Tales From The Cusp Of Summer Break

An unnamed teacher (not me), sitting at his/her desk, eating a store-bought boxed pie out of the pie pan with a fork, yells at me (in reference to the students) as I pass his/her class doorway:  "Take them, I don't want them anymore!"


Three unnamed teachers (two of them were not me) concluded a year of teacher mailbox prank "bombings" by taking each piece of <non-vital> mail from each and every mailbox in the mail room and placing them into a single teacher's mailbox.  Something like this:

We kid because we care.  And, said recipient is beloved by all.


A few of you will remember when we "breaded" a certain coach's mailbox for several weeks, only for him to outsmart us in the end by nailing a board to the opening of his box.


Kidnapping a student's 'robo-baby' - from the life skills class - when she left the robo-tot unattended in my classroom.  I blew my cover by not making sure the baby was turned off, as robo-tot began shrieking from my filing cabinet.


A colleague of mine was given a chocolate bar from a student through a deal struck in exchange for her mimicking performance of the "Robinson" laugh.  I will hand it to her, it's a stellar reproduction.  Sorta scary, too.


In contention for oddest question received from a student, no trivial assignment (obviously): "Miss, can I look in your desk?"  She just wanted, literally, to see the drawer contents in all of their office supply glory.  So I allowed a peek.  


Memorial Day weekend in Vegas proved to be an A Million People Per Square Inch Convention. Which, considering some horror movie scenarios, could make the sighting of the store (below) handy.  It was a great weekend, as always, but we won't return on a holiday again, nor Superbowl weekend.  The second photo below is one of our room views - spectacular!

I wish this were merely a tale, but, in sheer tragedy, a colleague - ironically one of my mailbox cronies - unexpectedly passed over Memorial Day weekend*.  With more than our share of downs this year, within the year staffing changes, and disappointments, our campus is ending the year on a somber note.  Our hearts break for the loss of our jovial friend - 100% nice guy, teddy bear personality, and generous to a fault - but most importantly for the devastation to his wife and young family.  This teacher was merely a few months younger than myself, and his three children are each under age three.  


*I doubt there's a soul in the applicable circle who doesn't yet know about his death, but we might always be mindful of what is placed on social networking sites surrounding events of this nature; despite most people wishing to simply help or express sorrow.  I.e., the "Vague-book posts/tweets," unintended reply to all recipients via smart phone comments, etc.  A recent hometown tragedy sparked a similar deluge of online activity and I hafta appreciate what one of my high school classmates piped up to mention:  "If you can't or won't give information/answer questions, it probably shouldn't be posted."  (at least, at that particular moment**)


**my addition

When life hands you fluorescent duct tape, make a blazer.

Cork-a-palooza

I have created several of the picture frame cork boards as seen below, and am happy to create one for any of you.  For free!  Gratis!  From me to you!  The catch is that I'm corked out.  Even I cannot consume vino frequently enough to maintain a modest supply of corks.  So, send me ye corks if you would like this addition to your kitchen messaging or organization system.  "Little Johnny, empty the dishwasher if you want to eat tonight!"  "Half Off Wine Bottles At Target Today!"  Until then, it's been super fun making these little guys.

Just when I thought posts about potty training were mundane

In our age of social networking, each detail of daily living, for anyone, is available, for anyone, anytime.  Since I've never potty trained a toddler and am not currently potty training a toddler (nor an animal), posts about the guaranteed stressful and arduous task of potty training a little person just, honestly, do not hold any relevance to me; for better or worse and all neutral colors in between.  Considering I once read a book about the history of candy bar brand names in all of its trivial glory, it's difficult for me to admit that anything I read is mundane.

But I may have to read mundane potty posts more carefully in the future after spying this gem (photo below) posted by a colleague's husband:

<no caption is needed, but the little person in the picture "has yet to pee in the toilet, but enjoys sitting on it for unlimited amounts of time">

We got art, yo!

In an effort to stop wasting time on the Internet and, more importantly, minimize Informationous Overloadous (a dreadful affliction), I scaled back the boards I follow on Pinterest.

The Pinspiration that brings me the most satisfaction:  I now make all of our cleaning supplies, saving inordinate amounts of money, time, and packaging.  I can share more information on that if you are (P)interested.  I knew those east Texas meth-production classes would come in handy at some point, Ma!

The creation I post about today is one derived from a Pin that sprung from this blogger's project:
Original idea...

By purchasing one of these:  Pink Panther Insulation Board, locating a helpful Home Depot clerk who whacked the thing in half for us, one shower curtain, a staple gun*, and Velcro, we now have homegrown art = <In my personal opinion, the photos do not do it justice>

*I encourage you to carry out this project if only for the joy of using a staple gun.

She said what?

