Yesterday was our Friday Afternoon Knitting Club. Only two girls remembered to bring the needles and yarn. One girl, who had said she couldn't afford a pair of knitting needles and a skein of yarn, and so I bought her some, still didn't have her things with her, so she sat and watched.
I was disappointed that only two girls were prepared, and that again no boys came. Jose told me he has yarn and needles. But he couldn't come today because he was doing "community service" at lunch time (that means picking up trash) for writing the word "ass" in a National Geographic Explorer magazine above a picture of a spider monkey who was hanging upside down by its tail over a pool of water. He had tried to erase it, which just removed all color from the picture, leaving an obvious white streak. So once again he couldn't attend for trouble-making behavoir. That kid is making some bad decisions.
I guess perhaps I didn't talk it up enough. I'll do that next week, and encourage kids to have their needles and yarn at school. Then they could knit during free time. I also told kids they could invite friends. I hope more kids will come. There had been lots of interest about it originally, so we'll see.
Saturday, March 29, 2008
Hope That Helps (LOL)
Email lingo. It's a whole new way to speak. I don't even know the text messaging lingo, so can't go there...But here's an expression that drives me nuts: "Hope that helps!"
Many folks use it in their emails, but there is one gal in our building who uses it routinely. I bet she uses it as a closing on just about every email she sends. It's irritating. Here's an example that happened recently:
Me: When did you schedule the Smith conference?
She: I scheduled the Smith conference for Wednesday at 2:40 pm. Hope that helps!
Well, yes, it did help. Because I had made a specific request, that she tell me when she had scheduled a particular conference, so that I could schedule the sibling conference. And she responded with exactly what I had asked for. So, how could her information NOT have helped? It's a totally redundant statement. Maybe that's what drives me crazy about it.
I sent an email to my husband venting about my distaste for this phrase, and he responds:
"...don't let it bug you. It's just one of those expressions like 'How's it going?' that you really aren't supposed to answer because the person asking really doesn't want to know. Hope that helps."
Many folks use it in their emails, but there is one gal in our building who uses it routinely. I bet she uses it as a closing on just about every email she sends. It's irritating. Here's an example that happened recently:
Me: When did you schedule the Smith conference?
She: I scheduled the Smith conference for Wednesday at 2:40 pm. Hope that helps!
Well, yes, it did help. Because I had made a specific request, that she tell me when she had scheduled a particular conference, so that I could schedule the sibling conference. And she responded with exactly what I had asked for. So, how could her information NOT have helped? It's a totally redundant statement. Maybe that's what drives me crazy about it.
I sent an email to my husband venting about my distaste for this phrase, and he responds:
"...don't let it bug you. It's just one of those expressions like 'How's it going?' that you really aren't supposed to answer because the person asking really doesn't want to know. Hope that helps."
Friday, March 28, 2008
Small Town Living, Small Town Minds Pt. II
My daughter was involved in the local school district's musical production of "Suessical the Musical." It really was a great show, and she was really busy with it. They spent about 4 months of rehearsals, starting in December. The shows were the past two weekends. It was obvious how much work went into this, and I know it was such a great experience for Emily.
Last week in our little local paper there was a letter to the editor about how Suessical was a questionable choice for a production. It went on the say that there were so many bad messages for the kids, like unwed mothers and child abandonment (Mayzie the Lazy Bird), and using drugs to make yourself beautiful (Gertrude the bird with a one-feather tail). The letter slammed the fact that Mayze was dressed as a can-can girl and carried a MARGARITA GLASS (yes, it was in capital letters). Oh, geez. Again.
So I wrote a reply to the newspaper. It will be published next week, they say. Good. I was afraid they were too conservative. Here's my letter:
I would like to congratulate all of the...adults and students who helped
> to put on Seussical the Musical! It was a fabulous show. I enjoyed it
> thoroughly. I was so impressed at how professionally it was done. The student
> actors and actresses, who spanned four grade levels, all worked together as one
> to produce a magnificent show. The tales of Dr. Seuss are timeless, and all
> have such wholesome messages: everyone matters (no matter how small), it isn't
> the tail that makes a bird beautiful but what's inside that counts, and
> imagination is a wonderful thing! These are truly wonderful lessons for the
> youth of today. What a lucky school district...to have such dedicated
> people who work so very hard to provide this wonderful opportunity to our kids.
