Wednesday, January 26, 2011
Also...
Is there an award I can give out for best mom? Or most thoughtfully-timed card ever? Perfection! Especially given my unhealthy obsession with greeting cards.
Center of Gravity
Major shift today. Last night, I got a phone call and two e-mails about an impromptu staff meeting before school this morning. Let me remind you that our school day begins with the bright-eyed children walking through our doors at 7 am, which puts the meeting around 6:45. Entirely too early to be discussing any kind of information, much less any kind of pertinent information.
And pertinent information it was. We found out that our principal is being moved to an extremely low-performing elementary school in Charlotte as a strategic staffing initiative. Extremely low as in the bottom 5%. Of the state. Her last day is February 11th, giving us two weeks to let that bomb of information settle and for her to clean out her stuff and prepare to transform a new school.
I don't really know what to think here. I've known for awhile that I haven't planned on coming back next year, something that I finally told my principal about a few weeks ago. Now she's leaving, and suddenly the whole school is uncertain. With her here, as tough as she could about certain things (like turning in lesson plans and posting lesson objectives on the board and staying top of relatively minute details like bulletin boards), we all knew what we were getting. We knew what to expect. Now we don't even know who our new principal will be, much less what he or she will be like. There's nothing to do now but wait.
She announced the news on the morning announcements and I talked to my kids about it during morning meeting, explaining that sometimes people are needed in other places, especially when there are other kids just like them whose schools aren't as good as ours. They decided that no, it wasn't fair that the other schools weren't like ours and that yes, it was a good thing that our principal was stepping up and helping out. Case closed.
But then, at lunch, Jha'Nya asked me agin why the principal has to go. I explained again that she was needed at another school to help the teachers there be better teachers for their students.
"Why don't the teachers just fix what they're doing wrong? Then everyone can just stay where they are and be happy."
I wish the achievement gap were that easy to solve.
And pertinent information it was. We found out that our principal is being moved to an extremely low-performing elementary school in Charlotte as a strategic staffing initiative. Extremely low as in the bottom 5%. Of the state. Her last day is February 11th, giving us two weeks to let that bomb of information settle and for her to clean out her stuff and prepare to transform a new school.
I don't really know what to think here. I've known for awhile that I haven't planned on coming back next year, something that I finally told my principal about a few weeks ago. Now she's leaving, and suddenly the whole school is uncertain. With her here, as tough as she could about certain things (like turning in lesson plans and posting lesson objectives on the board and staying top of relatively minute details like bulletin boards), we all knew what we were getting. We knew what to expect. Now we don't even know who our new principal will be, much less what he or she will be like. There's nothing to do now but wait.
She announced the news on the morning announcements and I talked to my kids about it during morning meeting, explaining that sometimes people are needed in other places, especially when there are other kids just like them whose schools aren't as good as ours. They decided that no, it wasn't fair that the other schools weren't like ours and that yes, it was a good thing that our principal was stepping up and helping out. Case closed.
But then, at lunch, Jha'Nya asked me agin why the principal has to go. I explained again that she was needed at another school to help the teachers there be better teachers for their students.
"Why don't the teachers just fix what they're doing wrong? Then everyone can just stay where they are and be happy."
I wish the achievement gap were that easy to solve.
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
Light...Sort Of
When talking to Jack last week, I compared this last half of the year to the part of a run where I've just turned around, realized I've run way too far given my general fitness level, and have to face the fact that I have to do a return trip that seems far too long. Whether I walk or run, it's still a LONG way. Today, on my way home, it also reminded me of riding on the subway past the place I'm actually trying to go. Watching it go by in the window. Dreading the walk back in the direction I came, even if it's really not that far.
All of this is very melodramatic, something I'm realizing more and more as I actually put these sentiments into words. I guess it's incited by my first law school acceptance letter and a friendly phone call about "my qualifications and future career options" from one of my job applications. It's light at the end of the tunnel, the first hint that, no, I will not be teaching next year. Kind of surreal.
In spite of knowing this, I still have to come in every day and look right at my students who have no idea about it all. A mother of one of my kids from last year stopped by my room and asked if I would be teaching first grade again next year, because if I was, she wanted her youngest daughter in my class. I just nodded. Her son was one of my favorites, the kind of kid who doesn't realize he had arms until I pointed out to him that he does and that he's swinging them around his body in rapid circles. The kind of kid who no matter how many times I'd say "Do not touch the snow!" on the way to the bus lot, even if I glared at him and said his name in that precautionary tone ("Jacob!!!")... he'd still touch the snow. He brought me a napkin and put it on my lunchbox every single day, even the days when he had silent lunch and lost his recess because of his behavior. That's the worst part. Thinking about the people I'm leaving behind, no matter how much I just want to move forward.
