A Substitute Experience of Delight

**Yesterday, I filled in for a teacher who needed to leave school for an hour. What ensued left me laughing for the rest of the night. I was wonderfully entertained by adolescent thinking. This may only be funny for my fellow teachers, but I suspect any who remember the abstract thinking of American teenagers may smile.

Boy: But Mrs. Smith always let's me text.

Me: Nice try. Put it away. She's not here. I am.

Boy: (gets up in the middle of a class discussion to get tape) There's no tape. Can I get some from Mrs. Jones?

Me: No. She's teaching and I'm teaching. Get in your seat.

Same boy: (to a girl sitting next to him; with a strong American accent) Tu cuerpo es caliente.

Me: (looking right at him) Don't say that in here.

Scared boy: You speak Spanish?! You understood me?

Me: Yes. So don't say things like that.

Chorus of the class: OH!

During silent reading fifteen minutes later, this same boy, six feet tall, stands up, falls to the ground, and just lays there. And lays there.

Me: Get in your seat. I don't even have a word for you.

(He stayed there for another moment, then got in his seat and behaved for the rest of class.)

**This doesn't sound as funny as it was to experience, but it was so amusing to watch him trying to see what would happen. I didn't have problems with him or anyone else, but it was funny to see how they wanted to see, "what will she do..." :-P

What did I do? Laugh inside. A lot.

Another funny story:

So today, one of my students (we'll call her Amy) walked into class with a nice story. She said, "I just saw a student teacher in the hall who was taking deep breaths as she walked down the hall, saying 'okay, I can do this. I can do this.' " Needless to say, she was laughing, and I was laughing until I realized that if Amy was seeing that side of another student teacher, it wasn't going to help her confidence in me. :-) Of course I occasionally feel this way, but hopefully my students cant see it. And I hope that I'm not as dramatic visually.

My lessons today were a bit more complicated and frustrating; therefore, I solved my sorrows with Mr. Snickers the candy man. Later, I went to a professional development meeting that taught me to read more expressively. The presenter, Dr. Love (a name she hates) reminded me that there are many voices in my head. Apparently watching all those movies over and over in have created a store of voices that I can use when I read. She basically charged me to give life to words--to color them--when I read so that I can engage students. I now have permission to let all those voices and noises in my head escape! AH!!! HERE THEY COME!

A Love/Hate Relationship

I love running. Well, to be honest, I hate the first ten minutes of it, but once I get through that, there's nothing like the cool air paired with melting snow, a warm sun, and trickling water off the roofs as I jog through the old houses of south Provo. I love feeling active in the world. I hope that one day the hate part of the relationship will fade, but until then: Dear Diary, I'm working on it.

High school kids writing

I Love It When...

I love it when I find out that there are twins in my class, and that's why I couldn't figure out why I couldn't get David's name right. There were two of them!

I love it when students spend an entire journal entry writing about why they hate doing journals. they write to the last line so that they won't get points taken off; if I had to do that, I would be annoyed too.

I love it when students read a print-out of Sparksnotes just before a reading quiz. Like I wouldn't see him sitting in the front row.

I love when I hear them announce their dates for the girl's preference dance. "You're the Inspiration."

I love it when students ask sincere questions.

My Final Exam- Nice Assignment Huh?

Create your own video slideshow at animoto.com.

Thanksgiving

I love being around family. I just talked to my younger sister, who is living in Hawaii going to college there. We talked to her through "Skype," which was fun, but I could not help but miss her and feel nostalgic.

This is the holiday that I miss home the most because it is the one that cannot be replicated anywhere except my Aunt Harvey's white columned, plantation home, porch complete with Nana and groupings of cousins, second cousins, family, friends, and that random addition to the circle that I don't know yet. I often recognize faces, but don't know how they are connected to our clan.

I haven't been home for Thanksgiving in over five years, but I can still smell the smells, and every year, I miss the hayride, the cold spread at 1:00, the Styrofoam cups reeking with potent permanent marker. My sister Erica says that she hasn't been back there for Thanksgiving in ten years; so we're trying to do it here. I tried playing "Crack the Whip" with my nieces from the west, but it's not the same as Becca or Diedra yanking our arms out of socket as they run us in circles with the sounds of laughter coming from the two story playhouse sitting in the cold grass and mud out back.

I miss the accents. I miss the off-color comments and seeing my Dad in his element, talking casually and energetic with his people. I miss my Mom fluttering around, helping Aunt Harvey with whatever prep work there is left, or hunting down her cakes that people are trying to steal instead of share. I miss hearing Aunt Barbara ask me, "how are you sweetheart or darlin'?" I miss hiding out with my sisters, watching Luke as he lays on his blanket, playing with my eastern and southern nieces and nephews, and then awkwardly trying to join in conversations with cousins who are my age, even though I didn't know them well.

Being out here in California is great. The macaroni pie is here. Some family is here. I am blessed, but I still feel so far from home. I dream of being back in South Carolina, where I make the annual trip to the tacky bargain barn. Man, I want to buy some cheap lipstick there or get some for free from Aunt Kay or Aunt Harvey.