> It is because of these types of artistic involvement that kids can make
> healthier and smarter choices about their life. They learn so much by being in
> such a production as this. I cannot say one negative thing about this show (and
> how disappointing and sad it would be for them if that happened...).
I hope others in the community write their letters of support as well.
Last week in our little local paper there was a letter to the editor about how Suessical was a questionable choice for a production. It went on the say that there were so many bad messages for the kids, like unwed mothers and child abandonment (Mayzie the Lazy Bird), and using drugs to make yourself beautiful (Gertrude the bird with a one-feather tail). The letter slammed the fact that Mayze was dressed as a can-can girl and carried a MARGARITA GLASS (yes, it was in capital letters). Oh, geez. Again.
So I wrote a reply to the newspaper. It will be published next week, they say. Good. I was afraid they were too conservative. Here's my letter:
I would like to congratulate all of the...adults and students who helped
> to put on Seussical the Musical! It was a fabulous show. I enjoyed it
> thoroughly. I was so impressed at how professionally it was done. The student
> actors and actresses, who spanned four grade levels, all worked together as one
> to produce a magnificent show. The tales of Dr. Seuss are timeless, and all
> have such wholesome messages: everyone matters (no matter how small), it isn't
> the tail that makes a bird beautiful but what's inside that counts, and
> imagination is a wonderful thing! These are truly wonderful lessons for the
> youth of today. What a lucky school district...to have such dedicated
> people who work so very hard to provide this wonderful opportunity to our kids.
> It is because of these types of artistic involvement that kids can make
> healthier and smarter choices about their life. They learn so much by being in
> such a production as this. I cannot say one negative thing about this show (and
> how disappointing and sad it would be for them if that happened...).
I hope others in the community write their letters of support as well.
Thursday, March 27, 2008
Small Town Living, Small Town Minds
When we moved to this small community 4 years ago, I was happy. And I still am. But there is one thing I really didn't think about or consider: The small town mentality. This is quite a conservative little area, eventhough when I went to the Democratic Caucus with my husband, there were quite a few Dems from the neighborhood!
Anyway, I've been teaching about Ancient Greece to my 6th graders. Also during social studies, I take 4 students from another teacher who has a 5/6 split class. In social studies, I like to get the students involved in projects, rather than just me lecturing to them. So they began their unit on Ancient Greece with the task of creating an illustrated timeline of events in Greece's history. This took quite a while for them to complete. When we were able to move on, eventually, I decided we needed to do something with Greek Gods and Goddesses.
One of the gals who also teaches 6th grade had given me this 2-page packet of information on the Greek Gods. She had decided just to teach about the gods and goddesses, and skip the history. I looked once again at this packet, and noted that it pointed out which gods and goddesses were related to whom. I had the brilliant idea of having the kids create a family tree with names and symbols. In my mind, I could visualize it.
I really did not anticipate the fact that Zues married his sister, and he wasn't the only one. We're talking ancient Greece here, and that was probably standard practice. Our history, and the history of many cultures, are full of that. But, had I realized it or thought this activity through carefully, admittedly, I probably would not have done it.
But I did. And I got a phone call from a parent of one of the kids who comes to me from the other 6th grade classroom (which is worse, becuase I don't have that relationship with the kid or the parent). She tells me that her son is confused about what he is supposed to do for this activity. I begin to explain the activity and how long we had been working on it already, so I couldn't quite understand why at this point he was confused about it (it was due like that very day). But she then begins to question the activity, saying she had gone onto websites to help, and there was incest amongst the gods.
Yes, there was, and I really didn't know how to respond to this. In class, the kids just did the work: we discussed who was married to whom, but ignored if they were married to a sibling...But I also saw her point that it was now OBVIOUS. I wasn't sure what to say to her. I should have asked her, "What would you like me to?" But I didn't, as I wasn't still quite sure whether she was upset about her son not knowing what to do, or upset about the assignment. I later talked to the student, and made sure he had all the information he needed to complete the project at home.
