It's almost Christmas!

Despite baking Christmas cakes, going “light-seeing”, listening to Christmas music (both in class and at home), and exchanging gifts, it really hasn’t felt like Christmas time yet. Maybe it has to do with being in school until December 21st. It’s hard to feel the joy of the season when you’ve got papers to grade, lessons to plan, and 12 year olds to babysit. Because that’s pretty much what it felt like this week: babysitting.

Wednesday was an utter waste of time and energy. It was a half-day, which already spells worthless in my book. The kids come to school with the mindset that they won’t do any work, which is evident by their lack of back packs and basic school supplies. This half-day, even the teachers felt the same way. We had a Christmas program scheduled for the first hour or so of the day, and from there it becomes a matter of feeding children and controlling chaos. But of course, nothing went according to schedule, so I had no idea what was going on for pretty much the whole day. And what’s more annoying than not knowing what’s going on? Oh, say, 100 kids asking you what’s going on. By the end of the day, I was practically shoving kids out my door. “See you in 2012!” was my catch phrase as I walked the kids out to the buses. Praise. The. Lord.

Now the fun could really begin. The rest of the evening was stress-free, filled with laughter and conversation that did not revolve around school or students or test scores. The staff went out to eat and exchanged secret Santa gifts, with nothing hanging over our heads except a week and a half of break.

I absolutely love the people I work with. My principal is hard-working, but she is down to earth and never expects more from us than what she herself is willing and able to give. She is real about our “situation” as a low-performing school, and her honesty is refreshing. My fellow teachers are fun-loving and hysterical. But by far my favorite people are the women I work most closely with, the other 7th grade teachers.

Last year, on those mornings when I would rather get hit by a bus than try to manage the chaos that was my 8th period, I got up to go to work because if nothing else, I knew I’d have fun with my coworkers during our common planning time.

This year, I look forward to our unofficial morning meetings in the hallway, where we mingle for maybe a little too long to watch the chaos that is the 8th grade and bask in the glory of our well-behaved (and well-trained) 7th graders. We are a strong team, mostly because we all like each other and work well together. And apparently, we play well together, too. After our staff dinner, the 7th grade team went shopping “on the town”, making trips to Target and Old Navy, and creating a scene along the way. We had so much fun, and it was a great way to kick off break.

Now, all is right in Glen Allen--Amanda and I are both home, and we are currently preparing for happy hour with our parents.

It's beginning to feel a little more like Christmas...

Baby Jackson?

Playing a "literacy" game I call "A to Z"--students must come up with one word for each letter of the alphabet within a certain category. This week's category: Christmas, of course.

Here's what happened when I tried to help one group....


Student: "Miss H--we need somethin that start with a J."

Miss H: "Hmm okay. Here's one. Who was born on Christmas? Baby......"

Student: "Jackson?"




Is it break yet? Two and a half days and counting....

Goodbye Enfield, Hello Orlando!

After a day like today, Florida couldn't sound any better. Nothing more than kids being kids...and driving me crazy. I dropped the bomb yesterday that I would be leaving for the next three days to go to a conference in Orlando, and while many of my kids seemed disappointed, I'm worried about the kids who I know were silently celebrating in their heads. I can hear their mischievous brains working now...

"You thought one day was chaotic, and now you're leaving us for three?"

It's about to get real.

We're about to find out how extraordinary my class really is. We've been working on becoming a class that other people talk about in a good way, since so much of the talk about Enfield is negative. Some of the kids have put everything they have into being the best, into being different than what other people expect when they walk into our classroom. And some of my students are fine being just plain old "ordinary", as we call them. It doesn't seem to bother them. In fact, I fear that they may even take a little joy in being the weakest link, if for no other reason than the attention that it gets them. I fear for those babies and their lives outside of school.

And while I am excited for the trip, there is still so much to be done. I've taken to recording my voice on every slide of my presentations for each of the three days that I"m gone, so that there will be no confusion about my expectations for each assignment. Which takes forever, by the way. And even still, I need to type up my sub plan to avoid things like, "But Miss H always lets us use the bathroom!" (No she doesn't.) Or, "We go to lunch right away." (No we don't.)

So one more late night of working, one more early morning of setting up my classroom, and then it's off for an afternoon flight to Orlando, and 3 and a half days of Floridian winter (and the conference, of course).

I'll be anxious to see my sub report when I get back. Fingers crossed!

If you were the President...

Do Now Assignment:

1. If you were the President of the United States, what is the first change you would make in America?

Student Responses:

"Stop getting AIDS."


"Change the law of passing math."



"I would change the drug dealers their will not be no drugs."


"I would let the people out of jail." (Upon clarification I learned that yes, she meant ALL the people. She would let everyone out of jail.)


I know you missed this.

Miss H on Senior Year

I've been trying to think of a way to introduce this link for the past 30 minutes of my planning, and I can't come up with anything. Probably because my thoughts are interrupted every 15 seconds with the distant shrieks in the hallways, students stopping by my door for a pencil or a hug or a complaint about their progress report, and the ever-growing to do list on my computer.

So here it is.

Want to see me fumbling my way through giving advice to 4th year college students? Jump over to the Career Services webpage and click on my picture or the "Senior" tab at the top of the page.

A quick shout to my former boss at the Career Center, Elsie. Thanks for being a loyal follower of my blog, a cheerleader for my students, and a firm believer in me. I appreciate your encouragement more than you know!

Counting down until the weekend...5 class periods until freedom.

Happy Halloween!

I wasn't planning on dressing up for Halloween this year. In fact, I actually HATE dressing up or going anywhere where other people are dressed up. Costumes lose their charm when they are all preceded by the word "sexy". And I certainly was not going to dress up for school. I love my kids, but I don't need to give them reasons to make fun of me.

That all changed at 9 pm last night. My roommate emailed me a list of "punny" Halloween costume ideas, because we all know I love a good pun or corny joke. I was flipping through them, not actually looking for an idea, when I saw it: the perfect math teacher costume. And then, a star was born. With some black construction paper and a few safety pins, I had myself a winner:



I'll admit, it's not quite as obvious as some of the others, but once you figure it out it's pretty awesome. Just think for a second...I'm orange. What's orange at Halloween? A pumpkin. What symbol is on my shirt? Ohhhhhhhhh now you get it. And you're laughing. A lot. Either at my ridiculousness, or at how stinkin' funny (punny) I am. (In case you missed it....I'm pumpkin "pi". Laugh away.)

The kids? They didn't get it at first. It took some 'splainin. And once they did get it, some of them just looked at me with blank stares like, really Miss H? You think that's funny?

They obviously don't know me well enough yet. But have no fear, I'll have them trained to laugh at my corny jokes soon enough, slappin' their knees and at least pretending to laugh. My kids from last year thought I was hysterical today. They remember all I taught them.

It's 8:15, it's raining, and we've only had 1 trick or treater. Looks like Halloween is going to pass by the Ponderosa pretty quietly. But we're fine with that, because it means November is waiting to swoop in. Which means we can begin the countdown for 1) Thanksgiving break and 2) Christmas music. Woot woot!

Sick Day

It started on Monday. My voice slowly began to fade away. At first, I thought it was just from a combination of talking all day and straining my voice even more in practice after school. By the end of the day, I could barely talk. Tuesday morning I woke up to a sore throat and a stuffy nose, and I was no better on Wednesday.

