Twister

If you are a frequenter of my mother's blog, or if you live in the state of Oklahoma, you will know that when I say "Twister" I am not referring to America's favorite stocking-footed party game. This past week (I don't remember exactly what day since I have mentally blocked the whole incident) we had a series of storms blow through northwest Oklahoma city and the surrounding area (aka, the center of my universe). As a teacher I have to say that you have not lived until you have herded 21 nervous children into the boys bathroom to join the other two classes that are already in there and instruct them to kneel on the floor as close together as possible and assume the time-tested "duck and cover" position. They must be totally silent despite the uncomfortable smell, the suspision that the mystery liquid that just dampened your hand is actually pee, and the kid next to you whose shirt is not quite long enough to cover their exposed butt crack. And heaven forbid anyone makes any sort of accidental noise (like when your teacher, who has graciously stationed herself in front of the urinal that still had some pee in it so her students would be spared the horror, moves away from the urinal to join the other teachers across the room and upon moving the urinal flushes itself). We managed to keep very good order and I eventually ended up reading Shel Silverstein poems aloud to entertain. After all was said and done we were in the offensive "storm shelter" for approximately 30 minutes. We returned to our classroom and were told to go ahead and dismiss about 5 minutes early. I was ok with this, thinking my adventure was over and I could go home.

I was mistaken.

This was only the beginning.

As school let out we loaded the buses and began dismissing the "car riders" to their parents as they arrived. Then, as soon as we had loaded the buses (including the middle schoolers who walk over from the middle school next door to get on the bus) the tornado sirens began to go off. Crap! I look down the hall and see masses of wet students from 1st to 8th grade heading for the bathrooms and the teacher's lounge. Double crap. So I spent the following 30 minutes trying to keep the 4th and 5th grade boys from eating anything they found in the teacher's lounge and trying to get them quiet as our poor principal continues to call names over the walkie-talkie as parents arrive. She finally allowed all of us to find our way to the cafeteria (as it started to hail) and continued to call names for the next hour and a half. My favorite part was when she (still talking about my principal) stood up on a table and did the hokie pokie, since there were no parents arriving at the time. Go aunty! Anyhow... at about five o'clock they re-loaded the buses and I made the dash home. Throughout the previous 2 hours we had been hit by storm after storm with a few tornadoes in various places (like Chucky Cheese), but nothing that came too close to us. I had also been well-informed about the condition of my loved ones since some bright person invented twitter so we could be updated of every movement. I think I received at least 30 text messages during the whole ordeal. I concluded my day with a very detailed phone call to my beloved blog-buddy in Phoenix. She informed me that the most exciting thing that ever happened to her at school was a rainy day schedule due to excessive heat. Bah!
Ang

Another day, another donut-hole... ooo... donuts

My class... my wonderful, angelic, delightful class... have decided to push Mrs. DeLong to see at what point she snaps. She probably doesn't mean be silent when she said no one can talk. I bet if I confer with my neighbor I can get some good ideas for my essay even though she said we weren't supposed to. I doubt she meant single file when she said "get in a straight, quiet line". I bet we can get Mrs. DeLong to begin referring to herself in third person. They really are wonderful children, caring, responsive, but there are times when I say I want them to work quietly and I don't mean converse with your neighbor, get the answer from someone else, stroll around the room, hop around on your classmate's crutches, get your third drink in one hour, take a restroom break, go to the office for chapstick, doodle, or stare off into space. Call me crazy. So this afternoon I sought council from my more-veteran teammate and we discussed all the terrible things we could do to make them regret their very existence. I am currently throwing aroung the idea of resorting to endless worksheets until they decide to focus. Some part of me feels like I need to be more creative and positive and use rewards instead of punishment, but the other part of me just wants to be able to teach without expending all my energy on keeping them on task. Sigh. Oh well.

My night improved when my wonderful husband did the dishes so I would have room to make dinner (which I enjoyed so much that I followed dinner with cookies, of which I only ate 1 thank you very much). Then after our yummy cornbread pot pie he did those dishes, followed by the laundry. Am I the envy of women everywhere or what? Anyhow, I also worked out, which I really don't recommend if you enjoy non-sore muscles and full range of motion. I dread what my legs and abs will feel like tomorrow and I thank my lucky stars that I don't still live on the fifth floor of my college dorm. Good stuff.

Well, my bed calls so I must sign off...

Ang

A for effort??....

Soo....I tried to be blog savvy and change the heading since it is officially February. And all I could figure out was this lame picture only half the right size with the boring font. Ang...my blogging guru...fix it so we still look cool? :)

ps. School is fabulous. Friends are fabulous. Life is fabulous. The End.

-Kare