Besides teaching my lovely 8th graders, I also tutor part-time because the headlines ain’t kiddin’: teachers get paid next to nothing, and hello? I like stuff. Stuff like food and gas for my car and paying rent, which is pretty much all I can afford. But I digress.
Anyways, I tutor several students, one of whom is an absolutely adorable 10-year-old girl. When I showed up to tutor her, she was nearly jumping up and down with excitement because she got to write and essay and make a drawing for the Doodle 4 Google competition that’s currently running. It’s a really cool promotion, where students compete to have their art featured on Google’s Homepage. This year’s theme is “What I Wish For The World.”
We sat down to get started, and she was overwhelmed with the POSSIBILITY of the whole thing.
“So, tell me: if you could change anything, about any of the problems in the world we live in, what would you change?” I said, eager to hear the response of an intelligent, sweet fourth grader.
She buried her face in her hands, squished up her face and thought hard.
“Well…” she started. “You know gasoline?”
I nodded.
“Well, it puts a bad smell into the air,” she said.
“Oohhh…like pollution?” I said.
I kid you not: this child looked at me like I was a total idiot (I mean, she didn’t even know about this!).
“Um, Amy, you know when you get gas in your car and you put the thing in that hole where gas goes? IT SMELLS REALLY BAD! THE GAS!” she explained, simulating filling your car with gas.
I nodded. Holding back my giggles, I told her to draw whatever she wanted because this was her chance to show what she thought we should fix.
Wielding her pencil, she stopped.
“You know, gas is really hard to draw!” she exclaimed. I agreed, and she decided to draw some other problems.
I wish my cell phone hadn’t been lit on fire, because the montage we wound up with was humorous enough. It included 2 kids with bubble hands jump roping, with the caption “KIDS NOT FIGHTING”, a replication of a dollar bill with “BE CHEEP” written near it and the words “MAKE A CLEAN NEIGHBORHOOD.”
When she finished, she sat back admiring her masterpiece. While it was not the most artful, it did seem to deal with some “real” issues we are currently facing as a nation. I complimented her on it and she shrugged.
“It’s OK, but I really wish we could have handled that gas problem!”
Internet, I am not a stupid person. I promise. I mean, sure, we all have our moments of being absent-minded…but honestly, I’m a pretty neurotic person, meaning that I tend to have my mind and stuff together most of the time. That’s partly why this story is ever so traumatic for me.
It was early Friday morning, and I was busy getting ready for work. I was exhausted from a very long week, but so excited: it was my last day before a two-week Spring Break! We have a bit of a Crystal Light addiction in this house, so I was making a new jug of it for Andrew to have when he got up, and a turkey sandwich for my lunch. At the last second, I decided to make an egg to put on some bread for a quick breakfast. I cracked the egg into a skillet, turned on the burner and went about my business. All seemed fine and good.
Before I knew it, the entire kitchen smelled terribly. I couldn’t figure out what the heck smelled so disgusting, like plastic and fire and melting. It was awful. I turned around and saw smoke coming out from under the pan. I turned off the burner and lifted up the pan, and what did I see?
poor little black jack...
Why yes, that IS MY CELLPHONE.
I want to know: who is so stupid that they leave their cell phone on a burner? And then, it’s not like I accidentally turned on the wrong burner or anything that would be semi-reasonable. No, I put the pan down on top of the phone, without noticing that it was off-kilter and then turned on the heat.
Needless to say, I felt incredibly stupid, but I was reminded shortly after that despite this little mishap, I am not the dumbest person on earth.
After crying and having a total meltdown (get it?!) I headed to work. Since I didn’t get to finish making my egg and toast, I decided to stop at Starbucks. I ordered my Skinny Vanilla Latte and a bagel.
“Do you want your bagel toasted?” the girl asked.
“Please, that’d be great!” I said.
The girl looked at me like I was speaking a different language.
“Huh?”
“That’d be great!” I said again.
“Soooo…yes, you want it toasted?” she said, still looking lost.
“Yessss…,” I said, nodding emphatically for good measure.
“Sorry! I was confused by all of the big words!” she said, half-giggling, half-irritated.
At this moment, I stopped feeling dumb, thanked my lucky stars for cell phone insurance and held my head high.
Maybe it’s because I’ve always loved school and wanted to be a teacher, but I’ve marked time by school year for as long as I can remember. I first saw this done on one of my favorite blogs, Holly Burns’ Nothing But Bonfires and this concept is also mentioned in incredible Maggie Mason’s No One Cares What You Had For Lunch.
Preschool, Part I: Fremont, California
In the mornings, my dad wakes me up early and carries me over his shoulders into my parents room, where my mom is usually applying makeup or sitting under a hair dryer. He always wraps me up in my tiny patchwork quilt, hands me Pink Bear, and throws me over his shoulders calling, “I found a sack of potatoes for you…” My mom always smells good, and her skin is soft. I love this quiet time.