All of this is very melodramatic, something I'm realizing more and more as I actually put these sentiments into words. I guess it's incited by my first law school acceptance letter and a friendly phone call about "my qualifications and future career options" from one of my job applications. It's light at the end of the tunnel, the first hint that, no, I will not be teaching next year. Kind of surreal.
In spite of knowing this, I still have to come in every day and look right at my students who have no idea about it all. A mother of one of my kids from last year stopped by my room and asked if I would be teaching first grade again next year, because if I was, she wanted her youngest daughter in my class. I just nodded. Her son was one of my favorites, the kind of kid who doesn't realize he had arms until I pointed out to him that he does and that he's swinging them around his body in rapid circles. The kind of kid who no matter how many times I'd say "Do not touch the snow!" on the way to the bus lot, even if I glared at him and said his name in that precautionary tone ("Jacob!!!")... he'd still touch the snow. He brought me a napkin and put it on my lunchbox every single day, even the days when he had silent lunch and lost his recess because of his behavior. That's the worst part. Thinking about the people I'm leaving behind, no matter how much I just want to move forward.
Monday, January 17, 2011
In Case You Didn't Notice...
I just recently found out that the two spaces after a period rule is antiquated. And frowned upon. How will I ever change?! Eek. I just started in that last post, and it took every ounce of my energy to not tap the space bar twice.
...and no one really cares. At least I've shared my struggle with the world.
...and no one really cares. At least I've shared my struggle with the world.
ADHD Indicators
Let me preface this post by asserting I am in full support of parental decisions to medicate or not medicate children with ADHD. I've lived it. Two siblings with ADD, and I've seen my brother and sister on drugs like Adderall and Strattera and the way that it changes their personalities. I get it. But it's pretty easy to tell when people who are on medication stop taking it. Particularly when they are six years old. Want to know what it sounds like?
"...and that's how we complete the math workshop activity Number Flags. Are there any questions?"
After army crawling through the tunnel made by my long table and pushed in chairs, the student in question slithers face first onto the floor, hops up, and sprints over to me panting heavily. He's over there not because I can't control him (so I tell myself) but because he needs to be able to move around or he'll explode.
"CAN YOU CALL IMMANUEL'S MOM AND ASK HER IF HE CAN STAY THE NIGHT AT MY HOUSE?"
"I meant questions about the math game, but no. I will not call her."
Then, like a flash, he's gone. Back to searching for lost pieces of tape under my art cart. Eventually he had to leave the room when he started closing his eyes and karate kicking at random, which is also when we found out that he wasn't taking his medicine anymore from his mom. In a lot of ways I don't blame her. But it doesn't stop it from being incredibly frustrating, even though I know it's not his fault and he can't help it. He wants to be good- he really does. See note below, given to me on one of his very rare sit-down-and-work days. I'll be clutching that note until the end of the year, reminiscing about the one time that he did not sprint laps around the classroom. Ah, the joy of teaching.
"...and that's how we complete the math workshop activity Number Flags. Are there any questions?"
After army crawling through the tunnel made by my long table and pushed in chairs, the student in question slithers face first onto the floor, hops up, and sprints over to me panting heavily. He's over there not because I can't control him (so I tell myself) but because he needs to be able to move around or he'll explode.
"CAN YOU CALL IMMANUEL'S MOM AND ASK HER IF HE CAN STAY THE NIGHT AT MY HOUSE?"
"I meant questions about the math game, but no. I will not call her."
Then, like a flash, he's gone. Back to searching for lost pieces of tape under my art cart. Eventually he had to leave the room when he started closing his eyes and karate kicking at random, which is also when we found out that he wasn't taking his medicine anymore from his mom. In a lot of ways I don't blame her. But it doesn't stop it from being incredibly frustrating, even though I know it's not his fault and he can't help it. He wants to be good- he really does. See note below, given to me on one of his very rare sit-down-and-work days. I'll be clutching that note until the end of the year, reminiscing about the one time that he did not sprint laps around the classroom. Ah, the joy of teaching.
 |
| Written EXACTLY how he talks |
Sunday, January 16, 2011
Knock, Knock
It's me, Sara. Given that it's one o'clock and I've just woken up, you're probably assuming I went out last night and you would be right. However, I did not sleep in because of my late arrival home. I slept in because after getting home and eating a few sugar-free Snack Packs, I had no choice but to finish reading the last book in the Steig Larsson series, The Girl Who Kicked the Hornet's Nest. For two hours. I say I had no choice because all I could think about while I was out was how it was going to end. So when songs I didn't know came on (and for some reason, there seemed to be a lot), I speculated about the plot. Nerd? Yes.
