Real Life is Stranger than Fiction

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Alternate title: Frustration on the Job.

This is the transcript from an actual phone conversation Chuck had recently.

“Hello, this is K at Television Parts & Parts.  How may I help you?”

Hi this is Chuck from W-blank-blank-blank out in Green Bay, Wisconsin.  I need to place an order for a part please.

“OK, the guy you need to talk to is busy and can’t help you right now…And it’s me.  Can I forward you to my voicemail?  Please leave a message and I’ll call you back next time I’m in.”

Ummm…OK.

Click, Ring, Click, Recorded voice…

“Hello, this is K at Television Parts & Parts.  I’m not in right now, please leave a message and I’ll get back to you as soon as possible.”  Beep.

Hi this is Chuck from W— out in Green Bay, Wisconsin.  I need to place an order for a part please.

You can call me back at ###-###-####.

Later, my phone rings…

Hello, W-blank-blank-blank Engineering, this is Chuck.

“Hello, this is K at Television Parts & Parts.  How may I help you?”

Hi, thanks for calling back, I’m with W-blankety-blank-blank out in Green Bay, Wisconsin.  I need to place an order for a part please.

Truth is indeed stranger than fiction, at least in the television world. Meanwhile, back at my own workplace, I received the following email from Chuck.

Just got call from contractor.  He’s going to start 7:30 Wednesday morning.

My Wednesday is crowding up.  It’s becoming The Time Nexus; the day through which all other events must pass through.

I may need your help Tuesday evening as I deflect at least one black hole.  I’ll buy you dinner at the Restaurant at the Edge of the Universe.

Well, my friends, life changed very quickly. Chuck developed a sudden excruciating pain that turned out to be a kidney stone or two, and his coworkers ended up handling the Black Hole in the Time Nexus. We waited until he was feeling better, and then we did visit a restaurant – one near home, not at the end of the universe. After a salad with bacon dressing followed by pumpkin bread pudding, both of us felt ready to face the big bad world again.

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Testing – one, two, three

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Test Booklets en masse

Test Booklets en masse

This is the last year for the boxes upon boxes of test booklets. We’re not done testing, by any means, but the tests themselves are changing. Next year, when we’re all set up, I’m sure I’ll post an overview. In the meantime, I guess we’ll just reminisce about The Way Testing Was.

It’s that time of year again! State testing. The Wonderful Knowledge and Concepts Exam. Criterion Referenced Items (a.k.a. WKCE-CRI). Rubrics. Fill in the bubble next to the correct answer choice. Make sure you erase completely and make your new mark heavy and dark. Use only a number 2 pencil. Any questions? You have 40 minutes. Begin.

I teach in a public virtual charter school, an online school, and my students live all over the state of Wisconsin. Since we can’t expect all of them to come to us, we go to them for the required tests. After a day of laundry and raking leaves, I put on my test season sweatshirt (above), packed my bags, and got ready to go.

My destination: a hotel near a major metropolitan area with conference room or rooms that will hold all of our area students. Four of my colleagues and I set up camp in our hotel rooms, including connection to the hotel wi-fi and an in-depth investigation of the in-room coffee makers. We had supper in the bar (the hotel restaurant was out of our price range), checked out the conference rooms for size and set-up, and then settled into our hotel rooms again to relax.

I set out my clothes for the next day — casual, yet teacher-dressy — including my school name badge (so parents will know who I am) and my district ID (in case the state agency decides to audit us). I’m ready.

In the morning, students armed with number 2 pencils will arrive, ready to attack their test booklets.


I hope they all remember that multiple choice items have only one answer, and they should make their marks heavy and dark.

And I sure hope I can forget this repetitive test proctor speech so it stops running through my head and invading my dreams at night!

This year was slightly different for me. Instead of being a proctor and reciting directions all day long, I gave a presentation for learning coaches (usually parents) called Tips for Teaching Reading. We had a small turnout, but the parents were attentive and asked thoughtful questions. After that, I assisted with benchmark reading assessments. Now and then I supervised students in between test sessions or made sure they connected with their parents as they finished. And once in a while…
Yoga Break!

