The Simple Life, really

In general, people seem to believe that economy might be stabilizing, or that the “recession” might at least be slowing in its downward progress.  But then came the news like a wet blanket: Americans are spending less on back-to-school shopping than they have in recent years.  Even more disturbing: most retailers use the BTS shopping trends to predict sales for the Christmas season.

While I’m no economist, I understand the basic idea that the economy tends to do better when money is changing hands, and that retail stores depend on these big buying seasons to stay open and to keep people employed.  But I still couldn’t find it in my soul to be too terribly despondent at the fact that American children might be going back to school for the first time in years wearing–gasp–last year’s blue jeans!  Or that maybe they’re having to use the same folders for their classes, even though Lisa Frank is sooo last year (okay, maybe more than that.  I’m flashing back to my own school-supply-buying days).

As for Christmas…from what I understand this holiday is like with kids, maybe scaling back there is okay, as well.  I imagine little munchkins already lost in a sea of wrapping paper and plastic toys, picking up a box to play with only to be told, “Put that down, you have more presents to open!”  It’s a lot of credit card debt in exchange for a few hours of sensory overload.  I’ve always admired the families that find ways to keep holidays simple and meaningful, keeping the flurry of gift-giving in balance with other seasonal traditions and rituals.

In the interest of full disclosure, I’ll admit that I’m in the final pages of a book called Affluenza, which is a tongue-in-cheek critique of materialistic, American consumer culture.  It’s full of depressing statistics on the decline of family and leisure time, ubiquitous advertising, increasing working hours and decreasing interaction with nature and community.  So I’m in the mood to notice and be irritated by the indication that “dollars spent” is any sort of indicator of the health of our society.  It’s a shame that, if this is true, the stability of our economy is dependent on our friends and neighbors spending lots of cash on stuff they don’t really need.

National implications aside, we’ve both gone back to school today, trying to encourage our new budget-friendly mindset that a frugal life is more fun anyway.  We’re halfway through our first month with the new budget, which I’m going to evaluate in a separate post.  So I’m mix-and-matching my old wardrobe (honestly, very easy since I only have about three things that fit…and later when I’m a normal size, all of my clothes will feel new again anyway), packing a lunch before I leave in the morning, and throwing together something for dinner from ingredients that I have in the pantry.  We hope it will be simply wonderful.

 

The greatest plans of mice and men…

The latest (and hopefully last) development in my work schedule is that I’ll be teaching two classes of fourth grade writing/grammar in the mornings.  This has been the class I’ve struggled with the most for the past years, partly because of curriculum issues and partly because writing is stinking hard to teach.  But just this past year we hit on some curriculum that I really liked, so I’m happy for another year to get this subject to awesomeness.  (Reading and history, my other two major class subjects I’ve developed over the past four years, are in great shape, and I feel totally comfortable handing them off to my replacement.)

Thanks to my impeccable timing, Turniphead’s due date is two days before the first day of school.  I am expecting him or her to come late, so I have some hopes (however unrealistic) of making an appearance at work for the first day of school at least, but I’m planning so that my long-term sub can teach my classes for the first six weeks.  (I figure any days I happen to be there at first will just be bonus, and I’ll still be thankful for detailed plans.)

So my project for this summer has been to develop week-by-week plans for the first twelve weeks of school (that’s 6 for the sub, and 6 for me to ease my transition back after maternity leave is up).  It’s been so fun, and I have to say…I have never thought this carefully about my lesson plans before!  I’ve been having fun planning out lessons and creating all of the worksheets and resources that will be necessary to implement them.  My ultimate project is to have each week’s materials in a separate folder, all ready for the copy machine.

Maybe that mental image does not make your heart go pitter-pat, but those of you who are teachers, or who are OCD, might be able to understand.  It’s fun to plan for school when I actually have the energy and mental space to really think about how to do it well!  It’s also nice to imagine that because of my careful planning, my sub will be able to get everything covered, my students will hit the ground running, and that Future Lindsey might actually be productive too, despite returning to work in a fog of sleeplessness and emotional exhaustion.

 

Like Mother, Like Turnip

Turniphead is kicking and squirming almost 24-7 now, causing my stomach to contort in alien-ish ways.  Since Stephen and I both strongly resemble our parents in look and in habits, I’m assuming that TH will be a chip off the old block as well, so I can guess with some confidence what these daily punches and jabs communicate.  TH, full of an inflated self-image like his mother, is imagining that while the whole “nine month” gestational period might be fine and necessary for the average developing fetus, six months has been more than enough time for him to learn his lessons.