Which actually is not why I wanted to write this blog. Waking up in the afternoon is pretty out of character for me. I don't really sleep in anymore, and I DEFINITELY don't nap anymore. And not that I'm some kind of pop music junkie, but there usually aren't too many occasions when I've never heard a song before in a bar and everyone else has.
Of course, I'm not saying that I've just transformed into a nerd now. I've always been a nerd. But in the wake of all these cover pages and personal statements, I actually have to think about how I present myself. Which means I have to figure out at least a general idea of what kind of person I've turned into since 24 six- and seven-year-olds became the center of my world. With an upcoming phone conversation with a prospective employer, I'm sure they're going to ask me to tell them about myself. I used to be able to do that. Now... well, let's just say that telling people that you schedule out your week in meals every Sunday is not exactly the most interesting life detail.
Even beyond that purpose- how do I go about figuring what I want to do with my life now? A year and a half ago, when I graduated, I had a much better grip on the kind of person I was and I still had no idea. People ask me why I'm applying to certain jobs and not others, and all I can tell them is- "Well, I don't really know." Someone who sat next to me on the plane on my way home for Christmas break told me to have faith that the steps I take in my twenties will eventually lead me down the right path. He didn't sound quite that spiritual, but he seemed to have a good point. If you want something, even if it's quite vague, you naturally position yourself in a place to achieve that goal. It's what happened to him. Granted, he had an MBA from Harvard, so I'm pretty sure he could've done quite a lot of jobs he didn't want as well.
Now that my book is finished, I guess I have some time to try to figure out where it is that I'm going, which will not be an easy task given that this blog post doesn't even have any direction. I'm just thinking out loud. Wish me luck.
Which actually is not why I wanted to write this blog. Waking up in the afternoon is pretty out of character for me. I don't really sleep in anymore, and I DEFINITELY don't nap anymore. And not that I'm some kind of pop music junkie, but there usually aren't too many occasions when I've never heard a song before in a bar and everyone else has.
Of course, I'm not saying that I've just transformed into a nerd now. I've always been a nerd. But in the wake of all these cover pages and personal statements, I actually have to think about how I present myself. Which means I have to figure out at least a general idea of what kind of person I've turned into since 24 six- and seven-year-olds became the center of my world. With an upcoming phone conversation with a prospective employer, I'm sure they're going to ask me to tell them about myself. I used to be able to do that. Now... well, let's just say that telling people that you schedule out your week in meals every Sunday is not exactly the most interesting life detail.
Even beyond that purpose- how do I go about figuring what I want to do with my life now? A year and a half ago, when I graduated, I had a much better grip on the kind of person I was and I still had no idea. People ask me why I'm applying to certain jobs and not others, and all I can tell them is- "Well, I don't really know." Someone who sat next to me on the plane on my way home for Christmas break told me to have faith that the steps I take in my twenties will eventually lead me down the right path. He didn't sound quite that spiritual, but he seemed to have a good point. If you want something, even if it's quite vague, you naturally position yourself in a place to achieve that goal. It's what happened to him. Granted, he had an MBA from Harvard, so I'm pretty sure he could've done quite a lot of jobs he didn't want as well.
Now that my book is finished, I guess I have some time to try to figure out where it is that I'm going, which will not be an easy task given that this blog post doesn't even have any direction. I'm just thinking out loud. Wish me luck.
Tuesday, January 11, 2011
Is This What Cabin Fever is Like?
We're on snow day number three, and I'm pretty sure cabin fever is setting in. Think the same may be happening to you? Use this checklist to decide.
So it's official. Cabin fever.