I thought it was solved until one day during conferences I get an email from my beloved principal: "When you get time, can you stop by to talk?"
Ok. What did I do? We chat all the time, but this was an invitation. That always puts fear into me, even as nice as she is. I showed up during my recess, right before social studies. She has received a phone call from this parent who is very upset about the activity I did. Now, it was due a week ago, and we've moved on to a different activity concerning the gods and goddesses. But we talk about the assignment, and how it was a bit too visual with the incest, and could I just make an alternative activity for this boy?
Yes, I could. But not quickly enough for today. But the next social studies day I was prepared. I had checked a book out of the library on Ancient Greece (if our library has it, then I can say it is "district material."). I gave him a two-sided paper that was divided into four categories to gather information. When he came in, I called him over and told him that his mom didn't want him to do the Greek Gods, so I had a different activity for him. I got him settled, and to the rest of the class I handed out this sheet with sections to do descriptions of various Greek gods and goddesses. Problem solved.
I thought. Until the next morning. I walk into the office, and my beloved principal again wants to talk with me. "What now," I ask wearily.
Well, she was getting to me before I opened my email, because there was an email FROM THIS MOM who was now angry because her son was SINGLED OUT and given an assigment to do that was different from anyone else at HER SUPPOSED REQUEST! I swear, you just can't win. The email was to me but my principal had been cc'd. Since she was the one who asked me to change the assignment in the first place, she said she wanted to be the first one to respond to the email. I appreciated that.
I waited for her response, then I responded, just apologizing for us misinterpreting her desires, and I was more than happy to have him do the assignment that everyone was doing. She also had asked why had I give him all Ns for social studies on his report card, since he does all of his assignments. I check my grade book, and saw that all year he has only handed in one final project. I told her that he got Ns because I had nothing to grade.
I expected to hear back about the assignments not getting in, but I've heard nothing, and it's been a couple days now.
Geesh.
Anyway, I've been teaching about Ancient Greece to my 6th graders. Also during social studies, I take 4 students from another teacher who has a 5/6 split class. In social studies, I like to get the students involved in projects, rather than just me lecturing to them. So they began their unit on Ancient Greece with the task of creating an illustrated timeline of events in Greece's history. This took quite a while for them to complete. When we were able to move on, eventually, I decided we needed to do something with Greek Gods and Goddesses.
One of the gals who also teaches 6th grade had given me this 2-page packet of information on the Greek Gods. She had decided just to teach about the gods and goddesses, and skip the history. I looked once again at this packet, and noted that it pointed out which gods and goddesses were related to whom. I had the brilliant idea of having the kids create a family tree with names and symbols. In my mind, I could visualize it.
I really did not anticipate the fact that Zues married his sister, and he wasn't the only one. We're talking ancient Greece here, and that was probably standard practice. Our history, and the history of many cultures, are full of that. But, had I realized it or thought this activity through carefully, admittedly, I probably would not have done it.
But I did. And I got a phone call from a parent of one of the kids who comes to me from the other 6th grade classroom (which is worse, becuase I don't have that relationship with the kid or the parent). She tells me that her son is confused about what he is supposed to do for this activity. I begin to explain the activity and how long we had been working on it already, so I couldn't quite understand why at this point he was confused about it (it was due like that very day). But she then begins to question the activity, saying she had gone onto websites to help, and there was incest amongst the gods.
Yes, there was, and I really didn't know how to respond to this. In class, the kids just did the work: we discussed who was married to whom, but ignored if they were married to a sibling...But I also saw her point that it was now OBVIOUS. I wasn't sure what to say to her. I should have asked her, "What would you like me to?" But I didn't, as I wasn't still quite sure whether she was upset about her son not knowing what to do, or upset about the assignment. I later talked to the student, and made sure he had all the information he needed to complete the project at home.
I thought it was solved until one day during conferences I get an email from my beloved principal: "When you get time, can you stop by to talk?"
Ok. What did I do? We chat all the time, but this was an invitation. That always puts fear into me, even as nice as she is. I showed up during my recess, right before social studies. She has received a phone call from this parent who is very upset about the activity I did. Now, it was due a week ago, and we've moved on to a different activity concerning the gods and goddesses. But we talk about the assignment, and how it was a bit too visual with the incest, and could I just make an alternative activity for this boy?