“Enough of this place!” he thinks with a claustrophobic elbow to my bladder.  “I’ll finish developing my lungs on the other side.  Right now, this environment is stifling.  I was meant to be a newborn, and only then can I be satisfied.  I’ll actually get to feed myself (sort of) rather than passively taking in nutrients through my belly button.  I’ll be able to breathe real air, scream as loud as I want to, and devote my energies to real challenges like escaping from my swaddling blanket and gaining control of my neck muscles.  Life in the womb is for the birds!  I can’t take this for three more months!”  And then he’ll punctuate that thought with an especially aggressive, resentful kick to try to knock the bowl of ice cream off of my stomach (lashing out in frustration–he’s also learned this from me).

I feel the pain of TH’s agitation quite literally, and I wish that he had the ears and the cognitive ability to heed my words of wisdom.  I have wished away the days and months leading up to a big event or transition, only to look back wistfully once that time was past.  I spent the last year of college working like crazy with 18-hour semesters, wanting to graduate early and get on with my career.  I did not expect that a few short months later, during my first miserable year of teaching, I would drive through campus on my way to pick up comfort food from Jin’s Chinese Restaurant, crying my eyes out in envy of those lucky young undergraduates in the pedestrian crosswalks.

As I’m counting down the final days of my fifth year of teaching, my last year as queen of the fourth grade, I’m finding myself falling into the old habit of wishing away the remaining days.  Like TH, I’m protesting irritably at the tasks and deadlines pressing in on me, and losing patience with the daily annoyances of feeling like everyone and everything is too close for comfort. In the midst of report cards, final grades, summer-crazed children, and debriefing meetings, I find myself daydreaming of reading a book and floating in the pool, and I do a little mental math to see how many hours are left.

But then I have to remember that it really won’t be long until summer is here, and as much as I’m going to enjoy the books and swimming, that will mean that my season as a full-time teacher is over.  Those little squirrels who test my patience every day have endeared themselves to me, and in eight and a half more days, they won’t be mine any more.  And I’ll be very sad to see them go.

TH thinks life will be easier after August 17, but I know that when the time actually comes he will not be so eager to leave his little cocoon.  In fact, I’m predicting he’ll stay put for weeks after that date, until we finally force him out (resistance to change, even while complaining about current circumstances–I have to take credit for that, too).  He’ll come into the world screaming in protest, and he’ll keep protesting for weeks after that, despite my best efforts to console him that life as a newborn is not all that bad.

Eventually, he’ll settle in and get the hang of this different kind of life, and he’ll stop pining away for the good old days in the womb.  Probably, it won’t be long until he’s fantasizing about life as a toddler and growing impatient with his puny legs and insufficient sense of balance.

In the meantime, I’m going to keep telling him to ease up on the complaining and to enjoy the ride.  And I’ll see if I can convince myself to do the same.

 

Obviously, it’s time for summer.

Our administrators believe strongly in letter-writing as punishment for minor discipline infractions (as in, ones that are big enough for an office visit, but not big enough for a hard-core punishment), because it forces the students to apologize for their behavior and also to describe clearly what they did wrong in the first place.  Sometimes the letter is addressed to an offended party, and other times it is an informative letter to the child’s parents.  So I saw TWO letters today–one to me and one to a parent.  I have to say, with both of these letters, it was hard to keep a straight face.

A conscientious parent actually forced her own child to write the first one, in response to an incident at our annual History Faire, which was last Friday.  Background: this event is one of the biggest of the year.  In preparation, every child from 2-6 grade does a research project on some assigned topic, and then in class we put together 3-5 minute presentations about what they’ve learned.  We deck out the whole school (my room turned into Paris this year, and the students represented different people and events related to the French Revolution) and the students and families come for two hours on a Friday night for the students to present their projects.  We make it like a museum, and the kids are the exhibits, standing in classrooms in full costume, ready to give their presentation to anyone who approaches them.

It’s my favorite night of the year, and one that most students take very seriously…all except one of mine this year.  This “Eye-Witness to the Meeting of the Estates-General” sneaked an anachronistic Coke Zero into our room and nipped from it between presentations.  Hence, this letter–

“Dear Mrs. Watson [and other guests who witnessed and reported these incidents],

I am sorry for burping during my History Faire speeches.  Please accept my apologies for disrespecting you and this event.   Sincerely, Speed Racer“

Today was incident number two– a brawl between my boys after lunch.  (I wasn’t the teacher on duty, so I’m unclear whether this fight was friendly or frustrated)  The weapon of choice?  Plastic laminated cards that the students wear on lanyards around their necks to help them keep track of how many milk credits they have left for the month.  So the letters read-

“Dear Mom and Dad,

Today I had to go to the office for hitting A, B, and C with my milk card and lunch box.  I am sorry for fighting.  I am also sorry because I did not answer my teacher when she asked me what happened.  I recognize that my behavior was inappropriate.  Sincerely, X”

So justice was served, and I think we were able to get through both of these incidents (and so many more!) without the kids seeing us laugh as they turned away in shame.