By Thursday morning, I felt like crap. My throat still hurt, my voice was barely audible, and both of my ears hurt. Not to mention I was exhausted, as usual. I began devising a plan for taking a sick day. I couldn't just call in sick, because I had never submitted my emergency lesson plans like I was supposed to, so there was nothing for a sub to do with my kids. But I certainly wasn't going to make it through the day. I needed to see a doctor before it got any worse, and I couldn't wait until after school. So as I drove to school that morning, I called our secretary and asked her to find me a sub for at least half a day, if not the full day. I explained that I was on my way to school to prepare for the day and put on my most pathetic voice possible (well, that wasn't too much of a stretch) to emphasize my desperation.

Lo and behold, our administrative assistant came through. I spent homeroom period typing up a quick sub plan and making sure everything was in place. I didn't tell my kids I was leaving until the substitute arrived, for fear that something would go wrong and my dreams would be dashed. She finally showed up about 5 minutes into first period, and I was so grateful. I knew I needed this day off both for my physical health and my sanity. I felt a little guilty walking out the door, but mostly just pure, sweet relief.

And that's how I know I've grown so much since last year.

Last year, when I finally broke down and took a mental health day (it wasn't until February, I believe), I was terrified. Terrified of leaving my class in someone else's hands, terrified of how excited the kids would be to have a break from me for a day, and terrified that they wouldn't want me to come back. Terrified that the substitute would comment on the lack of procedures in my classroom, and the chaos that ensued as a result. And terrified that one day would derail us for the rest of the year.

Last year, I felt so guilty about taking a day off that it almost hurt. I didn't want anyone to think I was a slacker or a pansy. I obsessed over losing a day's worth of pay of an already embarrassingly low salary. How could they not pay me, when all I was going to do was curl up in my bed and work anyway?

My, how things have changed.

Oh, there was certainly still chaos while I was gone. I got reports of students crawling on my floor pretending that they were in war, shooting imaginary weapons at each other with the appropriate sound effects. Students plucking paper at each other with rubber bands. Talking during their quiz. "Joaning" and making fun of each other. And carrying their craziness into other classrooms.

I still felt a small sting of annoyance at losing a day's pay, especially as I forked over the co-pay for urgent care and for an antibiotics prescription.

So...wait. How exactly have things changed, you ask?

I forgot all about my paycheck as I drove down Roanoke Avenue in the middle of the day, enjoying weekday sunshine for the first time in weeks. I finally got to get my oil changed, make a trip to the post office, and beat the after-work crowd at Walmart. I felt productive in a way that wasn't at all related to work. Last year, I worked from 7:30 am until bedtime, using my sick day as a "work-all-day-to-catch-up" day instead. There was no rest, no relief, and no sense of satisfaction.

Before I left school Thursday, my sweet homeroom babies, they begged me not to go. I even had one kid offer to pay me to stay (I will admit I hestitated at this one). Last year, I can guarantee you that most kids were high-fiving the second they found out I was absent.

When I went back on Friday, many of the kids greeted me with words such as, "Thank goodness you are back, they was bad yesterday, they never woulda acted like that if you was here! Please don't ever leave again." Last year, I bet my kids would have been praying for another day with out me. And let's be honest. They way the acted with the sub...well, that's pretty much how they acted with me.

This year, even the principal stopped to tell me that the chaos was not my fault; that there were clearly procedures in place, they were just not carried out appropriately. And of course, 12 year olds will be 12 year olds if no one tells them otherwise. Last year, it was most definitely my fault (at least in part).

This year, when I had conversations with the "troublemakers" from the day before, they hung their heads in embarrassment instead of grinning mischeviously at their victory. My kids know that Miss H don't play.

Obviously, I would have preferred to come back to reports that everything went perfectly, that the students had stepped up and led the class, and that there didn't even need to be an adult in the room because my babies knew exactly what to do. That would surely be the mark of an incredible teacher: one whose expectations can be carried out even when she is absent.

But I'm also a little bit thankful that my kids acted the way they did, because it reminded me of a few things. First, that no matter what the kids say, they need structure, and they like it. The number of kids that complained about the lack of control on Thursday was proof enough that they like knowing what to expect and how to act.

Second, that I've come so far from where I was this time last year. Not just as a teacher, but personally. I was able to make a sound decision about what was best for me, and it didn't take me until February to see that I needed a break. And no matter what may have happened while I was gone, it couldn't make me feel guilty for taking that day off. I needed it, so I took it. Act like zoo animals, for all I care...I needed drugs (antibiotics, of course).

And third, a little ego boost never hurt anyone. It was nice to know that my kids would never dream about behaving that way if I was there, and that they actually cared about my reaction when I got back. And that other adults recognized that it was not my lack of procedures that was the problem.

It all kind of reminds me of one of my favorite childhood books, Miss Nelson is Missing. Remember that book? So good.

This weekend, I have the house to myself in Roanoke Rapids. I'm using the quiet to really rest. I'm still not 100% better, but the down time has helped me recoop and allowed me to get ahead on my work this week so I can rest during the week, too.

As Rihanna says, "Cheers to the freakin' weekend."

Literacy and Drugs

It's no secret that our school system is low-performing. It's no secret that we've got a lot of growing to do to get us out from under the state's thumb. And it's no secret that our kids have a long way to go to meet the standards that have been set for them.

This school year, our county has added on an additional 30 minutes to the school day, presumably to help raise test scores and move our students closer to success. At our school in particular, that 30 minutes has been tacked on as an extra class at the end of the day, a period that is supposed to focus on increasing literacy among our students.

At first, those extra 30 minutes were killer. Students and teachers alike were used to walking out the door at 3:00, just seconds away from freedom. Students were confused about the point of those 30 minutes; without a structured activity, it felt like free time. Teachers like me were frustrated by having another period to plan, and the transition from a content class to "literacy period" felt artificial and uncomfortable. And what do kids even care about literacy, anyways? They don't like to read, and they definitely don't like to write (mostly because they struggle immensely with both).

Now, planning literacy time is something I genuinely look forward to. Why, you ask? Because the 7th grade team has started using a resource called "Word Generation". According to its website...

"Word Generation is a research-based vocabulary program for middle school students designed to teach words through language arts, math, science, and social studies classes. The program employs several strategies to ensure that students learn words in a variety of contexts." (www.wg.serpmedia.org)

Each Word Generation lesson is focused on a controversial issue that is relevant to the kids and/or important to discuss, and is written in the form of a question: Should single-gender education be an option in public schools? Should athletes be paid multi-million dollar salaries? Should junk food be allowed in schools? Should the U.S. use the death penalty? What kind of health education is the best (abstience vs. safe sex)? Each lesson includes a short article with 5 focus words, a math problem of the week, topics for debate, a science experiment, and a writing prompt. Last week, we discussed whether or not boys and girls should be separated in schools, made a pros and cons chart, watched a news clip about a school that does this, solved a math problem on the same topic, and wrote letters to our principal to defend our positions. This week, our topic was "Should drugs be legalized?" It was refreshing to have a mature conversation about a topic that is very controversial and, for some of these kids, hits close to home. And the best part: the kids have no idea that they are improving their literacy. Learning vocabulary, reading an article, communicating their ideas orally, and defending their arguments in words--we're making the most of this 30 minutes, and the kids are actually engaged. I will say, we have a long way to go with their writing and arguing skills, though. Below, I've included some samples from this past week's discussion. Please note that I took special care to spell everything exactly as they did. And pay special attention to the logic they use...it's frightening and hysterical at the same time.

Enjoy!