Yoga Break!

…I watched as my colleague led the high school students in a few sun salutations. Now that’s a test break!

 

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Tomatoes! Tomatoes! I still have tomatoes!

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A few days ago, I mentioned having oodles and oodles of not noodles, but tomatoes. I even mentioned a few suggestions. Here you go, folks, the results of Daisy’s Overabundance of Ripe Tomatoes!

Lotsa Salsa!

Lotsa Salsa!

I do mean a lot, too. It took two sessions in the hot water bath canner – my big one! – to process all of it.

In the category of “It’s only weird if it doesn’t work” (Thanks, Budweiser), we have Eating the Opponent, Philadelphia: Tomato Pie!

Tomato Pie!

Tomato Pie!

Well, it didn’t work. The game against the Eagles was a disaster in many ways. I might make the tomato pie again some day, though. It was good. I served it with diced Golden Delicious apples from a farm stand near La Petite’s abode in Lake Geneva.

The calendar may say November, but we’re still eating goodies that were grown locally or nearly so, including tomatoes from my own backyard. Click your heels three times, now, and say, “There’s nothing like homegrown tomatoes. There’s nothing like…” Or something like that.

 

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Feeding Our Neighbors

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Please visit my friend Kelly Wickham, known on the blogosphere as Mocha Momma, known to me as Simply Amazing. She speaks the truth as she talks about hunger and poverty, food “insecurity” and responsibility.

Look here for her speech, transcribed into a post for all to read.

Meanwhile, keep donating to your local food bank, and get on our lawmakers to set their priorities in order. You know what I mean.

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Veterans’ Day

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In honor of Veterans’ Day, I offer you an encore post from a different holiday – Memorial Day. Enjoy.

Every year we start Memorial Day by throwing our lawn chairs in Amigo’s bike basket and hitting the road for half a block to stake our claim on a good place to watch the parade. Seriously, it’s half a block from our home. We watch from the front yard, and when the police are putting the traffic barriers up, we head over and park ourselves in the road under our favorite shade tree. Here’s Amigo and MIL cheering on the municipal city band. Chuck? He was relaxing.

Amigo didn’t look excited to see my alma mater march past. Well, at least he applauded.
I tried to get my neighbor’s son in this shot with his baritone – instead, it looks like part of the seventy-six trombone section from Music Man.
And then we went home. Home, to help out our “real live veteran in our front yard,” as Amigo put it. FIL didn’t want to struggle all the way down the street with his walker, so he settled under our mock cherry tree and read a book. We gave him a little flag next to his lawn chair so he could be part of the festivities.
Happy Memorial Day Veterans’ Day, everyone. May your family members in the services stay safe and return to you soon.

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Writer’s Block? Not me.

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I’ve just been low on time while I make sure that no child remains untested in the fair state of Wisconsin. But meanwhile, something I submitted wound its way through the review process, back to my desk, and back to the review process and eventually out of the pipeline onto my employer’s national blog.

You can read it here. 

Or you can look into the archives of Compost Happens and find the original here. 

I used to use this example to teach my face to face students in the brick and mortar schoolroom that thinking like a writer meant opening their minds and noticing the world around them. The reviewers and editors interpreted that as “Carry a notebook.” Really, readers, that’s only one small postage-stamp size corner of the picture. Thinking like a writer means that I look up, not down. I look around and imagine. I look at that pile of dirt next to the porch and think, “Rock garden.” Where others see dirt, I see soil.

And when something interesting happens, I think “Blog!” Or I should say I think Blog! if Amigo hasn’t already said, “Mom, you should blog this.” He thinks like a writer, too.

So, peoples in Interweb Land, how does your outlook provide you with entertainment and/or writing fodder? Do you carry a tiny memo book in your bag?

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Talking back to FaceBook -or- Too Many Tomatoes

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Facebook just can’t let me be me. The pretend personality behind the site keeps asking questions, almost like posing a meme for a blog blast.