We all handle it in different ways. Cabin fever makes me want to purse my lips in a tight line, retreat to my room, and wallow in my own wandering thoughts. In contrast, it makes Erin want to rub her face on people's shoulders and arms and possibly thighs (depending on where you're sitting) despite said person's wishes to wallow in his or her own wandering thoughts. Mainly it's because of her need for physical touch and her uncontrollable optimism in the face of not having to go to work. She does the same to our cat, who may like snuggling even less than I do. At least I don't bite your toes when you try to do it to me.
Kristen doesn't get cabin fever because she's trying to plan her wedding. My mom also doesn't get cabin fever because she is now retired and has thus been sentenced to cabin fever for the rest of her days.
Anyway, like I said- cabin fever. It might have something to do with the idea of losing ALL of our days off in February (boo!), or the fact that there's only so much you can do with two days off. Whatever it is, tomorrow will be the last day of it, so I might as well enjoy it. Then it's back to work, back to student achievement, and back to 5:00 am wake-ups. And when I put it that way... I take back all the bad things I said about cabin fever.
- Your voice volume has escalated above what is normal.
- You've spent more than 14 hours on your couch.
- Your carbon monoxide alarm has gone off at least once.
- You've run out of alcohol.
So it's official. Cabin fever.
We all handle it in different ways. Cabin fever makes me want to purse my lips in a tight line, retreat to my room, and wallow in my own wandering thoughts. In contrast, it makes Erin want to rub her face on people's shoulders and arms and possibly thighs (depending on where you're sitting) despite said person's wishes to wallow in his or her own wandering thoughts. Mainly it's because of her need for physical touch and her uncontrollable optimism in the face of not having to go to work. She does the same to our cat, who may like snuggling even less than I do. At least I don't bite your toes when you try to do it to me.
Kristen doesn't get cabin fever because she's trying to plan her wedding. My mom also doesn't get cabin fever because she is now retired and has thus been sentenced to cabin fever for the rest of her days.
Anyway, like I said- cabin fever. It might have something to do with the idea of losing ALL of our days off in February (boo!), or the fact that there's only so much you can do with two days off. Whatever it is, tomorrow will be the last day of it, so I might as well enjoy it. Then it's back to work, back to student achievement, and back to 5:00 am wake-ups. And when I put it that way... I take back all the bad things I said about cabin fever.
BTW...
Another snow day today (hence the noontime post). It got called last night around 9 pm, and teachers were told to work at home, which I took to mean blog about experiences only slightly related to teaching. When I went to the gym this morning with my mom (trying to move around after planting myself on the couch for a solid eight hours yesterday), I almost pulled my groin walking to the car because our parking lot was a solid sheet of ice. VERY treacherous. Still, it's pretty hard to believe we got two in a row. Maybe the snow gods are giving me a second chance to get the snow day code right?
I'll probably be doing grading and report cards in a few minutes, so I guess I fail on that count.
I'll probably be doing grading and report cards in a few minutes, so I guess I fail on that count.
It's Okay, I'm in Teach For America
As I apply to law schools and various jobs in one of the worst economic recessions in history, I can't help but feel like I'm immune to it all. It's not just me. Most of my friends in TFA are following the same type of path, applying to prestigious grad schools and job programs and not blinking twice. It makes me think of those old Holiday inn commercials, because almost everyone answers questions of competitiveness with the same answer- "It's okay, I'm in Teach For America."
It's not necessarily that we're cocky, but we've been inflated quite a bit by all the hype that's going around. My year the acceptance rate was around 11%, so I think our self-esteem has been boosted by the difficulty of just getting into the program, and even more by the difficulty of sticking with it for two years. As I get deeper into the law school application process and the job application process, I'm pretty tempted to submit a letter that just says, "I did TFA. Isn't that enough?" I'm starting to second-guess that mentality, but am still holding out for people to be wildly impressed. False hope?
Probably. But at the very least I've gained confidence that if I ever get thrown into a situation for which I'm completely unprepared, I WILL come out alive-not too bad of a feeling.
It's not necessarily that we're cocky, but we've been inflated quite a bit by all the hype that's going around. My year the acceptance rate was around 11%, so I think our self-esteem has been boosted by the difficulty of just getting into the program, and even more by the difficulty of sticking with it for two years. As I get deeper into the law school application process and the job application process, I'm pretty tempted to submit a letter that just says, "I did TFA. Isn't that enough?" I'm starting to second-guess that mentality, but am still holding out for people to be wildly impressed. False hope?
Probably. But at the very least I've gained confidence that if I ever get thrown into a situation for which I'm completely unprepared, I WILL come out alive-not too bad of a feeling.