“Drugs shoud be legal, but only for people over 21. This will keep more teenagers from getting addicted because if drugs where legal more people will stay alive and if it was legalized more people will be dead that why drugs should be legal. They will be skinny”

“I agree with D because teenagers sould not be on durgs because they get reallie addicted to it and end up getting killed. But people over 21 sould use it for there needs. Not for a bad reason, some use it durgs for medicane for there problems.”

“because, say if I were to have some weed and I were to give it to that person and he were to ask for it and I wouldn’t have it and then he might either kill me or beat me up.”

“I think drugs should be legalized because people who on drgs they get real skinny and if they wont on drugs they would be thier regular sizes.”


This week, our topic is affirmative action. I'm excited to see where the discussion leads. I love having conversations that involve race, because it's something the kids aren't exposed to very often since they are in a very homogenous community. I also love to watch them squirm when I say the word "white". I can't WAIT to make them say it, too.

Heard in Room A410....

Writing prompt: "What would you do with $1,000,000?"
Student: "If I just won 1 million dollars I will spend it on a house car and save the rest of it. And I also will move and give my mom and dad some."
Miss H: "You'd move out, now? Who would cook for you and help you clean?"
Student: "I cook. I make spagheeettti, macarooooniii..."
Miss H: "Can you cook anything that's not pasta?"
Student: "Yeah, pasta salad!"

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


Volleyball girl: "Miss H, you don't look white."
Miss H: "What?"
Volleyball girl: "You don't look white."
Miss H: "What do I look like?"
Volleyball girl: "I dunno....yellow?"
Volleyball girl #2: "You don't act white either."

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Student: "Miss H...can you put me up for adoption?"
Miss H: "You want me to put you in a foster home?"
Student: "Naw, I want you to be my momma!"
Miss H: "Oh, you want me to adopt you. Be careful, two different things."

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Student: "We playin those rednecks today...oh, sorry Miss H."
Miss H: "I'm not offended. I may be white, but I'm not a redneck."
Student: "But you ain't really white!"
Miss H: "Psh!"
Student: "What, you think it's bad to be black?"
Miss H: "No, I just think it's pretty obvious that I'm white.
Student: "You don't act white!"

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Volleyball girl: "I ont like that girl. She saying we ghetto."
Miss H: "So, own it!" (Finger snap)
Volleyball girl: "Oooooh, Miss H went hood on us!"

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

VB Girl: "Black people are ghetto."
Miss H: "ALL black people are ghetto?"
VB Girl 2: "Naw, that's a status."
Miss H: "A what?!"
VB Girl 2: "A status."
Miss H: "You mean a stereotype? A status is something you update on facebook."
VB Girl 2: "Whatever."

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Student (boy): "Miss H, the only teacher with swag!"



Man, I love my life.

Peanuts, Please!

Where in the world was Courtney this time last Saturday?

Why, at the Inaugural Enfield Peanut Gallery 10K Run, of course.

Last week, at approximately 9:31 am, Lojo and I were lined up behind the spray-painted “START” line on a street in downtown Enfield, laughing hysterically as the town mayor shouted “Go!” to begin the first-ever Enfield 10K run.

Rewind to the beginning of August, when I received the weekly blast from the Roanoke Valley Chamber of Commerce, an email with the latest and greatest events happening around Ro Rap. I always at least skim through the bulletin, in hopes that something even semi-interesting might be happening to add a little flavor to our bland lives, but I am almost always disappointed.

Oh, but not this time. There, in that very email, was finally something of interest to the ladies of the Ponderosa: a 10K run in a town that was close to our hearts. We marked our calendars and told our kids that we would be participating in a run through the town, in hopes of earning some street cred and support (“You running 6 miles…in a row?”).

It snuck up on me. One minute we were hanging bulletin boards for back-to-school, and the next it was October 1. Lojo is training for a marathon, and her dedication to her training schedule is admirable if not frightening. I, on the other hand, hadn’t run in over two weeks, what with getting home close to 7 almost every night after volleyball practice. But I figured, hey, if I could run 13 miles 2 months ago, I can certainly handle 6 today. So we set out for the registration destination, but not before we convinced our neighbor to take a “before” picture in our cul-de-sac.


(No, I haven't gotten taller since moving to NC. Lojo just happens to be the one person in the world shorter than me.)

We arrived at Jennie’s Beans & Buns at 8:45 to ensure a spot in the race since we had neglected to pre-register. Jennie’s looks like any other old building in the area—old and uninviting. There were hardly any cars in the parking lot, and I was started to feel anxious. I had no idea what to expect, but I surely wasn’t expecting much.

The second we stepped inside the coffee shop, I was immediately taken aback. It looked so…normal! And cute, even! This was exactly the kind of place we had been looking for since we moved to Roanoke Rapids—a casual local spot to get some work done after school and on the weekends. And all this time it had been sitting in the middle of downtown Enfield, less than 3 miles from my school. This was the first surprise of many to come.

The place was empty except for two or three white ladies and the owner. All of the women were friendly and seemed excited to have us there. They signed us in, gave us our time chip and race numbers, and asked questions about where we lived and worked. As more people started to trickle in, we learned a little more about the event: a whopping 5 people had pre-registered, and they were already up to a total of 10 runners a mere 25 minutes before the race was to begin! I caught Lojo’s eyes and we both stifled laughs as we realized just how small this event was. We decided we were going to win this race, hands down, if there were only 8 other people running! And if nothing else, we’d at least win the ladies’ division. The only other women we saw didn’t look like much competition, anyways.

Our hopes were dashed when an Army recruiter, high school cross-country athlete, and a marathon runner walked in the shop just a few minutes later. We gave up on winning overall, but were still confident about our ability to be the first females to finish.

At 9:25, five minutes before the official start time, the race organizer (whose wife had checked us in) gathered around all 15 (!) runners and read off a list of people he wanted to thank for making this first Enfield Peanut Gallery 10K race possible. The list of people he thanked was definitely longer than the list of runners. He took a few minutes to explain how the course was marked, then walked us over to the start line (the word “Start” written in spray paint on the street) where the town mayor gave us the official “GO!”—and by that, I mean she literally just said the words, “Go!”….and we were off!

We died laughing for the first few minutes. This whole thing was just too much. Fifteen runners? A route marked with spray painted arrows and homemade mile marker signs? Running through Enfield? Oh, and our newest discovery—we were the only females running! The other two women we had seen were there either to cheer on their husbands or participate in the 1K “Fun Run”. So before we even started, we won the race!

It was a beautiful day, and the weather was perfect a run. The course took us through the streets of Enfield, where I saw a few of my students outside their houses, and along the railroad tracks. It even took us straight through a cotton field—as in, we were running on a dirt road with nothing but cotton on both sides of us. There were no other runners in sight—the men had all taken off ahead of us, determined to win. We, on the other hand, could go as fast or as slow as we pleased. After all, we were already the fastest female runners! There were even a few water stations along the way, but I can’t imagine it took more than a few bottles of water to hydrate all the participants.

At the end of the race, we received goodie bags with our very own Enfield 10K Peanut Gallery shirt and some other freebies. They presented a giant bag of peanuts to the male and female winners (Lojo beat me by a second!) and we laughed our way back to the car. With a hot coffee in hand (from our new favorite coffee shop, of course), we strolled the streets of downtown Enfield, where local residents were setting up booths for the annual Peanut Festival. I saw a few more of my kids and finally got to see the town in all its glory. We didn’t last long, though—we were starving and had plans to head to “civilization”, a.k.a. Rocky Mount, for the all-you-can-eat soup, salad, and breadsticks at Olive Garden to refuel (and the obvious stop at Target).