*Note- Due to a couple of incidents of legitimate fighting and bullying, we’re all under a zero-tolerance policy for fighting of all kinds, both play and real.  That’s why the boys were sent straight to the office for the milk card incident.  But, YES, I’m  happy to be in a school where public burping and fighting with lanyards are offenses to be treated with such gravity.  Having worked in a school where students were more often in trouble for actual crimes, I know how good I have it!

 

Oops.

I spent extra time debating my outfit in front of the mirror before going to work yesterday.  It was a pre-pregnancy outfit, and the shirt was stretched tight around my waist.  Was it accentuating the bump in a way that was cute?  Or, was the whole look kind of slutty-pregnant, which worked fine for Rachel Green in Friends but would be less appropriate for a fourth grade teacher at a classical school?

Finally it got to be 7:00, and I was out of time to put together an alternative outfit.  I figured I’d just go for it, reasoning that I could always hide out in my room more than usual if I decided to hate the outfit by the time I got to school.  No worries, I would just lay low.

So I got to school and was immediately reminded by a flier on my desk that this was  not a good day for laying low after all– it was picture day.  So now my belly bump outfit is front and center on the picture that will be blown up to a large size and framed in the school entry hallway.  Just for icing on the cake, the skirt I chose to wear yesterday is the exact one that I wore in last year’s school picture!  How embarrassing!  Hopefully some little squirt in the front row is giving bunny ears to his neighbor, and everyone can focus on that instead.

 

U.S. Government According to Fourth Graders

I always do a brief study of the Constitution following our unit on the Revolutionary War.  This unit always makes me feel very patriotic, and it makes me proud to hear my students reciting the Bill of Rights and rattling off facts about the structure and purpose of government that would put the average voter to shame.

I gave the Constitution test on Friday, and all of the students did a great job.  But a few little spelling and handwriting mistakes led to some funny moments, which I thought I’d share…

From the Bill of Rights:

-The First Amendment give us the freedom of potion.  (petition)
-The Second Amendment gives us the right to bare arms.
-The Sixth Amendment give us the right to a seedy and public trial.  (my favorite misspelling!)
-The Seventh Amendment gives us the right to a trail by jury.

Government Structure and Principles:

-The United States government was founded on the principle of chicks and balances.
-The men and women appointed by the President to work for him in the executive branch are known as the President’s Cabin.

Purposes of government, according to the Preamble:

Provide for the common fence (across Mexican border, perhaps?)
Provide for the common wealth (another stimulus check, anyone?)
Promote General Welfare (don’t know who this is, but I’m sure he’ll appreciate it)

I love my little patriots!

 

Common Sense

More tales from my little bean-driven empire…

To make sure that all of my students, including the super responsible and self-controlled, have to suffer the injustice of my reckless taxation, I have instituted what I call “Random Taxes.” These vary from day to day, and might be for having a birthday in an odd month, bringing a hoodie to school, or having black shoelaces.

Today I decided to try an example from the real world, and I charged a “prosperity tax” of two beans (unheard of in Bean-land!) to everyone who had ten or more beans. All of my little hoarders howled in protest, and one savvy student piped up, “Aren’t you just punishing us for following all of the rules and having lots of beans?”

I shrugged, enjoying my power, and explained, “Yes, but you have lots of beans, so that means you can pay me more.”

Student (eyeing my cookie-jar federal reserve): “But look at how many beans you have! I have twelve beans, and you have hundreds!”

Me: “Yes, but I need your beans so that I can make lots of bean soup. That way I can eat it and not be hungry, and I will still have the energy to do the hard work of being your teacher.”

Student: “Fine. But now I don’t care that much about following the rules if you’re just going to take my beans anyway.”

He ponied up the two beans, of course (I haven’t taught them yet about civil disobedience), but I think that a young conservative has just been born.

 

Frozen Falcon Wednesday

The day began when I woke up to freezing cold air on my face.  But the rest of me was snug underneath piles of heavy covers, as warm as could be!  Did I have to wake up in the dark, icy cold?  NO!  The roads were dangerous and school was canceled for the day.  Hooray!

So I’ve got some bonus time at home today, which is a perfect opportunity to work in my two new rooms, desperately in need of beautifying, and to catch up on my annual school-play-writing project, which has been hanging over my head especially menacingly this year.

And, since the sun is already out and the ice is melting, later this afternoon I can go to Lowe’s and buy blinds for the room, and I can go stock up on groceries at HEB.  Perfect timing!