When I am dropped off each morning, there are two windows that my parents MUST drive by and wave and blow me a kiss. I do not cry when they leave, unless they forget this important step. Each of them forgets only once, and I watch their tail lights switch from red to white as they reverse to wave even more profusely than normal. Although I like school, I am never quite relaxed. I play with books and blocks and art supplies, and sing songs about Jesus. I don’t nap. Instead, I lay on my mat, suck my right thumb with the index finger folded over it, and count the minutes until my parents will come get me. Things are good when we are at home. I have a yellow room, with brown carpet. Some nights, we eat fish and chips and watch The Facts of Life.
I have one friend, and her name is Betty. Betty is Asian and looks nothing like me, a blonde, blue-eyed girl. We play on the swings and in the outdoor playhouse. One time, we decide to go to the bathroom outside near the playhouse. The principal calls us in and my mom comes to get me, wearing a grey sweater with a big pink star on it. I am sad to be in trouble, but happy to see my mom.
A few months later, my teacher takes me shopping. I get in her car, and put on my seatbelt with the top part going over my chest. She fixes it so it’s behind me, and I insist that my mom makes me wear it the other way. She persists, so I leave it, but I am scared the whole time. We get to the store, and she tells me I can pick out an outfit for my new baby brother. “But I’m having a sister!” I tell her. She laughs at this. I keep picking out dresses, until finally, she yanks a blue outfit from the racks and buys it.
When I return, another teacher gives me a knitted outfit to take home to my brother, too. I am confused. When my mom tells me that yes, I am having a baby brother, I tell her I’ll put him in the microwave. Somehow, in my little brain, that will make him a girl.
We are cleaning up after dinner when my mom hunches over and says, “My water broke!” I am happy, because I get to spend the night at my best friend Ann-Marie’s house. The next day, her mom, Deanne, shows me a picture of a little bundle. I am instantly smitten. I skip the Valentine’s Day party at my school so I can go meet my new baby brother. I’ve never loved anything so much before.
Internet, I have a confession to make. It’s hard for me to admit, mostly because this particular belief about myself is intrinsic to my self-esteem. It’s difficult for me to even type this entry because it saddens me greatly.
I think I’ve lost my ability to understand humor.
Let me explain. I grew up in a houseful of very funny people, with a sense of humor in tact. In fact, I have been told I’m “witty” and “hilarious” by more than one person who was not related to me or trying to date me. I’ve always understood jokes, told them well and laughed along with the crowd. That was until I failed to understand Internet humor. I blame Chuck Norris.
Awhile ago, this infatuation with Chuck Norris sprang up. I started seeing Chuck jokes everywhere. It seemed that everywhere I turned, the internet was LOLing about Chuck Norris’ insane abilities to eat dinner for breakfast or the fact that when the Boogeyman sleeps, he checks the closet for Chuck Norris. I saw these responses on Facebook status updates and MySpace headlines. People made jokes, and I laughed. But the truth is, Internet, I don’t know WHY this is fun or funny. Is it because I didn’t watch Walker, Texas Ranger? Or is it something deeper than that? Is it just plain ridiculousness that I just don’t seem to get? Tell me, Internet.
Now that this whole Chuck Norris business seems to be behind us, I have a new thing I don’t get the humor of: the Snuggie. The Slanket. What’s so funny, Internet? A pub crawl of people all in Snuggies? Twitter blowing up with people cracking jokes at the Snuggie’s expense? People mocking the free book light? Why is this funny? Because I’ll be honest with you: there is one reason and one reason only that I don’t own a Snuggie or a Slanket, and that is because I don’t think I’D EVER TAKE IT OFF. I doubt that my principal would be OK with me teaching in my Snuggie, though it is quite conservative and completely covers all essential areas for modesty. A blanket PLUS a robe that keeps me warm and allows for movement? Please show me the humor in a near perfect item of clothing.
I was, however, delighted that Oprah featured the Snuggie on her show today. Perhaps now it will get the respect that it deserves, instead of the incessant mocking it was receiving. One small step for man, one big step for the Snuggie.
And oh my god, oh my god, oh my god, maybe I can start thinking I understand funny things again, if the Snuggie finally earns legitimate respect.
Since we’re in the process of getting to know one another, what better way to do (besides read my About Me) than do the quintessential viral meme of 25 Things About Me…
1. I haven’t vomited since I was 14 years old. I don’t plan to ever again. The noise, smell, thought, imitation, etc. of throwing up sends me into a tailspin including tears, shaking and total fear. Before seeing a movie, I check a special website for kids that lists if there is vomit in a movie so I can anticipate it. I used to not be able to use public restrooms because I was convinced that someone inside would be vomiting. I take my chances now, but I do still get scared.
2. I love office supplies. Paper clips, binder clips, highlighters, calendars. Being a teacher is amazing, solely because I need to use all of them. This delights me to no end.
3. I hate even numbers. When I get gas, I always make sure they end in an odd number. Same thing on the treadmill, taking bites and organizing things. Oddly enough, number four is acceptable, but never at the end—and only because it’s my birthday month.