You can only imagine how much fun we had retelling that story to family and friends and basically anyone who would listen ("We got first in the women's division!!!!! Guess how many women we were running against? ZERO!") And it wouldn't be complete without a picture of us in our t-shirts and with the loot:



One of the best Saturdays in a long time.

RIP, SmartBoard

Today was a sad day in Miss Hiltunen's class. At approximately 11:00 am, in the middle of a lesson on finding greatest common factor, my precious, beloved, underappreciated SmartBoard met its end. With a flicker and a flash, it was gone. I knew it was coming. The board had been blinking for months, so it was only a matter of time. But it didn't make it any less depressing. Luckily, the lesson I had planned for today was not SmartBoard intensive. In fact, it was pretty hands-on. I went old school and wrote all the notes on the whiteboard (actually, I think old school would be writing on a chalk board), and the kids did really well rolling with it. Then, the kids split up into groups and used hula hoops to make giant Venn diagrams to find the GCF of a pair of numbers.



We hardly even noticed that the board wasn't working.

I think it's safe to say that had this happened last year, I would be in a tizzy, freaking out about what I was going to do until my board is fixed (most likely it will take over a week). Some of you may be shaking your head at the poor fools of my generation who don't know how to survive without technology. And while yes, not having technology is certainly an inconvenience, the issue goes beyond that. The SmartBoard has been installed dead-center in my classroom, which makes sense since my instruction typically revolves around it. However, it also means that I have very little whiteboard space, and what room I do have is off-center and is not visible to 25% of the class. So now the question becomes--how can I post ANY sort of notes or practice problems so that every student can see them? The million dollar question....

I've resigned myself to the fact that there's nothing I can do about it and it's not worth getting worked up over. It will definitely mean I'll have to do some very strategic planning this weekend, under the assumption that it will be a while before I have my board back. However, it could be worse. It could have happened on a Monday, after I had spent all weekend creating elaborate powerpoints. And, maybe, just maybe, I will actually enjoy a break from creating said elaborate powerpoints.

Before my 8th period class, I decided to draw a gravestone on my whiteboard next to the SmartBoard so the kids wouldn't ask me why I wasn't using my SmartBoard today. At some point in the period, probably during pack up, they decided to pay their respects to "S.B.", and I couldn't help but laugh when I saw it later that afternoon. My favorite--the misspelled version of "bye homie". Especially because I know some kid thought he was really clever, calling the SmartBoard "homie". If only he knew...


(imu = i miss you)


PS...We won both of our most recent volleyball matches...new record is 5 - 1!

3-1!

About two weeks ago, I was seriously wondering if coaching volleyball was a good decision for my personal sanity. It meant 12 hours a day at school, and still coming home with work to do. It meant forgoing my workout schedule and having less time to cook healthy meals to stay in shape. It meant collapsing into bed dead tired, and waking up feeling like I got hardly any sleep. And it meant 2 more hours a day with 12 and 13 year olds. It didn't feel worth it, and I was not sure I'd survive.

Today, many of those things are still true. I can't remember ever feeling this tired, both mentally and phsyically (although I can imagine I felt similar to this at some point last year). I hardly get 7 hours of sleep, and I haven't run in 2 weeks. But I'm loving it.

I'm loving the opportunity to be with such a great group of girls outside of school and really build relationships. I'm loving playing a sport that I miss so much, even if it's just standing in for a missing girl during practice. And I'm loving seeing the girls WIN and be excited about it.

As of yesterday, we're 3 - 1! We've only played two teams, but we play double headers because the schools are all so far apart and it limits the amount of travel. Our first match was away, and you could tell the girls were nervous. We lost in two games. But once the nerves were gone, we came back and won the next match in three games. The girls went NUTS--they pigpiled on top of the girl who served the winning point. They were so proud of themselves that they told everyone at school the next day that they won--and failed to mention that we also lost a match right before.

Yesterday, we played our second double header. The other team was significantly smaller and less talented. But the girls were equally as excited about winning 2 more matches, and it was so encouraging to see them celebrate their victories. The coach from the other team complimented our girls' talent, and it really meant a lot to me. Because two weeks ago, we looked rough. Balls were dropping on the court left and right. There was no communication, and we hardly looked like a team. I was honestly worried that we weren't ever going to win a game, much less a match. Not only did we not look so good, but I am an inexperienced coach and had no idea what drills to run in practice to make it effective. I was worried and frustrated and exhausted, and I wasn't having fun.

And then, I decided that it wasn't worth being stressed over. I decided that I just wanted it to be fun for the girls, and for it to be an opportunity to teach them about responsibility and working hard. I wanted them to focus on being a team and acting like one. To represent Enfield in a positive way, especially since there is so much negative attention on our school.

So far, I'd say it's been a success. Not only have they worked hard, they've been WINNING and making me proud to be their coach. I'm truly enjoying being on the sidelines of a game that I love with girls that I love, as well.

"Hey Miss H..." PART 2!

Student (same student from part 1): "...Ima bring pitt bulls to school tomorrow and let them bite all the teachers."

Miss H: "I'm going to write that up as a threat."

Student: "Naw, it wasn't a threat....I was serious!"

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Same student: "...Ima white boy."

Miss H: "Why do you want to be a white boy?"

Same student: "Cuz, I be doing skateboarding tricks."

Student #2: "Yeah, I got a skateboard and some skinny jeans."

Miss H: "Do you think all white boys wear skinny jeans?"

Student #2: "Yup."

Student #1: "Ima white boy. If anyone asks me whats my race, Ima say white African-American. My daddy be orange." (???)

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Same student: "___ said he be po'. He can't afford no lunch. Will you buy him lunch?"

Miss H: "How do you know I ain't po'? What, you think just because I'm white I'm rich?" (I love this line.)

Student #2: "You ain't white. You light-skinned."

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Same student: "And I'm just a herman being."

Miss H: "A what?"

Student: "A herman being!"

Miss H: "You mean a human being?"

Student: "It don't matter...it's the same thing!"


If only you could actually hear these babies talk. So much funnier.

"Hey Miss H..."

Student: "...where you stay?"

Miss H: "I stay in Roanoke Rapids."

Student: "Roanoke Rapids?"

Miss H: "Yes, Roanoke Rapids."

Student: "Oh, well...where you stay at?"

Miss H: "I'm not telling you my address."

Student: "Why not?"

Miss H: "Because I don't want you showing up at my house! Anyways, my address doesn't come up on a GPS." (This is true.)

Student: "What you mean? Everybody's house is on GPS."

Miss H: "My neighborhood is new and the street isn't on the map."

Student: "So you mean to tell me...If your house is on fire, and you call the fire department...how they gonna find your house?"

Miss H: Laughter. Nothing but laughter.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Student 1: "...I quit the football team."

Miss H: "Why?"

Student 1: "Because I won't pass my physical."

Student 2: "Do you even know what a physical is?"

Welcome Home, Baby!

So I mentioned in my last post that the Ponderosa was welcoming 4 new additions to the house. Well friends, today's the day. It will forever go down in history (although it already is), as the Day We Received Our Great Gift.

If you've walked past an Apple store anytime recently, you may have noticed the Teach for America display in the window. A few months ago, we caught wind of an advertisement in which Apple was asking people to donate first generation iPads for Teach for America classrooms. I remember thinking, "I wonder how they'll choose which classrooms to donate them to." I assumed it would be for big cities, like New York or Los Angeles, where they would get the most press. We never heard anything else about it, and to be honest I never thought much of it after that.

