So this week is homecoming/spirit week at good ol' Miyamura High, and boy has it been interesting. First, let me say that spirit week runs a bit differently here than at home. There are inter-class competitions going on during the week, which runs the risk of causing more disunity than unity. However, we've made it work.
In case I didn't mention this fun fact, I have the pleasure of being the freshmen class advisor. Why would I volunteer for this, you ask. Why risk my health and sanity? Well, for one, I get paid extra. WIN! Also, though, I really like being more involved with the school and a lot more students know me now, which I see as an overall plus. I helped with the planning of the events and days, and I've been overseeing events as well. On Monday, everyone dressed in their favorite sports team's jersey, and we decorated the hallways for each class after school. I loved spending time with the kids, getting signs made and watching them get involved. On Tuesday was "class colors day," and the freshmen were "patterns" since we had to avoid school colors and gang colors (yes, there are gangs here. Not in Kansas [Ohio] any more Toto). Then after school were class games. Highlight of the night? Watching the male students dress as women in leggings, a bra, and a blouse. There are no words to describe how awesome it truly was. Wednesday followed with Hawaiian day (and might I say I looked pretty good in a tropical dress, red sandals, and "sunset" make-up) and then the junior/senior powderpuff game (Seniors won).
Today, though, was the piece de resistance (say it with a French accent please): 80's DAY!!! Imagine me in black heels, rainbow leg warmers, black leggings, jean shorts, and baggy, off the shoulder purple shirt, blue tank underneath, PUFFY, curly hair, and rainbow make-up on the eyes. Oh, and the classic pink hairband to hold back my bangs. I know, I know... I am awesome. Tonight is the bonfire- we're making it huge and uniting the school by (hopefully) buring a scorpian effigy (our rivals). I say hopefully because I said I would try to make one. Not sure how that's going to turn out... wish me luck!
Thursday, September 30, 2010
Sunday, September 19, 2010
There's no place like home
It's Sunday, and in AU world, this means that it is the day after bid day. Maybe that doesn't mean anything to you, but to me it means I am the most homesick I have been yet. My job and my life outside of school keep me busy, but today as I am watching football (Steelers rock!) and relaxing with friends, I find myself wanting to cry and get on the next available flight so that I can meet my new sisters.
It's not that I don't miss my biological family (I do), and I'm sure I'll sob like a small child when I get home just out of sheer joy and overwhelming emotion, but I spent my last 5 years at AU. I formed a family there, and some of my favorite people in this universe currently still reside there. They are, as we say, half of my heart, and the fact that I am not there, wearing my new bid day shirt (which are adorable), hugging my little, eating cake and singing Phi Mu songs, makes me miss home like nothing else could. I look at hundreds of pictures, but they don't do the whole scene justice. In my head I hear "I will be t-r-u-e TRUE to P-h-i-M-u Phi Mu" and in my heart I feel a little tug that doesn't seem to want to leave.
I suppose the pain is worse because I know I won't be back in Ohio until mid-December, and by then all my sisters will have left campus for Christmas and they won't return til I am back in New Mexico. The same goes for May as well. Unless I am blessed with time off and enough money, a return trip to AU just doesn't seem feasible, and this is heartbreaking for a girl whose best memories involved her sisters.
So here's to you, Phi Mu ladies- here's to the sleepovers, the late-nights, the long conversations, the hugs and the laughter. Here's to remembering what it is to feel connected to someone who isn't a blood relative but who you know should be. I would attempt to list all of your names here, but you know I cannot. There are too many of you (and that is something of which I am exceptionally proud). Here's to my second family, my home away from home, and the people who know me best. Here's to Phi Mu.
It's not that I don't miss my biological family (I do), and I'm sure I'll sob like a small child when I get home just out of sheer joy and overwhelming emotion, but I spent my last 5 years at AU. I formed a family there, and some of my favorite people in this universe currently still reside there. They are, as we say, half of my heart, and the fact that I am not there, wearing my new bid day shirt (which are adorable), hugging my little, eating cake and singing Phi Mu songs, makes me miss home like nothing else could. I look at hundreds of pictures, but they don't do the whole scene justice. In my head I hear "I will be t-r-u-e TRUE to P-h-i-M-u Phi Mu" and in my heart I feel a little tug that doesn't seem to want to leave.