Yes, I could. But not quickly enough for today. But the next social studies day I was prepared. I had checked a book out of the library on Ancient Greece (if our library has it, then I can say it is "district material."). I gave him a two-sided paper that was divided into four categories to gather information. When he came in, I called him over and told him that his mom didn't want him to do the Greek Gods, so I had a different activity for him. I got him settled, and to the rest of the class I handed out this sheet with sections to do descriptions of various Greek gods and goddesses. Problem solved.
I thought. Until the next morning. I walk into the office, and my beloved principal again wants to talk with me. "What now," I ask wearily.
Well, she was getting to me before I opened my email, because there was an email FROM THIS MOM who was now angry because her son was SINGLED OUT and given an assigment to do that was different from anyone else at HER SUPPOSED REQUEST! I swear, you just can't win. The email was to me but my principal had been cc'd. Since she was the one who asked me to change the assignment in the first place, she said she wanted to be the first one to respond to the email. I appreciated that.
I waited for her response, then I responded, just apologizing for us misinterpreting her desires, and I was more than happy to have him do the assignment that everyone was doing. She also had asked why had I give him all Ns for social studies on his report card, since he does all of his assignments. I check my grade book, and saw that all year he has only handed in one final project. I told her that he got Ns because I had nothing to grade.
I expected to hear back about the assignments not getting in, but I've heard nothing, and it's been a couple days now.
Geesh.
Sunday, March 16, 2008
Old Dog, New Trick
I decided to start a "Friday Afternoon Knitting Club" at school. I was inspired by two things:
1. The book that I last read called "Friday Night Knitting Club."
2. A book I read by Peg Kehret called "The Ghost's Grave." In that book, an old aunt teaches her 12 year old step-nephew how to knit. And he enjoyed it. It made me think that I could teach kids to knit, even my boys.
So I presented the idea to my class, and it was met with much enthusiasm. Even from a couple of boys, which I found to be exciting. I gave them a supply list (size 15 knitting needles and a skein of yarn.). I even did a little drawing where one winner got my pair of size 15 needles, and the other got a skein of yarn I had brought to demonstrate what materials they had to buy. The kids were excited.
Last Friday was our first official meeting at lunch recess. Only 4 girls ended up coming, but that's ok. Jose has been talking about coming, but for the first meeting to get supplies he was on suspension for fighting at recess. For last Friday's meeting, he was on suspension for calling 911 from the classroom phone. He will have to decide whether he's going to be a troublemaker or a knitter. I hope the latter.
Another person who joined us was Amanda's grandma. Amanda's grandma is a knitter. I was happy to have her. My first goal for the knitting club was to teach the kids how to cast on stitches onto the needle. With only four kids and two knitting adults, the ratio was pretty good. Amanda's grandma took two kids and got to work. I first ran to the bathroom, then came back and took the other two girls.
Soon I can tell the two girls with Amanda's grandma are getting it. There's laughter going on with that group. My two girls are all thumbs and just aren't getting it. There's no laughter; just frustration. Pretty soon I am getting mixed up on how I cast on. So I take a minute to cast on some stitches. I can't do it. I try and try and try, and I can't get any stitches on the needle. What is wrong? I've been knitting since high school. I've made things. Sweaters. Slippers. Scarves. Baby hats. Now I am all thumbs.
I say to the group, "I don't remember how to cast on stitches!" Amanda's grandma laughs, saying that had just happened to her as she tried to teach it. But her two kids now can cast on, so I told each one of them to teach each one of my two. Then recess was over.
I brought in the rest of my class. As I read aloud from "Small Steps," the two girls were teaching others how to cast on-even kids who didn't show up to our meeting. When I finished reading aloud, I tried some more to cast on stitches. I couldn't even do it anymore.
So, I called one of the girls over to teach me how to cast on. Amanda's grandma did it totally different than me, but now since I couldn't remember how to do, I needed to learn. Plus, I like how Amanda's grandma did it: you held the needle in your left hand, looping it back and fourth through the yarn that you held in your right hand. My student patiently showed me again and again until I got it! And once I got it, I totally loved doing it the "Amanda's Grandma's Method" of casting on stitches.