Then one morning in late August, we got an email from a fellow ENC corps member that set the Ponderosa abuzz. TFAnet, our Teach for America portal, had posted a news article that said that Apple was donating the refurbished iPads to EVERY TFA classroom. We were excited, but there was still a feeling of disbelief. It sounded too good to be true.

A few days later, we got an email from our regional office that confirmed what we saw: we were in fact receiving iPads for FREE, one for each classroom, and would get to pick them up within the next few weeks!

It became the talk of TFA. iPads? For FREE? (As a fellow corps member said, they certainly don't come free--the price is blood, sweat, and tears.)

Soon after, we received another email with the option to sign up for a pick up date and location. We chose Sunday, September 11 at the mall in Raleigh. We loved reminding each other of the beauty of what was to come. A free iPad, in our hands, in just a few short days. This weekend couldn't come soon enough.

And then, it was here. The bittersweet date: September 11, 2011. I felt guilty being so excited on such a somber day. It's a strange way to commemorate the 10th anniversary of 9/11. However, I can't help feeling a bit giddy about this new tool and the world of opportunities it opens up for my kids and our classroom.

So bright and early this morning, the four of us piled in the car and headed to Raleigh to pick up our new 64 GB babies. The Apple store was opening especially for us at 8:30 am, where we received basic training from the Genius Bar workers. I could hardly contain my excitement, as is evident below:




Now we're back home, all flopped around various parts of the living room, glued to the screens of our new iPads and brainstorming ways to use them in the classroom. It's a scary thought, the fingers of my grimy 12 year olds all over the screen of such a precious, precious piece of technology. But I know it will be a great incentive, and I'm excited to use it to enhance my instruction. If only I could set it down long enough to be productive....

On a more serious note...I'm in the process of planning how to discuss the events of 9/11 with my class tomorrow. It's hard to believe that most of my kids were only 2 or 3 when it happened, and I learned last year that many of them really don't know anything about it except that a few planes flew into a few buildings. Especially since I remember moments from that day so vividly, even though I was only in the 8th grade. I remember hearing the news in Social Studies, and our teacher rushing us over to the science classroom to listen to the radio. I remember the announcement that came on that forbade the teachers from turning on the televisions. I remember being terrified when I heard one of the planes that crashed had left from the Boston airport, because I knew my mom was supposed to fly home that day from Logan International. I remember that all after school activities were cancelled. I remember walking home from the bus stop that day, stopping at the end of our cul-de-sac with tears in my eyes, wondering how such an awful thing could happen on such a beautiful day. The sky was clear, the sun was bright, and the flowers were still in bloom, but something just didn’t feel right. We found out my mom wouldn’t be able to come home for a few days, and my dad knew we were upset, so he took us out to dinner that night. We sat outside to enjoy the weather, but now I suspect it was also to avoid the televisions that were replaying the sickening footage over and over again. I remember I kept thinking, “Why?”, but no one had answers.

There is so much to talk about, yet I don't even know where to begin. I want to show videos, I want to have discussions, I want them to experience what it felt like to be a part of the events that day in even the smallest of ways. But most importantly, i want them to take it seriously and to be grateful for what we have. It's so easy to talk about September 11th one minute and then forget it ever happened the next, but the truth is it is still very much apart of our country's present. There are still people sacrificing so much for us to be what we are and have what we have. To all of you--thank you a million times over.

A good friend of mine found a website a few years ago that allows you to show your support for our troops by adopting a pen pal and sending a letter to a serviceman or servicewoman once a week (much better than the first program she found, writing to prisoners. A bit sketchy if you ask me.) I "adopted" my first solider from AdoptAPlatoon.org my junior year in college and wrote letters once a week for the length of his deployment. At the end of last school year, I signed up again and have been writing to another soldier once a week for the past few months. If you are looking for a way to show your support, check out the website. If you're worried that you wouldn't know what to say, don't worry, I never know, either. I just write. I update him on what's going on in the United States and in my classroom. I tell the occasional story about a crazy child or a fun adventure. And I always try to remember to say "thank you" in some way, shape, or form. I'm ashamed at how easily I forget all the men and women who have given up so much for us and put their lives on the line everyday. And recently, when I'm feeling frustrated with my job, that letter to Iraq reminds me of how grateful I am for all that I have, and the people that make it possible. All it takes is a stamp and some kind words.

Can I get a "TGIF"?

It’s been a while since I have fully appreciated the sweet relief of a Friday evening.

Last year, it was akin to feeling like the elephant that has been standing on your back all week finally lifted his giant hoof up one tiny yet somehow liberating inch. There was still so much to be done, but the beauty was that nothing had to be done right away. You could come home and collapse on the couch for a solid 20 minutes before you started to feel guilty about not grading that stack of papers that had been looming all week. By January, Fridays were absolutely necessary for preserving sanity. And by May, they became the benchmark by which you measure the rest of the year: “We just need to get to Friday, and then we only have 2 more weeks!” They were that last shred of hope when you felt so close, yet so far, from that glorious last day.

And then there’s summer. When the days of the week really only determine which reruns you catch each night and, for me, how many miles I had to run to keep up with my training schedule. And even then, Friday just meant I was one day closer to my dreaded long run on Sunday.

Today, Friday just felt like the logical next step after four days of long hours and hard work. It was about time. I was tired, both physically and mentally, and it just didn’t seem right to have another weekday. So, Friday swooped in and rescued me. We celebrated the end of the week by ordering pizza, but I think we were all really just too tired to have to cook. I wish I could come up with some clever analogy for my second year, but I’m too tired to think about it. I will say, though, that the elephant hasn’t found me yet. Let’s hope it stays that way.

Coming off of a 10 day mini-vacation (thanks to five, I repeat five days off due to Hurricane Irene and a holiday weekend), this week hit me like a ton of bricks. It was only four school days, but they were the first four days in a row since May, and in a weird way I felt very out of shape. Remembering 100 new names and faces, standing on my feet for 8 hours a day, using both my teacher voice and my teacher stare, keeping children focused and under control despite a ridiculous amount of stimuli and hormones, and molding them to be the “extraordinary” students that I know they can be. I forgot how exhausting it is.

Oh, and hey, in case I wasn’t already tired enough, let’s add another two hours to the day by coaching volleyball. By myself. With 20 girls, 6 volleyballs, and a net that’s 4 inches too short. Thank goodness it’s the sport with the shortest season. As much as I loved playing volleyball, coaching is a different story. In theory, it sounded great. In reality…not so much. Only because I never realized how difficult it is to teach someone how to play a sport, especially when most of those someones aren’t…shall we say, athletically inclined? I get so frustrated, not with the girls, but with the fact that I really don’t know how to explain the appropriate way to set the ball. You just…set it. I don’t know! And running practice with one coach and 20 girls is not easy. Thank goodness it’s middle school and we’re not trying to defend a previous title or anything. Hopefully I’ll eventually be able to find some fun in it. But right now, it’s just one more thing on the list, and one more reason I’m grateful for Friday.

Here’s the great thing. I know it’s only been six days, and maybe I’m crazy for saying this so early. But I love my job so much more than I did even 3 or 4 months ago. It may have something to do with the fact that I’m actually able to do my job right now, as opposed to spending half of each class period dealing with kids fighting or “joaning” or throwing things across the room behind my back (and on the worst days, throwing things AT me). Now that I’ve got it figured out about 1% more than I did last year, it’s so much more enjoyable. I know teaching is one of those careers where you can always get better, and you can never have it figured out, but I’ve definitely got it down a whole lot better than last year.