 

Beans, Beans, the Magical Fruit…

Well, the spring semester is upon us, which means I am starting my very sweet American Revolution history unit.  In addition to the intangible reward of building great citizens who know tons of details about their founding fathers, founding documents, and federal government, this unit provides me with Spring Sanity in the form of my bean challenge.

For those of you who do not take advantage of the hyperlink, the short version is that I hand out beans like currency and then tax the crud out of my students for all sorts of annoying behaviors.  I give the beans value by occasionally letting the students exchange beans for an equivalent number of Skittles or M&Ms.  I have a great time pretending to be the arbitrary and tyrannical King George, the kids have fun trying to hoard their beans, and we all get a great lesson in colonial politics.  What amazes me every time is how much the kids will go along with it.

So far, this year seems to be another success.  We’re only two days into the Great Bean Behavior Reform, but just the mention of beans is enough to straighten up the whole bunch.  So far my Intolerable Acts include:

• Mess Tax
• Sitting incorrectly in Chair Tax
• “I already answered that question” Tax
• Inappropriate Line Behavior tax
• Tardy Tax
• Off-topic Comment Tax
• Shoelaces Untied Tax

And so I’ll keep adding taxes for another couple of months, until the system becomes so complicated it collapses under its own weight.  This combination of historical reinforcement and behavior management is Yankee Doodle Dandy.

 

Women are from Mars, Copy Machines are from Venus

I’ve read extensively in the self-help/relationships genre, and the bottom line seems to be that women and men have a hard time understanding each other. Particularly, women don’t understand why men think it’s so hard to be in a relationship with them. Women tend to be pretty fluent in relationships with men and also with other women; it’s hard to imagine what it is like to be in a relationship where the other party is a complete mystery. So, women, I have a great exercise for you to sympathize better with your man- invest yourself in a relationship with a piece of office equipment.

At my place of work, it is our copy machine. See if these little exchanges don’t sound familiar:

Scenario A: Paper Jam

I think: All I want is thirteen double-sided copies of this worksheet. Why do you have to make everything so complicated? Can’t you just make my copies for once? I don’t know what those pictures on the screen mean; So I guess I am going to have to open every single one of your doors and find this #%$!! jammed paper myself. Now this simple interaction that could have been done in five minutes is going to take my whole lunch break.

Copier thinks: If you would only take a minute to understand my inner workings, you would know exactly where the paper went and why it became jammed. I am even giving you a diagram to help you find it! How can I make this any easier on you? By the way, slamming my doors and yelling is not getting you to the root of the problem any faster. And if you knew how much this “simple task” actually involves, maybe you’d be a little more patient.

Scenario B: Replace Toner

I think: Are you freaking kidding me? I JUST replaced your toner–there is no way you could possibly need more already. How often do I even copy here…once or twice a day? Do I need to come up with a toner allowance for you so you don’t blow it all on one set of memos? I don’t even know what toner is, so how can it possibly be that important?

Copier thinks: That just shows how much you know, you big jerk! You have no idea how hard I work all day while you are off in your classroom. You are not the only one that needs me; if it’s not one teacher, it’s another, and everyone thinks that their needs are the most important! By the time you come to me with your demands at the end of the day, I’m already exhausted. ALL DAY, I give, and give, and give. And all I ever ask for in return is a little toner!!

Scenario C: The indecipherable message

I think: Holy, moley, what does that even mean? I have NEVER seen that before on your touch screen. I get the paper jam; I get that you need toner, but how can I even start to figure out how to fix this problem when I don’t know what you’re talking about? And by the way, I happen to need three transparencies and fifty packets, hole punched and stapled. Do you have any kind of a time frame for how long this meltdown is going to last?

Copier thinks: Maybe I don’t even understand what I need right now! This is the time when a little love and understanding goes a long way–and that does not mean telling me about the transparencies and packets that you need! Do you notice that the only time you ever come in here is when you need something from me? Maybe this little message is the only way I can get you to stop and pay attention to me. All I want is a little quality time!

And, hopefully, Scenario D:  The Reconciliation

Me:  Thank you for making my packets.  They’re exactly what I needed.

Copier:  You are welcome.  It really is no trouble; I’m sorry that I lost my temper and jammed those papers on purpose.

Me:  No, no, it was  my fault.  I don’t tell you enough how much I appreciate all of you hard work.  I know that for every transparency paper that melts in your heating element, you have made 100 more without any trouble, and with no thanks.  I’ll try to remember to be a little more appreciative.

Copier:  Me, too.  You really are working so hard.   And without you, my life would have no purpose.  What would I do if I wasn’t making copies for you?

<Teacher and copier continue affirming their mutual need for and admiration of the other.  Violin music swells in the background as teacher and copier move forward in cooperation and respect.>