat their adjudicators (judges) like gold. They provide coffee, snacks, water, and more. Even when I’ve had a rough week at my regular teaching job, when I judge I feel like my time and my expertise is valued. This weekend was unusual even by those standards. At my most recent festival, there was a gift bag donated by one of our local music stores. Advertising aside (I’m already a faithful customer!), it outdid anything I’ve ever seen. In fact, it was almost overboard.

Here’s the basic inventory.
insulated lunch bag sporting name of music store
glass candy dish sporting store logo
tiny chocolate bars to fill dish (see above)
water bottle displaying logo and motto for store
week at-a-glance calendar with logo on cover
faux leather CD case, also with logo embossed on cover
several pencils and a ballpoint pen (suitably identifying their sponsor)
small notepad with logo watermark
folder boldly proclaiming store’s name, featuring young musicians enjoying their craft

I can’t complain about advertising when it’s on free and usable supplies. Most of the above will go to school with me or find a use at home (the chocolate? ahem). I must admit, though, even though I laughed out loud at the huge batch of goodies, it sure was nice to know they appreciated my work.

Photo from my new cell phone. Please excuse the blurriness; I’m still learning the ins and outs of the new phone and its camera.

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>I guess I won’t hog the microphone.

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>I’m sharing the stage with the Mayor tomorrow — for about 15 minutes. It’s Read Across America day, and our school is doing it up big. Read Across America celebrates uses Dr. Seuss’ birthday, March 2 as a target date to celebrate the love of reading. Since the magic date falls on a Sunday this year, we’re celebrating on February 29.
It’s a school spirit day, with everyone who cares to participate dressing in Cat in the Hat colors: red, white, and black. I hesitate to waste a casual Friday on a dress-up day, but since I dressed down for the talent show yesterday, I suppose it all evens out in the end. Husband asked if I was Thing One or Thing Two when I pulled out my red and white striped sweater to wear with my black pants. Most years I wear my official Seuss sweatshirt proclaiming One fish, Two fish, Red fish, Blue fish, but it’s a rather thick fleece, and the weather may be close to thirty degrees (that’s positively balmy, for those who were wondering).
So back to the staging of this event. We’ll open with a short talk by the mayor, possibly hear him read The Cat in the Hat, and then I’ll read my own Dr. Seuss tribute poem.
Then we’ll move from room to room and listen to a variety of Dr. Seuss books read by local volunteers and celebrity guests. After it’s all done, and the students have moved back to their classrooms, we’ll have cake. That may be the part the kiddos will look forward to the most! I plan a short period of SSR (Self-Selected Reading, also known as Silent Sustained Reading) to help my highly active class settle down after the excitement. I’d hate to send them home for the weekend wired to the max.
Then again, sending them home on a mild sugar high might be fair enough.
Back to the main topic, I won’t need to worry about upstaging the mayor. He gets top billing.
But can he rhyme?

Update–
I didn’t hog the microphone: he did. There wasn’t time enough for the poem, and I’m okay with that. The students enjoyed all of our guest readers, including two from the public library and one school board member. The board member complimented me on the poem; our librarian had included a copy in his “gift bag” for the day. Well, it’s not major swag like the Oscars, but we wanted to show our appreciation for their time. All in all, it was a good celebration.

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>Random thoughts on getting a passport renewed

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>I gathered everything I could possibly need for this application. Birth certificate, driver’s license, old passport, marriage license, proof of address, and more. I filled out the written form. I packed my checkbook.

It was much too easy.
When I arrived at the office, the official took my old passport, asked to see my driver’s license because my name had changed since the old passport, and that was all she needed.
But did she have to laugh at the photo?
I mean, really, we all looked like that in the late seventies, didn’t we? And the worker handling the application was my age, too. I’m sure her picture would have appeared just as dated as mine, if she had one from that era. The hair carefully feathered back from the face, big glasses with the photosensitive lenses (hot technology, it was), not to mention the plaid shirt with the solid color turtleneck under it. Hey, at least it was in black and white. That shirt had some pretty funky colors in it.

So she took my new photo, showed it to me, asked if it was okay (of course), and then took my money and handed over my receipts.
Sorry, I can’t post the old photo. The old passport is heading off to visit a few government offices while my new one goes through.
But it could be worse — it could be my school picture this year! Now that’s scary.