I suppose the pain is worse because I know I won't be back in Ohio until mid-December, and by then all my sisters will have left campus for Christmas and they won't return til I am back in New Mexico. The same goes for May as well. Unless I am blessed with time off and enough money, a return trip to AU just doesn't seem feasible, and this is heartbreaking for a girl whose best memories involved her sisters.
So here's to you, Phi Mu ladies- here's to the sleepovers, the late-nights, the long conversations, the hugs and the laughter. Here's to remembering what it is to feel connected to someone who isn't a blood relative but who you know should be. I would attempt to list all of your names here, but you know I cannot. There are too many of you (and that is something of which I am exceptionally proud). Here's to my second family, my home away from home, and the people who know me best. Here's to Phi Mu.
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
Well I totally forgot to title the other one... so...
(Side note: forgot to title the post below. Fail. )
Ever since I moved to New Mexico, I've been thinking about Camp Bethany back home. I usually think of camp quite frequently, but it's been on my mind a lot more as of late. I consider myself, and have considered myself for the last 5 years, a counselor of sorts. No, I don't have a psychology degree and no, I don't charge $100/hour. But I've been thinking about Camp, and about all the work that we do there, and really, there isn't a better term for it. Some people may scoff at the term "camp counselor" and boil it down to an over-paid babysitter who leads activities and keeps kids in line, but those people clearly have never seen the work that we do and the time invested in our, for lack of better term, "job."
At camp, I'm not just a facilitator, monitoring kids and making sure they don't act like wild animals. I'm not just a game leader, selecting different activities for the kids to play and encouraging participation. Yes, we do all those things, but there's so much more to it. As camp counselors, we bare our souls and share personal stories in the hopes that explaining our mistakes will save at least one other person from the same pain and suffering. We invest our time and our lives in these kids, giving them an open ear, someone who won't judge them or attempt to put them on meds (not that we could, even if we wanted to do so). We SHOW them love and compassion and friendship, somethings they may not see but for one week a year. We give them advice, and not just generic, cliched empty words, but advice centered around Christ and around God.
For one week a year, I feel I am my truest self. And for several of the kids, the same is true. There is no pressure from us to acheive great things, only encouragement and support. We stop the name-calling and abuse where others would just turn a blind eye. And for many kids, we give them the opportunity to finally share a burden that has weighted down their hearts for weeks, months, or even years. I would never say that I "saved" a person; only God can do that. But I would say that God has used me to lead others to salvation, to safety, and even to peace. And in turn, I also have been led to peace.
I suppose I am writing all this down and thinking about it because, to be honest, there are certain aspects of the classroom that get to me. So much underhanded abuse takes place, so many snide remarks that can't be taken back or fixed. I see kids with cut marks on their arms or who shy away from people, and I want to stop teaching, pull them aside and just chat with them. I love teaching, but I think I finally understand is I love teaching not because of the subject (though English is great) or because of the opportunity to run my own classroom, but because it is a way to change lives.
This summer, when I contemplated the possibility of not having a job, I thought a lot about what else I would do with my free time. The one idea that constantly stuck was that of getting my Master's, but I was torn between getting my Master's in English (and then becoming a professor or writer) or in Counseling, and working in schools or churches... anywhere that kids were. I feel called towards the latter, and though I wish I had gotten said call a little earlier, I remember that God has this funny way of making everything work towards His glory, and clearly all of this will work itself out. After this year, who knows where I'll be? Perhaps I'll stay and work on my Master's while teaching. Perhaps I'll return home and focus on my studies yet again...all I know is that the best times of my life, the most wonderful memories and greatest feelings, are all connected with Camp and what has happened there. My heart always has, and always will, find it's home in that place and with those people. Now all I've got to do is figure out what's next.
Ever since I moved to New Mexico, I've been thinking about Camp Bethany back home. I usually think of camp quite frequently, but it's been on my mind a lot more as of late. I consider myself, and have considered myself for the last 5 years, a counselor of sorts. No, I don't have a psychology degree and no, I don't charge $100/hour. But I've been thinking about Camp, and about all the work that we do there, and really, there isn't a better term for it. Some people may scoff at the term "camp counselor" and boil it down to an over-paid babysitter who leads activities and keeps kids in line, but those people clearly have never seen the work that we do and the time invested in our, for lack of better term, "job."