What’s on your mind? Why, thank you for asking, Facebook. I thought no one cared. But to be honest, FB, I usually air my deepest thoughts on my blog or to my network on Plurk, rather than share it in the most public place possible. And yes, indeed, FB, despite the privacy settings, I’m certain that much more of the private me gets out to the public than I realize.

What’s really on my mind, you might wonder? Too Many Tomatoes, that’s what. Famous last words of mine: Oh, I don’t need to store them in newspaper or a paper bag to slow the ripening process. We’ll just eat them or cook them as they ripen. 

I have so many tomatoes that I need to make something, and fast, before they rot. That’s the last word.

So I asked Da Boyz, a.k.a. Amigo and Chuck, whether I should put together another batch of tomato sauce or salsa, and they answered — Tomato Pie! 

What? Tomato pie? I gave in and looked it up. Courtesy of Zorba Paster’s Heart Healthy Recipes, we’re having Tomato Pie for Eating the Opponent: Philadephia.

And I still have enough left over for a generous batch of salsa.

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Driving Amigo – and vice versa

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We enjoy road trips, Amigo and I. A simple trip to La Petite’s apartment takes over two hours, and we make it a good time. Part of today’s trip was Saturday’s Public Radio line-up. We left the house to What ‘Ya Know with Michael Feldman, and we arrived in the Lake Community to the closing of Car Talk. We took a short break during Feldman’s town of the week to pick up a quick lunch, and then hit the road again.

Picking up lunch was a treat in itself. We stopped on a Strip to end all Strips and, lured by clever advertising, looked for a KFC. We wanted to try their Go Cups in the minivan. The results were favorable; both Amigo and I liked our chicken and potato wedges. It beat the heck out of the golden arches for taste and quality – and fun, too.

Let’s look back a few years. Amigo went to the DMV to get his state ID. As he tapped his white cane across the lobby, a teacher aide called out a greeting. “Hey, Amigo! What are you doing here?” My boy answered without hesitation; “I’m taking my driver’s test.”

Picture the poor teacher aide with her jaw dropping to the floor in her driver’s license picture. When you’re done laughing, come back.

Revving up the engine!

Revving up the engine!

The jalopy pictured was part of an informal gathering in a tavern parking lot. It wasn’t a strictly regulated “Don’t touch anything!” It was more of a “Come on up close and explore!” The car owners saw Amigo’s enthusiasm along with his white cane and invited him in. This one saw potential; he ushered Amigo into the driver’s seat and showed him how to start the car. Vroom!

When we plan our Route 66 journey someday, maybe he can spell me at the wheel.

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Halloween or a Full Moon

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As heard on Halloween Day —

“I am the Count from Sesame Street. ONE timeline portfolio graded! TWO timeline portfolios graded! Bwahahahahaha!”

“All I can say is there had better be chocolate at home. Wait – it’s Halloween! There IS chocolate at home!”

Why yes, I do work with teachers. Need you ask?

Trick or treaters in costume looking over the pit next to the porch — “Hey, is someone buried there?” No, it’s just yet another step in recovering from last spring’s disaster: the porch sank in the saturated ground. Contractors came yesterday to build up the foundation.

And so it goes, Halloween at the O.K. Chorale.

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Compost generates heat. Believe it.

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Disclaimer: this is NOT my garage.

Charred spot formerly known as Compost

Charred spot formerly known as Compost

My dear, darling brother sent this picture along with a warning and a story. It’s not his garage, either, thank goodness.  One of his friends sent it around.

“Small fire on the back side of my garage. Learned that the compost pile shouldn’t be that close to the garage and that old ashes from a fire pit should never be put in the compost. Fire captain said even 3 weeks later. He also said he has seen where a cigarette butt weeks later in mulch can catch fire.”

Wow! Bummer, indeed. I have dumped fireplace ashes on our brush pile and occasionally in the big compost bin. I always think, “these are cold ashes, no heat at all.”

The big bin isn’t up against our garage. It is, however, rather near my neighbor’s woodpiles. I guess we’d better give this some thought. Ashes to compost, safe or not? Readers, what kind of experiences have you had with fireplace and fire pit ashes and compost?

 

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