Monday, January 10, 2011
Snow Day Code
My mom came in this weekend on her way down to Florida for her two month retirement vacation. I've been counting on her to pull me out of my quarter-life crisis and advise me on EXACTLY what to do with my life and how to do it. Unfortunately, I guess other people can't give you that advice and I'm on my own. This didn't help my situation much.
What DID help my situation was the fact that the entire city of Charlotte shut down today (including CMS) because of the greatest amount of snowfall in seven years. Maybe it was only four inches, but I'll take it. Not to mention that our apartment complex looks like a winter wonderland (see below).
Although my mom wasn't able to tell me what to do with the rest of my life, she was able to introduce my roommates and me to "The Snow Day Code." Let me elaborate.
Part I: The Anticipation
Teachers (and students) know what I'm talking about- it's a crisp and clear school night and the smell of snow is in the air. All the meteorologists are calling for snow, or, if you're in the South, last minute trips to the grocery store to stock up on 30 days worth of canned food and bottled water. The pieces are there, but ultimately, the fate of the next day lies in the hands of the snow gods. Who need a little extra nudging in the form of interpretive movement.
Yes, kids, I'm talking about the snow day dance. You are probably familiar with the superstitions- wearing your pajamas inside out, banging on pots and pans, shamelessly trying to convince your parents to let you have a sleepover with your friends because there will DEFINITELY not be school the next day. But my mom (and probably her clan of former KP beavers) have PERFECTED the snow day traditions with a fail proof routine.
For snow, simply chant the words "Blow and drift!" while moving your hands and hips erratically from side to side. It works best if you have had a few cocktails beforehand.
Snow not in the forecast? Relying instead on other forms of inclement winter weather to cancel your workday? The magic words for that one would be "Sleet and freeing rain!" sung while shaking your keys over head. Again, the sound of the keys against an aluminum beer can usually intensifies the chant.
Needless to say, it worked. From what I've heard, teachers almost always get called in for a workday in spit of poor weather, so the announcement of "Code C" this morning at 4:30 am (meaning essential personnel only) was quite exciting.
Part II: The Enjoyment
According to my mom, there are several key essentials to a successful snow day. First of all, you need to jump up and down ecstatically when you first hear the news (check). Next, you have to watch the local news station for at least an hour to make sure that it's for real (check). After those two steps, the real snow day enjoyment begins.
Rule #1: Snow days are free days, not days to catch up on work.
My roommates and I failed this one. Because of my recent crisis, I spent the morning applying to jobs and convincing myself I was doomed to live in my parents' basement, penniless, for the rest of my life. One roommate was tracking student data. The other was organizing papers. My mom nearly had to force Kahlua and hot chocolate on us to get us to stop. Which leads to...
Rule #2: Snow days require at least one nap and at least one alcoholic beverage.
I don't think this one takes much explanation. We finally caught on after Ellen's prompting.
Rule #3: You must wear the most embarrassing lounging around clothing that you own.
This means rainbow pajama paints, multi-colored fleece socks, and stained sweatshirts. The comfiest things you own. I don't care if the Queen of England is coming to pay you a personal visit- this is the code. I was sufficiently embarrassed when the maintenance man came in to turn off or carbon monoxide alarm after an unfortunate fireplace incident, but again- the code.
Part III: The Wind Down
All you need for this stage is a good meal. And a TV with a weather report so you can check the chances of an additional snow day tomorrow, giving yourself ample time to digest and possibly do another dance. Join me again in about six hours, and we might have another chance to get the snow day code right tomorrow.
What DID help my situation was the fact that the entire city of Charlotte shut down today (including CMS) because of the greatest amount of snowfall in seven years. Maybe it was only four inches, but I'll take it. Not to mention that our apartment complex looks like a winter wonderland (see below).
 |
| Snowpocalypse! |
Part I: The Anticipation
Teachers (and students) know what I'm talking about- it's a crisp and clear school night and the smell of snow is in the air. All the meteorologists are calling for snow, or, if you're in the South, last minute trips to the grocery store to stock up on 30 days worth of canned food and bottled water. The pieces are there, but ultimately, the fate of the next day lies in the hands of the snow gods. Who need a little extra nudging in the form of interpretive movement.