Have I mentioned how much I love the women I work with? They threw me a surprise birthday party during our planning, complete with snacks, drinks, cake, and ice cream, since we didn’t get to celebrate on my actual birthday grâce à Hurricane Irene. It was nice to have a breather and socialize with someone other than 12 and 13 year olds, and especially sweet that it was in my honor. Any excuse for a party during planning, and the 7th grade team is all over it.

It’s way, way past my bedtime, but some exciting news (more on that later) and an overdose on belgian chocolate wafers have kept me up long enough to get in a new post. Be on the lookout for a post early next week about the 4 new additions coming soon to the Ponderosa (don’t worry, no children or pets involved). Oh, and see below for a few pictures of my updated classroom.



Just some of the supplies from my generous family and friends, organized in my cabinet. The green cube is FULL of stuff, and behind the buckets are stacks and stacks of pencils and pens. Plus stacks of paper above. You all are ridiculous! (PS, I've gotten two more boxes since--thanks Becky and Amanda!)







This poster is currently sitting on the floor, after hours of hard work, because NOTHING sticks to those darn cinderblock walls. Someday i'll get it back up there.

Confidence is Key

I know I’m a week late, and I also know I have no excuses since I’ve had so much free time on my hands (that’s a story for another day). But here it is: part one of the first days of school series.

As I was reading my posts from this time last year for some inspiration, I couldn’t help but laugh at how naïve and unsuspecting I was. Those first few days were great—I was on top of the world, and had all the confidence in the world in my kids. But as the year wore on, the days got worse before they got better, and there were certainly days where I wondered what I was doing and how I would ever survive. I was run over by 12 and 13 (and some 14) year olds, and some days I just gave up.

This year, I knew confidence was key. And luckily, as I stood in my position outside the auditorium at 7:25 Thursday morning, watching the kids trail in from the buses, all the nerves I felt in the car that morning were replaced with a surge of energy and confidence. And I got right to work doing what I do best: being bossy.

“Tuck in your uniform. Tuck in your uniform. Thanks for having your uniform tucked in. You’re going to hear it from three more people as you walk by, so you might as well just do it now. Tuck in your uniform.”

I felt established and legitimate. Thirty seconds into the new school year, and I was already laying down the law. Kids recognized me and knew about me, and that automatically gave me a leg up from where I was this time last year. I was no longer the new white lady; I was Miss H…and Miss H don’t play. The other staff members and I were sending the message that this was a new year, and we meant business, beginning with the way you looked when you walked through those doors.

My nerves came back a little as we stood in the auditorium with all of the kids, waiting for our opening day announcements. I realized that these new 7th grade babies were all mine, and I didn’t know anything about a single one of them. And those 8th graders in the middle? They used to be mine, but now they were someone else’s. In some cases, I was relieved. In others, I was sad and jealous of the teacher that would get my sweet, sweet babies. But mostly, I was proud to see them sitting in the spot that was reserved for the “upperclassmen”, proud that I could say I taught them.

Part of the first day announcements is to introduce the staff and call out the homeroom rosters. Each teacher was called to the front, and the students responded with polite applause and the occasional cheer. As I waited for my name, I started to worry that some of my more difficult students from last year would boo me. After all, so many of my students spent so much time last year complaining, rolling their eyes, smacking their lips, harassing me and probably cursing me under their breath when I walked by (and those were my good kids). I had good relationships with a handful of my kids, but I always felt like there was a barrier that I couldn’t break down. By the end of the year, I wasn’t sure how many of my kids I had actually reached.

Our principal began calling the 7th grade team, and I sucked in my breath, ready to walk with my head held high despite the impending humiliation. But when my name was called, I made my way down to the stage to an uproar of cheers and applause from the same babies who had caused me so much heartache just months ago. I didn’t hear a single boo, and the other teachers raised their eyebrows at the ruckus and smiled at me as I took my place at the front. My eyes watered as I fought back tears, swelling with pride at the possibility that maybe, just maybe these kids finally understand how much I just wanted them to succeed last year, and that everything I did, right down to raising my voice and sending kids to the office, was done because I truly believed it was what was best for them.

Or maybe they just “like” me in some superficial, less rewarding way. It’s hard to tell.

Either way, I was incredibly moved and inspired by my kids’ enthusiasm. I knew that on some level, I had had success with my kids from last year, and I could do it again this year. I couldn’t help but think it was exactly what my new babies needed to hear. They were about to learn that Miss H is strict and has really high expectations of her students. But it was good for them to see that strict does not mean unlikable or mean.

Stay tuned for more on strict Miss H. If you don't believe it....well, believe it, 'cause it's true: Miss H don't play.

Ask, And You Shall Receive

You must be sick of it now, all this talk of school supplies. But this post is much needed and overdue.

I am so overwhelmed by the amount of support that I received. I’ve already posted about my first two donations, from my grandparents and my college friends. I couldn’t believe that my words actually meant something, and that they actually turned into a box and bag of school supplies at my door. I was so grateful for those notebooks, pens, pencils, dry erase markers, paper, etc., that I never even stopped to imagine that there would be more.

And then…there WAS more. So much more. Over the next few weeks, I had NINE more people/families donate supplies. My friends (who are probably just as broke as me—an extra thank you!), my parents’ friends, family, and family of friends brought me bags filled to the brim, mailed packages, and dropped boxes off at my parent’s house. My car was packed solid as I headed back to North Carolina, and my closet became my very own Staples Office Supply store.

Of course, I had to empty it all out on the living room floor so I could sort through it, organize it, and try to grasp just how much you all donated. And let me just say, I was floored (ha, get it?). No, but really. There I sat, in the middle of your gifts, and I was humbled by how generous you all are. I never expected to receive so much. My intention for writing the blog was just to make people aware of how much money teachers spend, and hopefully encourage people to consider spending just a few dollars for the sake of one of their friends’ classrooms. I never imagined that all of those donations would come to me and my classroom. I have been able to share your donations with my teacher friends in need, and stock my cabinets at school to help my grade level team. You have no idea just how grateful I am for every single school supply donated—for each tiny little pencil top eraser, every individual sheet of paper, and that pack of 15 whiteboard markers (believe me, I know how expensive those are—THANK YOU!).

I do want to make sure that everyone who had any part in donating is acknowledged. You all are too good to me, and I love you all! For the sake of being in a public domain, I won’t use last names. But a big thank you to:

Memere & Pepere
Memere & Grampy
Mom & Dad
Jess
Malinda
Meg & Ryan
Morgan
Christian & Joey
Emily & Miller
Brittany & Matt
Kaye

In total, here’s how you all have helped my “babies” and the babies of my friends (read on for numbers and pictures:

900+ pencils
10+ boxes of markers, crayons, & colored pencils
15+ packs of paper
15 binders (13 of which were filled with supplies!)
30+ dry erase markers
12+ glue sticks
15+ rulers
150+ erasers
120+ pens
And much more.





I can't say it enough. THANK YOU, THANK YOU, THANK YOU! My kids don't know it yet, but they appreciate it, and of course, so do I.

(Thanks Britt Hack for the inspiration for the title.)

Just in case you were wondering....

....we now have to clock in and out at work, and my records show that I spent over 50 hours at school this week.

That doesn't even count the hours I've worked at home.



And I get paid WHAT?



An update on the first days of school to come this week. For now, read about my half-marathon adventure below. Two posts in two days!

