Why do you teach?

For moments like this.

Student: “Do you have ketchup in your purse?”

Me: “Nope.”

Student: “But you’re a mom, you’re supposed to have everything in your purse!”

Me: “Well, I don’t have kids yet soooo I guess I get a free pass!”

Student: “Um, I was talking about us, Kuzma. You have us and as a mom, you should have ketchup in your purse.”

Love you guys, too.

The Ides of March

I firmly believe that there is something to the idea of the Ides of March. This month is long and for teachers and students it is even longer because there is no break or three-day weekend this month. We just go straight through until mid-April when we have spring break. It’s a long stretch that makes everyone restless.

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Like clockwork, every year, it is right around now that 8th graders start losing their minds. It’s rarely a slow approach to full-insanity, but rather, it’s like one day a light switch goes off and the little people that you felt they were becoming turns into full-on crazy, dipped into extra hormones.

It began here Monday. First block. Inclusion class. Observation. Inclusion teacher out sick.

It was all a blur. I think the observation went well. However, two kids went into full-blown middle school brain within the first 10 minutes. They have not recovered. It has begun.

Soon, the rest will follow. Then around the end of April, beginning of May 8th grade seniorities fully clicks in and you’re pretty much in survival mode until they graduate. It’s a fun, strange time of year, and it comes, every year, almost like clockwork.

The Reality that is Under Eye Bags

I was fairly young when OJ Simpson killed his wife. Though, he was found not guilt of that crime, there really is no doubt in my mind that in a jealous rage, he sliced her and her friend up. There was never any other evidence that it wasn’t him and then, when he wrote that book? Yeah, that guy is guilty as they come! I’m glad that karma finally caught up with him and that though, not in jail for murder, he is in jail for 33 years and hopefully when he is up for parole this October, that he is not awarded it.

I have vivid memories of the famous low-speed Bronco chase on TV. Followed by little snippets and bits of his trial, but that was really it. My family wasn’t big sports people either, so I didn’t even know who OJ was until that trial.

When The People v. OJ Simpson came out last year, I really had no interest in watching it. I felt that a show that potentially glorified a murdering, wife-abusing asshole wasn’t worth the time I would lose to watch it. That was, up until a few days ago when at lunch, a teacher friend was telling us all how good this show was and how it really did the case justice.

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I stayed up until 5:30 this morning watching most of the series. It just sucked me in, part because of nostalgia for that time– it was cool to see the cars and the outfits that I remember from when I was young. However, it was also really interesting to re-visit this case as an adult and getting to see all the little pieces that led up to the very infamous, “if the glove don’t fit, you must acquit.” I fell asleep, so don’t ruin anything for me beyond episode 6! I plan to go right home after work and finish watching.

That is, after I scrap off the layers of makeup I put on today to you know, NOT look like I had stayed up all night. As you can see, no matter how many layers of foundation and under eye brightener I use, covers up these earned bags. It feel like ever since I turned 30, and even about halfway through my 29th year, there has just been absolutely no way to hide these babies. Is it an age thing? Should I just accept them as a fact and wear them as a badge of honor to the fact that I can still stay up all night and go to work the next day? Not going to lie, I am a little proud that I inadvertently pulled an all-nighter and was able to still get up to teach. I haven;t done that probably since student teaching when I had a 100-page teacher work sample to finish and was still expected to student intern full-time. I got through it, and I got advanced proficient on that stupid work sample that I think is somewhere in the closet of my childhood bedroom still.