Yes, kids, I'm talking about the snow day dance. You are probably familiar with the superstitions- wearing your pajamas inside out, banging on pots and pans, shamelessly trying to convince your parents to let you have a sleepover with your friends because there will DEFINITELY not be school the next day. But my mom (and probably her clan of former KP beavers) have PERFECTED the snow day traditions with a fail proof routine.
For snow, simply chant the words "Blow and drift!" while moving your hands and hips erratically from side to side. It works best if you have had a few cocktails beforehand.
Snow not in the forecast? Relying instead on other forms of inclement winter weather to cancel your workday? The magic words for that one would be "Sleet and freeing rain!" sung while shaking your keys over head. Again, the sound of the keys against an aluminum beer can usually intensifies the chant.
Needless to say, it worked. From what I've heard, teachers almost always get called in for a workday in spit of poor weather, so the announcement of "Code C" this morning at 4:30 am (meaning essential personnel only) was quite exciting.
Part II: The Enjoyment
According to my mom, there are several key essentials to a successful snow day. First of all, you need to jump up and down ecstatically when you first hear the news (check). Next, you have to watch the local news station for at least an hour to make sure that it's for real (check). After those two steps, the real snow day enjoyment begins.
Rule #1: Snow days are free days, not days to catch up on work.
My roommates and I failed this one. Because of my recent crisis, I spent the morning applying to jobs and convincing myself I was doomed to live in my parents' basement, penniless, for the rest of my life. One roommate was tracking student data. The other was organizing papers. My mom nearly had to force Kahlua and hot chocolate on us to get us to stop. Which leads to...
Rule #2: Snow days require at least one nap and at least one alcoholic beverage.
I don't think this one takes much explanation. We finally caught on after Ellen's prompting.
 |
| Movie time with appropriate snow day snacks |
This means rainbow pajama paints, multi-colored fleece socks, and stained sweatshirts. The comfiest things you own. I don't care if the Queen of England is coming to pay you a personal visit- this is the code. I was sufficiently embarrassed when the maintenance man came in to turn off or carbon monoxide alarm after an unfortunate fireplace incident, but again- the code.
Part III: The Wind Down
All you need for this stage is a good meal. And a TV with a weather report so you can check the chances of an additional snow day tomorrow, giving yourself ample time to digest and possibly do another dance. Join me again in about six hours, and we might have another chance to get the snow day code right tomorrow.
A Big Fat Congratulations
I'm back in Charlotte, unpacked, and trying to remain calm in the face of the approaching school day tomorrow. It's always hard to come back from vacations when they've been especially good, and this one ranks up there with the best of them. That's probably due to the MAGNIFICENT wedding of my wonderful sister and her now-husband Ryan. So as I am facing six-year-olds with dread, they'll be taking off on their honeymoon to Maui. I'm only a little jealous.
Despite several blips, including an unruly guest nearly assaulting several key wedding players (I won't go into that), the wedding was (and I quote) the "BEST F***ING WEDDING EVER!" This was said by one of my parents' friends who had just gotten married at the same place just six months earlier. I think we made an impression.
One thing I love about my family is our ability to adapt. Part of my maid of honor speech (which, I won't lie, might have been the best part of the whole debacle) was about how much Kristin is able to make the best of any situation she's in. That might be genetic. Even though none of us knew what to do during the ceremony thanks to a power struggle between Deacon Dean and Grace-Ann, the eighty-year-old wedding coordinator for the church, we still managed to pull it off without too much confusion. Minus the fact that I was constantly standing three feet away from the lovely couple staring at them (most awkward was when they were lighting the Unity Candle).
If it made me realize anything though, it was the fact that when Kristin and I were little, we NEVER paid attention in church. After we sat down to listen to the readings and the sermon, front and center with all the wedding guests staring at us, I realized that I had no idea what was happening. I should know this stuff, shouldn't I? After all, we had gone to church faithfully every Sunday, right after finishing up church school with our respective age groups. And yet, here we were, in the church where we both got Confirmed, the church where I had learned (briefly) how to whistle, the church where Jon had snuck his Gameboy into one Christmas, and completely clueless about the whole getting married process. Oh well. We still rocked it. AND the Deacon even mentioned Titanic in his sermon. That reall has nothing to do with us rocking it, but it was awesome nonetheless.
The reception went as expected, with the 100 guests whipping through 59 bottles of wine and two and a half kegs. It was New Years Eve, after all. The only real problem (again, besides the disgruntled party guest) was the stomach bug that was going around. I had it pretty bad the next morning, although it could have been due to the massive amounts of tequila the night before. There's really no way of knowing.