Raining on Run Day

It’s fitting that I finally get around to writing this post now, as Hurricane Irene starts to make her way through Roanoke Rapids.

As you may know, I spent the last month of the past school year and the entire summer training for a half-marathon. I don’t know how I was talked into it so easily, and more importantly how I became so determined to make it. But I was disciplined and stuck to a schedule, and before I knew it I actually felt like a runner.

It was the first week in August. Summer was ending and the big race was approaching. The five-day forecast said race day would be perfect running weather: partly cloudy, chilly in the morning, and warming up later in the day. I enjoyed four days with family in Salem and Providence and tried to keep my mind off the race, for fear of psyching myself out. I stopped checking the forecast, because I knew that if I saw even a chance of rain I would convince myself I couldn’t do it. Saturday night, we packed our things, headed to our hotel near the starting line, and went to bed early. I wasn’t really excited or nervous, just ready for it to be over.

I woke up early Sunday morning, rolled out of bed, and went straight to the window. When I opened the curtains, my stomach dropped: it was raining. Or at least, it was gray and the ground was wet. I couldn’t tell if it was still raining outside, but it didn’t look promising. As I pulled on my running skirt (yes, skirt) and shoes and tucked my energy jellybeans into my pocket, I wondered all over again how I ever agreed to do this. I hadn’t slept well the night before, so the rain just added another layer to my grumpiness. Standing in the lobby of the hotel, I was painfully aware of two things: that it was in fact raining, and that the rain didn’t seem to put a damper on anyone else’s mood but mine. Our hotel must have been occupied by hundreds of runners, because the lobby was full of people stretching and bouncing around like it was Christmas morning. The energy in the lobby just annoyed me even more. There were days during my training that I just really did not want to run, days that took all my willpower to convince myself to even get out of bed and get in my running clothes. But this day topped them all. I have never felt so strongly about not wanting to run, ever. When we stepped outside, it only got worse. It wasn’t just raining…it was pouring. We had to walk to the starting line in the rain, and the whole way there I was wondering how many people would really blame me if I turned around and crawled back into bed. I have a feeling dad was thinking something similar, but we both just kept walking (well, truth be told, I complained most of the way).

Oh, but it gets better. This was the first annual Rock ‘N Roll Marathon in Providence, so we should have known that there would be kinks. The first wave of runners was supposed to begin at 7:00 am, so we took our place in the tenth wave promptly at 6:55. But alas, there we stood in the rain 7:05, 7:10, 7:15, waiting, waiting, waiting. Not even so much as an announcement as to why it was taking so long. I was already drenched before we even started running. I was even more annoyed because not only were we standing shoulder to shoulder with the other runners and soaking wet, but no one else seemed to care that it was raining. Finally, the corrals started moving and we were off.

My saving grace on this run was my fantastic playlist. Just hearing the beat of the first song immediately gave me a shot of energy, and I took of with a smile, yes a SMILE. I just started laughing to myself, thinking, “Am I really about to do this? Run 13.1 miles in the rain?” I guess so.

It rained the entire race. In fact, it poured during some parts. We went uphill, downhill, around sharp corners with big puddles, and alongside the water. Our only relief came when we ran under the occasional overpass. Dad and I stayed together for most of it, but he took off ahead of me a few times. I had never run 13.1 miles before, and especially not in the rain, and knew I needed to be careful and pace myself so I didn’t have to stop and walk. Dad has run three half marathons in a matter of months (and is running another one today!), so I didn’t feel bad about watching him go ahead of me. This was my first, and my goal was just to finish.

The strangest thing happened. As I was running, I was actually happy. I was happy that I had been so disciplined this summer, that I was accomplishing a goal I honestly never thought I’d even set, much less reach, and I was happy that I had some good new music on my iPod. I felt proud of myself for toughing it out, and even more so when I saw people that had to stop at walk as early as mile 2 (I’m sorry, if you’re going to stop at mile 2, why bother?) and mile 6 and mile 10 and I was still chugging along.

And then, I hit a wall. At mile 12, with only 1.1 miles to go, I felt like giving up. I wanted to walk so badly. I was exhausted, I was soaking wet, the rain was weighing down my skirt, and I already knew that we weren’t going to make Dad’s goal time. Couldn’t it just be over? The finish line was in sight, but so was another hill. To get to the end, I had to first trudge up one last hill, one that felt bigger than any of the rest, but in reality was probably the least of them all (but really, a hill at the end? That’s just cruel.). Dad and I crossed the finish line together, clocking in at 2:11:00, averaging a 10 minute mile. I had hoped for a little faster, but the rain was my excuse, and I was just happy to be done.

I DID IT. I ran a half marathon. And ran the whole time. In the rain. With wet, heavy sneakers and a saggy running skirt (the skirt thing is my fault). And I actually enjoyed it.

Ask me if I’ve run since.

Merry Christmas, Courtney!

It's not winter yet, but you would have thought that August 1 is the new December 25, with as many presents as I received yesterday.

In the morning, my mom took me to Sam's Club, Trader Joe's, and Walmart to stock up on groceries before the school year starts. That's a lot of presents. Delicious and practical presents, at that.

Later that afternoon, the mail truck drove up the driveway, which I knew meant that there was a package to deliver. My first instinct was that my electric toothbrush heads had come in and I would finally be relieved from my stupid travel toothbrush (I dream big). I was distracted by a phone call with my best friend, so I barely noticed the large box in mail woman's arms (well, that's definitely not my toothbrush heads, darnit). I cradled the phone between my ear and took the package from the mail lady, expecting one of my mom's feather-light deliveries. Instead, I buckled under the weight as I struggled to balance the mail, steady the box, open the door, and keep the phone tucked under my ear. I made it through the hallway and let the box drop dramatically onto the floor, absentmindedly sifting through the mail as I continued to chat with Jess. As if I ever get mail at this address anymore. If I do, it's usually a wedding invite, and I hadn't seen any Facebook engagement announcements recently.

Hey, wait a minute, I thought to myself. Did that box say...YES! It said MY name! That gigantic and heavy box is addressed to me!

And then, my friends, Christmas came early.

There, in that lovely brown box, was a huge pile of school supplies: crayons, colored pencils, index cards, paper, whiteboard cleaner (!!), highlighters, pencils, pens, construction paper, tissues...you name it, I've got it.




Thanks to my grandparents, who are faithful blog followers and my #1 fans, I remembered what it felt like to bask in the glory of new school supplies. I was like a little kid on Christmas morning, throwing aside the bubble wrap and plastic bags as I dug deeper and deeper into the never-ending box. I was momentarily disappointed that I was home alone and there was no one to present my new treasures to, but that didn't stop me from announcing each item out loud as I pulled it from the box.

Finally, my mom walked in the door and saw me sitting with the contents of the box fanning out around me, smiling like an idiot. She knew the box was coming, but I think she also knew how much more joy I would get out of a surprise (a concept, according to her, lost on both my dad and myself).

Memere and Grampy, this picture says it all:




And that's not all, folks.

Last night, I had dinner plans with my newly married friends Meg & Ryan, two more blessings from my RMC years. Meg was my roommate senior year (and part of the reason I began running--thanks?), and I've known Ryan since freshman year. I had the honor of being a bridesmaid in their wedding last month (hey, happy one month you two!), and absolutely love seeing them together. They kindly invited me over for my third meal in their new apartment, and I was eager to catch up with them since our last run, breakfast and pool date. (Third wheel? Me? Never.) Meg was hard at work in the kitchen when I arrived, sculpting burger patties and stirring homemade gravy after a full day in the office. I immediately started yapping away, as always, commenting on how delicious the meal smells and how great the apartment looks, yada yada yada, when she said the phrase that put the icing on the metaphorical cake of my day:

"Oh, don't forget to take that bag with you. I bought you school supplies!"