At camp, I'm not just a facilitator, monitoring kids and making sure they don't act like wild animals. I'm not just a game leader, selecting different activities for the kids to play and encouraging participation. Yes, we do all those things, but there's so much more to it. As camp counselors, we bare our souls and share personal stories in the hopes that explaining our mistakes will save at least one other person from the same pain and suffering. We invest our time and our lives in these kids, giving them an open ear, someone who won't judge them or attempt to put them on meds (not that we could, even if we wanted to do so). We SHOW them love and compassion and friendship, somethings they may not see but for one week a year. We give them advice, and not just generic, cliched empty words, but advice centered around Christ and around God.
For one week a year, I feel I am my truest self. And for several of the kids, the same is true. There is no pressure from us to acheive great things, only encouragement and support. We stop the name-calling and abuse where others would just turn a blind eye. And for many kids, we give them the opportunity to finally share a burden that has weighted down their hearts for weeks, months, or even years. I would never say that I "saved" a person; only God can do that. But I would say that God has used me to lead others to salvation, to safety, and even to peace. And in turn, I also have been led to peace.
I suppose I am writing all this down and thinking about it because, to be honest, there are certain aspects of the classroom that get to me. So much underhanded abuse takes place, so many snide remarks that can't be taken back or fixed. I see kids with cut marks on their arms or who shy away from people, and I want to stop teaching, pull them aside and just chat with them. I love teaching, but I think I finally understand is I love teaching not because of the subject (though English is great) or because of the opportunity to run my own classroom, but because it is a way to change lives.
This summer, when I contemplated the possibility of not having a job, I thought a lot about what else I would do with my free time. The one idea that constantly stuck was that of getting my Master's, but I was torn between getting my Master's in English (and then becoming a professor or writer) or in Counseling, and working in schools or churches... anywhere that kids were. I feel called towards the latter, and though I wish I had gotten said call a little earlier, I remember that God has this funny way of making everything work towards His glory, and clearly all of this will work itself out. After this year, who knows where I'll be? Perhaps I'll stay and work on my Master's while teaching. Perhaps I'll return home and focus on my studies yet again...all I know is that the best times of my life, the most wonderful memories and greatest feelings, are all connected with Camp and what has happened there. My heart always has, and always will, find it's home in that place and with those people. Now all I've got to do is figure out what's next.
[I'm lame and forgot to title this, so here it is]
This last week has been chalk full of fun... not really. First of all, the school decided to give me my paycheck rather than direct deposit it, so I had to wait for 4 days (Fri-Mon at midnight) for it to deposit... jolly good. Thankfully, after it did deposit, I was able to get groceries, pay bills, etc. I tell you, being an adult isn't all that fun sometimes. I mean, a paycheck is nice, but not when you watch it all twiddle away. And it isn't even as if I am spending it on random, unneccessary items. I count food, electricity, car payments, and rent as MUCHO NECESSARY (what is the Spanish word for necessary... must look that up).
In other news, I have managed to re-read the entire HP series and am now reading the Percy Jackson series (something quite popular with my kids). I'm trying to keep up on their lit not only because it gives us something to talk about, but also because a good chunk of young adult fiction is actually well-written and enjoyable. Hopefully the good grammar and word choice rubs off on my readers, especially since we are now on our first big project- the narrative essay!!!!! Most of them waste class time, which is shocking because, really, why would you NOT get your work done at school and get a good grade, thereby saving you valuable free time after school and on weekends. It is beyond me.
My sickness factor is about a 3 right now- still hacking up a lung and blowing my nose every 1/2 hour or so, but it's not too bad. Apparently my immune system is in for a wild ride this year. Thanks in advance, kids, for the strep, bronchitis, colds, flu, and whatever else it is you're going to give me. Thanks a million.
I absolutely love my department right now. We had an Eng. Dept. meeting yesterday, and let me tell you- the sarcasm was abundant and wonderful. I understand why teachers can burn out so fast. Between the annoying kids, the grading, the ridiculous paper work forced upon us by the state, the random inspections, and the limited budget/materials, I'm surprised we're not all dead. Thankfully, we can depend on each other and our witty banter to make it through the day.
I have another thought I've been mulling around, but I'll turn that into another post. Toodles!
In other news, I have managed to re-read the entire HP series and am now reading the Percy Jackson series (something quite popular with my kids). I'm trying to keep up on their lit not only because it gives us something to talk about, but also because a good chunk of young adult fiction is actually well-written and enjoyable. Hopefully the good grammar and word choice rubs off on my readers, especially since we are now on our first big project- the narrative essay!!!!! Most of them waste class time, which is shocking because, really, why would you NOT get your work done at school and get a good grade, thereby saving you valuable free time after school and on weekends. It is beyond me.