The main thing, though, is that my sister is now HAPPILY married and she deserves it more than anyone I know. As I said in my speech... she's spent her whole life getting other people to see the best in the mundane and the horrible, and she's finally found someone who does the same for her. Congratulations!
...and thanks for the great party.
Despite several blips, including an unruly guest nearly assaulting several key wedding players (I won't go into that), the wedding was (and I quote) the "BEST F***ING WEDDING EVER!" This was said by one of my parents' friends who had just gotten married at the same place just six months earlier. I think we made an impression.
One thing I love about my family is our ability to adapt. Part of my maid of honor speech (which, I won't lie, might have been the best part of the whole debacle) was about how much Kristin is able to make the best of any situation she's in. That might be genetic. Even though none of us knew what to do during the ceremony thanks to a power struggle between Deacon Dean and Grace-Ann, the eighty-year-old wedding coordinator for the church, we still managed to pull it off without too much confusion. Minus the fact that I was constantly standing three feet away from the lovely couple staring at them (most awkward was when they were lighting the Unity Candle).
If it made me realize anything though, it was the fact that when Kristin and I were little, we NEVER paid attention in church. After we sat down to listen to the readings and the sermon, front and center with all the wedding guests staring at us, I realized that I had no idea what was happening. I should know this stuff, shouldn't I? After all, we had gone to church faithfully every Sunday, right after finishing up church school with our respective age groups. And yet, here we were, in the church where we both got Confirmed, the church where I had learned (briefly) how to whistle, the church where Jon had snuck his Gameboy into one Christmas, and completely clueless about the whole getting married process. Oh well. We still rocked it. AND the Deacon even mentioned Titanic in his sermon. That reall has nothing to do with us rocking it, but it was awesome nonetheless.
The reception went as expected, with the 100 guests whipping through 59 bottles of wine and two and a half kegs. It was New Years Eve, after all. The only real problem (again, besides the disgruntled party guest) was the stomach bug that was going around. I had it pretty bad the next morning, although it could have been due to the massive amounts of tequila the night before. There's really no way of knowing.
The main thing, though, is that my sister is now HAPPILY married and she deserves it more than anyone I know. As I said in my speech... she's spent her whole life getting other people to see the best in the mundane and the horrible, and she's finally found someone who does the same for her. Congratulations!
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| Of course I'd pick a picture that included me, the highlight of the ceremony. |
Saturday, January 1, 2011
New Year, New Look
I spent a good part of today adjusting my blog layout. I figured that since I was no longer a first year teacher, I needed to at least change the blog title. Then I got a little edit crazy. It's pretty weird to think how much things have changed for me this past year, and it only makes me realize how much could change this year too. To borrow a TFA word, this time of year always makes me more reflective than I normally would be. It's pretty easy to think of things that you want to change- floss more, eat better, exercise- but I think too often people don't think about things they should continue doing. So this year, rather than looking for things to change, I want to find the things that I should keep the same.
- Getting 'er done: after working relentlessly (another TFA catchphrase) for the first two months of 2010, I started to burn out. I ended my first year feeling a little like I let my kids down, and thought a lot over the summer about how I could leave at a reasonable hour and still have everything done. I'm pretty proud to see how much more on top of my work I am this year, and I'm not going to let mid-year doldrums cause me to slack off.
- Having a life: part of the good that came out that February burn-out was that I finally started taking care of myself. It started out with my yoga endeavors and gradually began to include actual social interaction. I stopped working all weekend and started having fun. I finally made friends (at least two!) and felt like a real person. I'm definitely continuing THAT tradition.
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| Erin and I sampling beers mid-week |
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| Pretending to be a doctor with Al and her med school friends at a Wake end-of-year party |
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| Sunday Funday at the U. S. Whitewater Center |
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| Starting to make each other dinners... my fiesta fajita bar, complete with Coronas and margs |
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| ...and shrimp scampi with bruschetta. |
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| Live music at a gallery crawl in NoDa |
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| Actually having time to Skype Jack... even though he has a lamp coming out of his head. |
I guess what it all comes down to is continuing to try to balance everything out- work, friends, family, and molding the youth of America. There's not much more that could really make my life that much better, because in spite of all the complaints I can come up with and the negativity that sometimes seems to suffocate me, I am an extremely lucky girl.
Oh, and (of course), I want to floss more.
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