4. I realize this is lame and passive-aggressive, but I really hate people who don’t say thank you. I like courtesy waves, thank you notes and even a quick “thanks” when I help you, let you into traffic, send you something, give a gift, etc. Maybe all of those years of my mom insisting on thank you notes tainted me, but I really like them. A lot. And I try to always acknowledge gifts and even the smallest acts of goodness. I’m not saying I never forget or that I can appear ungrateful at times, but I try really, really hard not to.
5. I make ridiculous amounts of lists, for everything.
6. I have never lived outside of California.
7. I have never traveled outside of the US, but I think about it all the time, and am hoping to go somewhere the summer of 2010.
8. I adore the color pink.
9. I am a germophobe, especially when it comes to food. I hate leftovers, food that is remotely near the expiration date and anything that has been left out for over a half an hour. It freaks me out.
10. I am completely unproductive when things are messy. I literally cannot do anything else until things are clean and organized, especially when it comes to my desk at work.
11. I didn’t have TV for over 2 years. I am a take it or leave it kind of person: if I have it, I am OBSESSED, but if not, I can totally deal with it. Right now, I have it and you can bet that I am totally obsessed with all kinds of awful shows.
12. I am an NPR-a-holic. It’s on in my classroom and car almost all the time.
13. I get really sad when people cut me out of their life or simply stop making time for a friendship. I seem to hold on to these feelings of sadness a lot longer than most people do.
14. I talk to or email my parents nearly everyday, and Andrew and I spend every Sunday evening with them. I desperately need that time.
15. I LOVE calendars and day-planners. In fact, if I feel like I need a change, or a new phase is beginning, I will almost always buy one. I also use Google Calendar for everything because it’s awesome.
16. My favorite candy ever is chocolate covered gummy bears.
17. I am easily irritable and pet peeves include: loud chewers, people who chew with their mouths open, people who do not blow their nose when they clearly need to, lateness, insensitivity, bad service at restaurants, mispronunciation, txt talk and a host of other things. UGH.
18. If I don’t have coffee by 10:00 am, I have a raging headache. I am that much of a caffeine addict.
19. I strongly prefer Diet Coke to everything, including Coke Zero and Diet Pepsi. Regular soda coats my teeth, which is foul.
20. I love mail. Snail mail, to be precise. When I was younger, I maintained several pen-pal relationships with friends from camp and other places and used to clamor for the mail key. While I’ve lost touch with those friends, I love sending and receiving mail. It makes my day.
21. I have deformed pinky fingers. Well, maybe deformed is a little strong, but they don’t lay down flat; instead, they pop up at this weird angle. It’s um, not cute. But whatever.
22. When I was younger, I hated cooking and crafting anything. Once I moved out and had my own kitchen and space, I fell in love with it. My mom and grandma are still in shock, but I think it took having my own place to try and fail without everyone watching for me to get comfortable.
23. I am ridiculously proud of my handwriting.
24. It shocks the people who know me well, but I am really quiet in big groups at first. Friends who have hung out with me for years will invite me to some sort of big gathering, and instead of talking and being social, I will sit quietly on the sidelines. I really, really prefer small groups or one on one time to large groups. I am really, really shy with people I don’t know.
25. I never, ever had detention when I was in school. I am the teacher who is super sympathetic to that kid who is hysterical over being tardy or not doing their work and receiving a lunch detention. Because I would have been the same way, hands down.
I hate doing anything for the first time. I really, really like to be old and practiced and experienced.
Good thing this blogging thing isn’t new for me.
While I realize I’m a bit late to this whole “have your own website” deal, I’ve been journaling since I was seven. I started blogging in 2004 when I got my very own MySpace page. Later, I transferred it to Blogger, where I blogged as “Coffee and Sunshine” and since then, have changed blogs about 2 million times for a variety of reasons. Since I committed to taking writing more seriously this year, I decided it was time to invest in an actual, adult site that wasn’t free and crappy. So, here we are.
If you don’t know me, here’s what you can expect:
- I teach. Kids are funny. Some moments in my classroom are too funny to keep to myself.
- I am awkward. I like to watch people and eavesdrop. I often report back.
- Cooking and baking. This is in no way a food blog, but I do like to play around in the kitchen, so I’ll share that sometimes.
What not to expect:
- Good photography. I suck at photography, OK? I try. I want to be better. Maybe someday. Until then, you’ll have to suffer through my poorly taken photos with my crappy camera. I apologize.
- Um, really, really deep thoughts about how trees make you want to marinate in the yummy goodness of your soul, hooray! I’m also not one to have a “tribe” or anything else. Look: I’ve tried. I went to massage therapy school, I love yoga, etc. But that touchy feely talk really, really makes me awkward. I attempt to paint and do crafty stuff and I like it, a lot. But as for the floaty, fun, “panties” talk that seems to flow naturally for some of you–I’m jealous! I can’t rock it before at least 5 glasses of wine.
- “The Adventures of a Twenty-Something Fun Girl.” I’m not a party girl. Sure, I love to go dancing, drinking and have fun with friends, but mostly, I like sitting on the couch with my boyfriend and my cat, trying new recipes, making greeting cards, and watching the kind of television that detracts from your intelligence.
Hope you’re not too disappointed.
Wanna know more? Check out my About Me.
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This work by www.justatitch.com is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License.