My sickness factor is about a 3 right now- still hacking up a lung and blowing my nose every 1/2 hour or so, but it's not too bad. Apparently my immune system is in for a wild ride this year. Thanks in advance, kids, for the strep, bronchitis, colds, flu, and whatever else it is you're going to give me. Thanks a million.
I absolutely love my department right now. We had an Eng. Dept. meeting yesterday, and let me tell you- the sarcasm was abundant and wonderful. I understand why teachers can burn out so fast. Between the annoying kids, the grading, the ridiculous paper work forced upon us by the state, the random inspections, and the limited budget/materials, I'm surprised we're not all dead. Thankfully, we can depend on each other and our witty banter to make it through the day.
I have another thought I've been mulling around, but I'll turn that into another post. Toodles!
Tuesday, September 7, 2010
Oh No You Didn't...
Dear punk student sitting in the corner, disrupting my class, making sexual references, complaining about your punishment from last week... OH NO YOU DIDNT! You did NOT just interrupt my teaching YET AGAIN to ask a pointless question meant only to cause problems. You did NOT just ask if you could, in response the to prompt "what would you change about yourself", say you'd change your "stuff" and then point at your crotch. Oh yes, and you did NOT just ask why you were written up when you FELL ASLEEP in my class last week and failed to finish a test. I'm sorry, I just don't care. You know what you DID just do? You just got yourself a one-way ticket to the office. Have fun.
In other news, my kids now think I am awesome/scary, and I have earned respect from many of them. Several opt to eat lunch with me and Candy. This makes me feel super-di-duper awesome. Yeah!
That is all.
In other news, my kids now think I am awesome/scary, and I have earned respect from many of them. Several opt to eat lunch with me and Candy. This makes me feel super-di-duper awesome. Yeah!
That is all.
Thursday, September 2, 2010
A week of "whoas" (and woes)
First of all, let me just say how much I detest being sick. Seriously. I rarely am sick, so when it happens, it catches me off guard, and I do not appreciate it. Monday brought with it a terrible upset stomache which ruined my schoolday and made short and snippy with the kids (I know, but Maggie- you're already short. Shove off, you.). I hate being a meany (a surprise to any and all who have seen me at camp, perhaps. But then, I've always hated the 'law enforcer' role. It's the voice- when you can be heard a mile away, people tend to make you the "yeller".) *Side note- a LOT of parentheses today. Sorry*
Any who, I went home Monday and proceeded to vomit several times over the next 4 hours. Then I tried eating... and vomited again. Oops. It was a bad night. Now, I've got this ridiculous head cold that is making me stuffy and disrupting my whole "happy chee".
Ok, complaining over, moving on. School has been a B- this week. We started the week with more grammar (a personal favorite)- nouns, pronouns, adjectives, and adverbs. The kids are picking it up, and I'm not doing a lot of difficult work, just the basic parts of speech (there are 8- anyone know them?) and their functions. Wednesday I gave the GATES test, a test that gauges their level and their knowledge of vocab and reading comprehension. It was a light day for me since the GATES takes 55 minutes and class is only an hour. Today (Thurs), I had to split what I was doing since both 5th and 6th hour don't have class tomorrow due to an early release (lucky little....). So, in my first 4 classes, we did CBMs (quizzes that check for weekly comprehension), a writing prompt (describe the best or worst movie you ever saw), and a book review activity which helps the kids begin to understand plot, character, and theme.
But I'm sure hearing my wonderful lesson plans isn't nearly as fascinating as it should be, so story time!
