Befuddled

I am confused. I am in the middle of a situation that I feel totally unprepared to handle. I have been hanging out with this great crew of people for a while. It's been lots of fun. We do super fun things together. The guys are all wonderful to hang out with and so are many of the girls. But there are a few in that crew who just DO NOT like me. For whatever reason... I have no idea. I'm fairly easy to get along with. I've just never been in this situation. And I dealt with it for the last few months by ignoring it. I thought that if they didn't like me, I was sure there was something we would have in common and it would only be a matter of time before we hit it off.

It never was that big of a deal. But it has come to the point that I feel like I need to do something about it... either address it directly or slink my way out of the group. I feel like these chicas would be stoked that I left. I just don't understand. What is it about me that is so terrible?

I Adamantly Refuse

I will NOT wear skinny jeans. Nor will I wear tights underneath a long sweater. Are we clear?

Eating Miso

"I really don't know what eating miso has to do with marrying a Japanese guy."

I love my friend, Mya. I miss her so much. But I have to say, I love her stories. She's gone to Japan to teach English. And her daily life is an adventure. Traveling to the grocery store, folding up her recyclables, getting asked out on dates. I love it. This experience has got to be growing her in so many areas. I am envious of it. Perhaps envious enough to leave this place and head off into a different place to throw myself into the current of living.

She has a date this week with a handsome Japanese man. I am so curious about this. I wonder where they will go and what their conversation will be like. The language barrier (should I really call it that?... maybe the language challenge) is so thrilling. I am in love with places in which multiple languages are heard. I'm not sure why it is so amazing to me. To sit in a conversation where patches and pieces of Japanese and English are being used is riveting! I feel even more excited about this same situation with Spanish and English. I love it.

I want to be there when Mya talks about life in the States or when she tries to explain American culture. She's so good at making things understandable. She is going to have a great time.

Third Grade Breakup

So here is how it goes. A conversation between me and my sweet student...

"My mom said I'm too young to have a boyfriend. So I have to dump him."

"Yeah. Third grade is pretty young for a serious relationship."

"Yeah. He rubs my back."

"That's bad news."

"I'm gonna dump him. COLE!!!!!! I GOTTA TELL YOU SOMETHING!!!!! It's over. We were never really together to begin with." And she runs away laughing. With her two friends.

He stands there stunned for a moment. Eyes getting a little cloudy. Chance of precipitation increasing. And I step in. "Hey, Cole. What's up? I heard you beat Ben in a race yesterday."

"... Yeah. I did."

"You ok? What'd she say?"

"Nothing."

In runs the chick crew again. "COLE! Aren't you going to chase us?" Pause. Big smiles. And he takes off running after her and her friends just slow enough to give them a head start.

Hmmm... so that's how it's done.

Somebody's Watching...

So, I have a student teacher.

And it makes me painfully aware of every good teaching practice that I used to do that I now slack on. I have all these structures and strategies that I used to practice. Things that used to keep me organized. Ideas I used to want to develop. And now everything is in a crumpled pile at the recesses of my mind. Why did I stop these things? Time? Because I am lazy?

One year, I sewed a huge six by four foot fabric pocket chart with eight rows of nine colors in each row. For my recorder unit. Sewed it. No pattern. Do I even sew? I cut each pocket. Hemmed it. Lined it up. And sewed it onto a big black sheet. Do you know how many pockets that is? Seventy-two. And as I proudly made the finishing touches on my big project... I absentmindedly burned through it with a hot iron. Good. Fantastic.

My plan book. I have a beautiful way to keep track of what my kiddos are learning in six-week chunks. And when I use it, I am on top of the world. I line up all the activities with standards, benchmarks, and expectations to ensure that my kids are getting it all. It sits on my desk. And sits. I look at it. And it sits.

All my transition songs. I have songs for getting into a circle. Songs for lining up. Songs for getting things out. Songs for putting things away. Songs for keeping hands still. Songs for zipping your lips. These are songs that good music teachers use to make classroom management simple. Do I use them? Nah. Do I even teach songs, I wonder? I hate teaching songs. "Here, copy after me." How many times must I do that? That's not the only way to teach songs, of course. But it certainly is the default. I hate the default.

I am a good teacher. I know it. I am a really, really good teacher. And I could certainly be a better teacher if I could get myself together. Here's why I am a good music teacher... I try to be intentional about not shutting kids down. I try to make sure that they are encouraged enough to keep trying music even though they aren't perfect at it. I don't want them to give up before they even have given themselves a chance. My kids can sightread. My kids are thoughtful musicians. And excellent singers. I give my kids a chance to do things that most music teachers are scared to even think about. And those are things that they will remember for the rest of their lives.

But I don't teach enough songs. I do a crappy job teaching instrument families. And music history. I haven't taken my kids on a field trip. Integrating literature and music... not enough. International folk songs. Hmm. I don't make the older kids use their journals as much as I should. I haven't used my cool grouping technique in months. They love it. I suck at Orff technique.

Thanks, student teacher. I have a lot of work ahead of me.

Hopping a Date

So, I am going on the obligation date. Yes, it will be terrible. But there is one thing that will make it totally worth it. Having my friends hop it. Hopping a date means that you magically and 'mysteriously' show up at a date that your friend is on. There are a few techniques you can use when hopping a date.

A) Sit at another table and order your friend drinks. Remain anonymous.
B) Bring a pawn. The pawn's job is to step in on the date in order to cause an awkward, yet interesting circumstance to arise. It's kind of like punking, in a way. Unscripted drama.
C) Friends arrive, and upon finding where you are sitting, act astonished that you are there and ask to join you.

There are various drawbacks and benefits to the different options. And sometimes, even you may be unaware that your date is being hopped by your own friends. But it always results in a wonderful evening as long as your friends' intentions are good. Now, if you have terrible friends, that's another blog altogether....

How To Fold Laundry

Take the laundry out of the dryer. Mmmmm.... feel that? I love warm laundry. Put it somewhere that there is no dog hair. Take a carton of ice cream from the freezer. Find a spoon. A bigger spoon. Good. Prepare your first bite, but do not eat it. Fold one item of laundry. Eat a spoonful of ice cream. Fold another item. Mind you, an item of laundry can be any one thing... a dishcloth. A pair of pants. Eat a bite of ice cream. Mmmm.... oh yes. Oh. Socks. That counts for two. Two delicious creamy scoops. If you accidentally fold too many items, go back and eat an extra bite. Make it two extra bites. You might have folded three items in a row. You lost track. Hmm.... sheets. Sheets are big. You could make at least four shirts from the fabric in a sheet. And those ridiculous fitted sheets... crumple it up. Eat four bites. There is only one penalty. Brain freeze. In event of brain freeze, do NOT add another scoop. Keep folding item by item until brain freeze culminates.