Rare is the student that I do not find some facet about them that is entertaining, admirable, satisfying, or simply downright cute.  The student that inspired this post, however, is over the moon adorable in all ways.  She often talks with me before or after class about various topics, her academic focus is strong, and - possibly the best feature:  her sense of humor out-randoms mine (difficult for me to admit).  So if the Physics Gods could flash her forward a 'number' of years or jolt me back a 'number' of years, myself and this gal would be great pals.  In a recent conversation she had with me over her school Styrofoam square of breakfast* she offhandedly mentioned that she was going in for an updated eye examination soon.  She's noticed that I sometimes wear spectacles - to avoid becoming a spectacle myself - as I'm nearsighted.  We discussed glasses versus contacts for a few moments and she commented that her Mom would prefer that she wear contacts because, according to Mom, "I'm prettier without my glasses on my face."  Let me rephrase that in case you did not quite catch the translation; her Mom does not think she is as pretty with glasses.

Never one to assume too quickly, I must take into account that I have never been a mosquito in the yard while Mom stated the comment that the student heard.  Or, in what context it was mentioned.  Nevertheless, it saddened me.  I know from my conversations with this student that she has done print modeling as a young (er) child and may continue that into her teen years.  She even appeared on an episode of Barney!  Perhaps, then, the eyeglass comment from Mom was derived in some <hopefully harmless> stage-Mom foundation.  Hrm.  I'm skeptical, but all I could do was lavish on praise for not only how beautiful she is, with or without glasses, but point out that inner beauty is the ultimate basis for outer beauty.

The conversation reminded me of, ironically enough, of "The Conversation" sparked by recent media attention unfairly placed upon Ashley Judd.  If you haven't read the article she penned as a result, it's a goody.  I'm a fan of Judd for many reasons, and her plucky spirit shines right through her response: Take that, media!

*If one must partake of school cafetorium food, breakfast is your safest adventure.  Perk:  chocolate milk has not been outlawed yet, either.

I've never watched Portlandia

...but two visits to the city and two glowing recommendations of the referenced program have me considering working it into my television repertoire.  Move over, Bravo Housewives... But more importantly, Portland contains some people* very dear to my heart.  

                  D & A                                               Robertson-Beans                   

                   


I visited again recently and am working on compiling a persuasive presentation for C that entails living in the city of ports for a few months each year.  Sure, we could be some of "those" multi-residence people.  Ahem.  For starters though, we will return this summer (check your schedule, A!).  Baby steps.

Portland is green.  Portland is lush.  Portland is a small city with all of the big city conveniences.  Portland has <some> free public transportation, enough that allows my friend A and her hubs to share a single car.  Portland is, quietly, friendly.  Portlandians are accepting, and, apparently, you don't have to be off the charts hip or cool or odd to be accepted.  Portland has water.  Portland has WATERFALLS.   

 

A and I visited the Robertson-Beans and Mr. Bean, AKA:  Chef C-Swagger, prepared the most delicious and surprising dish for our enjoyment.  I've pasted the recipe below so, you too, can experience Chiliquiles.  (It's a term that needs to be said with the drama of a line delivered by Salma Hayek.)


Chiliquiles

1 can hatch green chili sauce

8 oz roasted chicken breast, shredded

3 eggs, beaten

tortilla chips

3 slices of mild cheddar cheese

salt & pepper

creme fraiche to taste (watered down sour cream...fancy)

simmer green chili and chicken for 10 min.

add eggs, cook on medium heat for 1 min.

add chips, stir until mixed

add cheese

take off heat, stir until cheese is melted, serve drizzled with creme fraiche and enjoy!

Chef C-Swagger is not only a wizard of culinary delights, he's also incredibly funny.  No really, I know you all know that I think everything is funny, but he truly is FUNNY.  Trust me.  He's also married to one of the nicest people on the planet, AND his mother-in-law is sweeter than watermelon wine.  Speaking of that crew, if you find yourself in Portland, please pay them a visit in The Pearl District:  Mabel and Zora  While there, take a break from shopping and site-seeing at Hot Lips Pizza.  

A and I share the same wicked and yet ridiculous (code:  silly) sense of humor so it's no surprise that my visit was filled with Peppermint Patty Laughs.  In fact, you can thank her for that term, friends.  She treated me to a marvelous spa day, continued culinary delights, and, naturally, stellar company.  We attempted a second foray into Voodoo Doughnuts but the line was longer than a gaggle of giggling tweens waiting to meet Justin Bieber, as evidenced by a photo in the album linked below.

Until next time, Portland.  <wistful sigh>  A smattering of Portland photos, old and new.

*only by coincidence did my dear friend "from back in the <college> day," and the sweetest family I know from my childhood, both wind up in the same Pacific NW city.