I've been going over to Candy's house on a regular basis since I get lonely and talking to myself just isn't a viable option, although it occurs with startling frequency these days. Her kids had taken to calling me 'Miss Maggie,' of which I approve, but yesterday I was upgraded to 'Auntie Maggie' since I brought them presents in the form of a Cars juice cup, and Disney Princess plate, and Capri Sun juice jammers. I am the favorite :0). I've never been an 'auntie' before (thank God. If my siblings are reading this- DO NOT HAVE KIDS YET!) and it was a pleasant surprise. Of course, this means I am now fair game for all manner of nonsense, including (but not limited to) climbing on me, hitting me with notepads, chucking plastic screwdrivers at me, reading stories, and being hugged. I don't mind the hugging part (or even the rest of it), but hitting and such is a big no no, so now I must also lay down the law and tell them no. Let me tell you, oh ignorant world (excluding those who have or had children- bless you all)- little children under the age of 3 do NOT like being told no. At all. And they do not respond well to that word. It's like working with my high schoolers. Well, scratch that- these kids are often a step above the high schoolers. :0)
Now for the 'whoa' of the week- I had a wonderful (insert sarcastic tone here) encounter with a student who thought it would be beneficial to call a book a "queer book" and then a "fag book" because some of the characters are gay. Then, after being told not to use that language, he proceeded to call the book "the brokeback mountain of novels". Good analogy, bad timing. I was livid with him. I'm used to hearing that kind of language, but to so openly show hatred for this particular group while in a classroom setting after being told not to do so... oh man. You can imagine how well that went. I laid the smack down on him. He became my first kid to stay after class, my first discipline write up, and the first kid I sincerely wanted to boot out of class. The next day, the same student asks if he "had to take the stupid GATES test," and even after I said he did, he layed his head down and went to sleep. There were 48 questions- guess how many he answered. ZERO! So I had the rest of the class pull out their heaviest books, and on my count, they slammed them down as hard as possible. The kid jolted up and looked around, and while everyone else laughed, all I said was, "You don't sleep in my class. Ever." It was menacingly awesome.
Any who, I went home Monday and proceeded to vomit several times over the next 4 hours. Then I tried eating... and vomited again. Oops. It was a bad night. Now, I've got this ridiculous head cold that is making me stuffy and disrupting my whole "happy chee".
Ok, complaining over, moving on. School has been a B- this week. We started the week with more grammar (a personal favorite)- nouns, pronouns, adjectives, and adverbs. The kids are picking it up, and I'm not doing a lot of difficult work, just the basic parts of speech (there are 8- anyone know them?) and their functions. Wednesday I gave the GATES test, a test that gauges their level and their knowledge of vocab and reading comprehension. It was a light day for me since the GATES takes 55 minutes and class is only an hour. Today (Thurs), I had to split what I was doing since both 5th and 6th hour don't have class tomorrow due to an early release (lucky little....). So, in my first 4 classes, we did CBMs (quizzes that check for weekly comprehension), a writing prompt (describe the best or worst movie you ever saw), and a book review activity which helps the kids begin to understand plot, character, and theme.
But I'm sure hearing my wonderful lesson plans isn't nearly as fascinating as it should be, so story time!
I've been going over to Candy's house on a regular basis since I get lonely and talking to myself just isn't a viable option, although it occurs with startling frequency these days. Her kids had taken to calling me 'Miss Maggie,' of which I approve, but yesterday I was upgraded to 'Auntie Maggie' since I brought them presents in the form of a Cars juice cup, and Disney Princess plate, and Capri Sun juice jammers. I am the favorite :0). I've never been an 'auntie' before (thank God. If my siblings are reading this- DO NOT HAVE KIDS YET!) and it was a pleasant surprise. Of course, this means I am now fair game for all manner of nonsense, including (but not limited to) climbing on me, hitting me with notepads, chucking plastic screwdrivers at me, reading stories, and being hugged. I don't mind the hugging part (or even the rest of it), but hitting and such is a big no no, so now I must also lay down the law and tell them no. Let me tell you, oh ignorant world (excluding those who have or had children- bless you all)- little children under the age of 3 do NOT like being told no. At all. And they do not respond well to that word. It's like working with my high schoolers. Well, scratch that- these kids are often a step above the high schoolers. :0)
Now for the 'whoa' of the week- I had a wonderful (insert sarcastic tone here) encounter with a student who thought it would be beneficial to call a book a "queer book" and then a "fag book" because some of the characters are gay. Then, after being told not to use that language, he proceeded to call the book "the brokeback mountain of novels". Good analogy, bad timing. I was livid with him. I'm used to hearing that kind of language, but to so openly show hatred for this particular group while in a classroom setting after being told not to do so... oh man. You can imagine how well that went. I laid the smack down on him. He became my first kid to stay after class, my first discipline write up, and the first kid I sincerely wanted to boot out of class. The next day, the same student asks if he "had to take the stupid GATES test," and even after I said he did, he layed his head down and went to sleep. There were 48 questions- guess how many he answered. ZERO! So I had the rest of the class pull out their heaviest books, and on my count, they slammed them down as hard as possible. The kid jolted up and looked around, and while everyone else laughed, all I said was, "You don't sleep in my class. Ever." It was menacingly awesome.
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