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>To be truthful…

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The Liar’s Diary by Patry Francis is a compelling and unpredictable story. Jeanne Cross, perfect doctor’s wife and high school secretary, finds herself carpooling with a rather atypical teacher who strikes a chord with her and becomes a close friend. In the process, however, Jeanne ends up witness to events that shock the traditional school gossip channels. The faculty lounge grapevine doesn’t usually dabble in life and death headlines — until free spirited Ali Mather joins the staff. Soon rumors pale in relationship to real life, and Jeanne faces unwelcome truths and unearths skeletons she wishes had remained buried. Her loyalty and her honesty collide with brutal results.
From the opening chapter to the riveting climax, this novel just doesn’t quit. The pacing isn’t a walk or a jog, but a speedy drive on a tight mountainous pass: fast, twisty, and totally on edge.
Don’t read it alone, don’t read it in the dark, but absolutely do read it. The Liar’s Diary is fascinating and enthralling. Patry Francis ties her readers in knots and doesn’t let them loose until the very, very final page.

Note: I received a copy of The Liar’s Diary, no monetary compensation, in order to write this review for MotherTalk.

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>Fear and loathing on the front porch, with ice

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>Remember the lovely icicles on my front porch? They are still there. Or more accurately, they keep coming back. I’ve knocked down icicles twice a day, morning and evening, but there is so much snow and so much other frozen wonderland on our south-facing roof that there will be icicles for a while. Make that quite a while.
Yesterday I was knocking down a batch of these lovely wet stalactites of ours and I startled a woman walking her dog past the house. She saw what I was doing and laughed; I had to laugh back. My icicle obsession seems so pointless.
So why do I bother fighting this losing battle? Safety. When the sun shines on the icicles, they melt. They drip. They drip onto the front steps and the sidewalk, and then they refreeze. This means the very same sidewalk that Amigo uses to get to and from his school bus becomes ice-covered and slick, very slick. This is also the very same sidewalk that the postal carrier and paper deliverer use each day. They need a safe walkway, too, just like Amigo. So in addition to knocking down the icicles, we spread salt and kitty litter on the sidewalk regularly. Husband spent some time chopping and removing the accumulated ice today, so for now the sidewalk is clean.
We’ll see. There’s another storm predicted for Monday overnight.
If I keep fighting these battles, I know eventually I’ll win. Maybe in May?

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>Fur Elise is not for amateurs

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(or) Reflections on a day spent judging piano solos

“Fur Elise” may be a standard, but it’s not easy. When middle school students realize this, maybe they’re stop butchering the piece. Poor Ludwig must be turning over in his grave — or at the least, decomposing.
Student performers introduce their own pieces before they play. This can lead to some interesting statements. “An interesting aspect of this piece is that it’s pretty.” “Something unique about this piece is, um, is, um — I’m sorry, I’ve done six of these intros today and I just can’t remember any more.”
Tears before the festival judge will not improve a rating — but it won’t harm it, either. We only judge the performance.
Excuses for mistakes will not improve a rating, either. See above.
Yes, I did overhear the neighborhood police liaison officer teasing the volunteer by telling her not to spill the donuts or she’d get a ticket.
Festival judges like coffee. At least I do. Keep it coming, and I’ll be more alert for much longer! (That’s a message to the festival managers, not to the performers, by the way.)

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>Kids these days

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>Kids these days. I was frustrated as all get out today, dealing with behaviors that were simply out of line and unacceptable. Most of all, I was sick and tired of dealing with the Diva/ Draft Choice type: those who decide that the rules are for everyone else. For example:
Despite the all-school assembly earlier this week discussing recent thefts and the tightening of rules and regulations, a student followed up immediately after the assembly by walking into the classroom unsupervised. When I reminded him firmly that he had broken the rule that we’d just reviewed, his response was, “But I needed my math book.” A few days later he and a friend turned up at the classroom door before the bell. “Oh, we were first in line.” Even after the principal pulled him into her office and issued a detention, he did it again this morning!! When I confronted him and asked him to tell me the rule about going into a classroom alone, he came back with, “But I needed an overdue book from my desk.” He spent afternoon recess in detention. Again.
Another student has been behaving badly and doesn’t respond to reminders and reinforcement. In fact, he talks back, making excuses and acting like he’s being picked on. The last straw came when I caught him throwing crayons. His “Uh-uh, I was just putting them back in the box!” did me in. He lost our end-of-the week reward, extra recess time, and had a note written to his parents. I know they won’t put up with this kind of rudeness and backtalk, and neither will I.
But really, kids these days. I’ve been allowing a small group to practice their talent show dance in my room at recess. A few of their friends stayed in and washed the chalkboards for me and then re-wrote the day’s date next to the daily schedule with a lovely flourish of well-practiced cursive writing. When I went to erase the board at the end of the day, I noticed they’d added a personal note. “Mrs. DaisyTeacher Rocks!”
Ah, kids these days. Aren’t they great?

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