Two donations in one day? Man, I'm one lucky lady.

I already adore Meg and Ryan, for many reasons. Clearly the fact that they feed me is one. Other reasons include but are not limited to: our mutual love of One Tree Hill, how much they make me laugh (individually and as a pair), they never make me feel like a third wheel, and they are a big part of the reason that I have happy memories of Randolph-Macon. And now, they buy me school supplies? Dang, they are too good to me. I can't say it enough:



I of course could not resist laying out all the loot, and luckily my mother was there to capture my sheer, childlike joy again.

Phew, too much excitement for one day. I can hear my bed calling my name.

Thank you thank you thank you to my grandparents and my OTH buddies. You have no idea how loved you have made me feel, and how grateful I am for your support.

I think I'll go stare at my stuff one more time.

Charming Charleston

This time last week I was enjoying my last full day of a lovely long weekend trip to Charleston, SC with two of my friends from college, Baylee and Ashley.



The three of us were roommates second semester of junior year, after my four months abroad. Our lives at Randolph-Macon were woven together by our mutual disdain for the superficiality of RMC, our nerdiness (read: love of learning), and our shared faith. We were all involved with Young Life at some point, we all studied abroad in different European countries, and most recently, Baylee and I were bridesmaids in Ashley's wedding (an absolutely beautiful October wedding in Nashville, I might add). We have been talking about getting together since Ashley's big day, but distance and busy schedules have made it nearly impossible. Ashley was also a first year teacher this year, a high school history teacher outside of Nashville. Baylee just finished her first year of seminary at Wake Forest University in Winston-Salem, NC. Even though we're in the same state, Baylee and I are still over 3 hours apart. We did get to meet up a few times this year, once in Richmond and once in Greensboro, but last week was the first time all three of us have reunited in 9 months. And what a wonderful place to meet.

Originally we were planning a beach getaway, since Ashley has zero access to the ocean in landlocked state of Tennessee. But when I found out my credit card points could be traded in for 3 free nights at a Sheraton in Charleston, SC, and MapQuest proved it to be a manageable driving distance away (and still close to a beach), we changed our plans. None of us had been to the historic southern city, and I think it's safe to say we all left with a new love for Charleston.

If you've never been before, it's a definite must-see. There is so much historic charm preserved in the downtown area, with beautiful colonial-era colorful double-houses, a busy City Market, gorgeous water-front parks, and the famous King Street shopping district. Not to mention tons of delicious restaurants and old-fashioned Italian ice carts on practically every corner.


King Street



The Battery


"My" pink house along the river in the Battery.



Rainbow Row



Cobblestone streets that reminded me so much of my beloved Le Mans, France.



On campus of the College of Charleston--if they had graduate programs, I'd be there in a second.



Ashley the history lover basking in the glory of Civil War monuments (I think that's what they were for....)



Resting on the swings at Waterfront Park


We took a mule-drawn carriage tour, had margaritas at the Rooftop Bar (which was, in fact, on the rooftop), ate delicious food at restaurants suggested by friends, shopped up and down King Street and the City Market, roasted by the hotel pool, indulged in sweet treats at specialty bakeries (um, duh), invented new ways to play Banagrams, spent an afternoon at the beach, and explored the streets of a beautiful new city. Most importantly, we caught up on life and fell back into the rhythms of our days as roomies. That weekend reminded me of the beauty of two of my favorite things: traveling and friendship. There's nothing like uncovering the secret and not-so-secret treasures of an unfamiliar place, and it's even sweeter with good company.

We've decided to make this an annual trip. So, where should we go next year? Any other great cities that are must-sees?

Sunday Steals

Last week, I wrote a treatise about school supply shopping and asked (well, practically begged) you to help out your teacher friends by picking up a few dollars worth of school supplies on your next shopping trip. I also made an unfulfilled promise to let you know where the best deals were according to the weekly ad. A trip to Charleston with some girl friends and a lack of noteworthy deals made the post disappear from my memory. But have no fear, Miss H is here with a nudge in the right direction for those of you who are looking to help someone you know outfit his or her classroom this year. Below are a list of the best deals from this week's ads at four different stores.


Office Max

If you're anywhere near an Office Max, this is a good place to get some deals. It doesn't appear that they have a minimum purchase required to take advantage of their best deals, which gives them an extra star in my book. However, they do have limits on the number you can buy.



Your best bests here: the 1 cent rulers and crayons, plus the 10 cent packs of pencils. No minimum purchase (at least it doesn't say it)!


Staples

I usually avoid Staples at all costs. They are expensive and not really convenient. They do have some great deals as the school year approaches, though, and last year the Roanoke Rapids one even let us buy up to 25 of each "limited" item since we are teachers. Therefore, I find myself taking multiple trips in these last few weeks of summer to get the best deals each week. Their #1 downfall: their extreme deals require you to make a $5 minimum purchase before you can get the deal. So unless you're willing to spend a little extra than the $2 I previously proposed, steer clear of Staples this week.



Your best bets here: 8 pack of 1 cent pencils (Office Max is a better deal, but both stores have limits on quantity so I get as many as I can) and the 1 cent index cards. All require $5 minimum purchase. Don't know what to get for $5? Keep reading for wish lists.


Walmart

I can hear the groans already. I know, I know, a trip to Walmart can turn a nice leisurely afternoon errand into a multiple-hour extravaganza (and not the fun kind). But it's really all we have in Ro Rap and I've grown to be a somewhat dependent on their good deals. Unfortunately the most convenient/nicest one in Richmond is really not convenient at all, as the Short Pump traffic is enough to drive a woman to violent measures. However, because the best Staples is also in the same area, I will be sucking it up this afternoon and making the trip.



Your best bets here: 20 cent single subject notebooks (college ruled for middle school and up), all Crayola products for $1.97 (not pictured). They also sell 2 pocket folders for 10 or 15 cents regular priced (I prefer with prongs, not sure about other teachers). NO limits at Walmart--this is usually where I stock up!


Target

Ahhhhh Target. My all-time favorite. I make bi-weekly trips to the land of the bullseye (that's twice a week, not once every two weeks), and I have yet to see any jaw-dropping deals. I have a feeling next weekend, tax-free weekend in Virginia, will have some gems. But for now:



Your best bet here: The $1 pack of glue sticks is a good deal considering it's name brand and there are 6 to a pack.


As I said before, I don't intend for anyone to go out to any of these stores and spend double-digits. But, if you happen to be at Target or Walmart this week, consider throwing one of those deals into your basket. If you have a Staples or Office Max nearby and don't mind taking a side trip, I know your friends would appreciate any and all help.

Also, encourage your teacher friends to sign up for a Teacher Wish List, where they can post things that they need for the classroom for others to see. I've made my own here, and it might give you some more ideas of what teachers might see.

When you leave this page, I hope you don't leave thinking that I'm out of line asking for help for me and my friends. Instead, think of it as an investment in the future of our country :). After all, my kids and theirs could potentially be the next generation of leaders, and I can promise you that a classroom fully stocked with filler paper and pencils will also be a classroom where there is more time for discipline and character-building, and less time for trouble. And believe me, they can create their fair share of trouble! Thanks for all your help, and on behalf of my teacher friends we love and appreciate you!