How funny that at my first knitting group, where my goal was to teach the students something, I was the one who was taught. I guess you CAN teach an old dog new tricks.
1. The book that I last read called "Friday Night Knitting Club."
2. A book I read by Peg Kehret called "The Ghost's Grave." In that book, an old aunt teaches her 12 year old step-nephew how to knit. And he enjoyed it. It made me think that I could teach kids to knit, even my boys.
So I presented the idea to my class, and it was met with much enthusiasm. Even from a couple of boys, which I found to be exciting. I gave them a supply list (size 15 knitting needles and a skein of yarn.). I even did a little drawing where one winner got my pair of size 15 needles, and the other got a skein of yarn I had brought to demonstrate what materials they had to buy. The kids were excited.
Last Friday was our first official meeting at lunch recess. Only 4 girls ended up coming, but that's ok. Jose has been talking about coming, but for the first meeting to get supplies he was on suspension for fighting at recess. For last Friday's meeting, he was on suspension for calling 911 from the classroom phone. He will have to decide whether he's going to be a troublemaker or a knitter. I hope the latter.
Another person who joined us was Amanda's grandma. Amanda's grandma is a knitter. I was happy to have her. My first goal for the knitting club was to teach the kids how to cast on stitches onto the needle. With only four kids and two knitting adults, the ratio was pretty good. Amanda's grandma took two kids and got to work. I first ran to the bathroom, then came back and took the other two girls.
Soon I can tell the two girls with Amanda's grandma are getting it. There's laughter going on with that group. My two girls are all thumbs and just aren't getting it. There's no laughter; just frustration. Pretty soon I am getting mixed up on how I cast on. So I take a minute to cast on some stitches. I can't do it. I try and try and try, and I can't get any stitches on the needle. What is wrong? I've been knitting since high school. I've made things. Sweaters. Slippers. Scarves. Baby hats. Now I am all thumbs.
I say to the group, "I don't remember how to cast on stitches!" Amanda's grandma laughs, saying that had just happened to her as she tried to teach it. But her two kids now can cast on, so I told each one of them to teach each one of my two. Then recess was over.
I brought in the rest of my class. As I read aloud from "Small Steps," the two girls were teaching others how to cast on-even kids who didn't show up to our meeting. When I finished reading aloud, I tried some more to cast on stitches. I couldn't even do it anymore.
So, I called one of the girls over to teach me how to cast on. Amanda's grandma did it totally different than me, but now since I couldn't remember how to do, I needed to learn. Plus, I like how Amanda's grandma did it: you held the needle in your left hand, looping it back and fourth through the yarn that you held in your right hand. My student patiently showed me again and again until I got it! And once I got it, I totally loved doing it the "Amanda's Grandma's Method" of casting on stitches.
How funny that at my first knitting group, where my goal was to teach the students something, I was the one who was taught. I guess you CAN teach an old dog new tricks.
Friday, March 14, 2008
Wednesday, March 12, 2008
Are You Really Sorry, Or Are You Just Sorry You Got Caught? Pt. II
New York Governor Spitzer. The only thing that would have been better is if he had been a holier-than-thou Republican. Me thinks thou dost protest too much...
Tuesday, March 11, 2008
Are You Really Sorry, Or Are You Just Sorry You Got Caught?
I just finished doing my grades at school, so was going through the files on my students. I came across this letter written by the Ukranian boy who said behind my back, "Shut up, old lady..." This is his apology letter, word for word:
"Dear Mrs. Teacher
Im sorry for what i did I hope you forgive I just was a little upset that you wouldn't let me speak when I want so I let my anger out by say but I shouldve just came up to you and ask palitly if we can sit to gether and if you said no I shoudve just asked you why can't we sit across so im really really sorry about that it just I let my anger out. Ill try and behave better: I really am sorry if you don't accept this then ok I just don't now what came over me...sorry.
Sincerely,
Student Name
PSS sorry bad handwriting
PS I really am sorry about my behaver please forgive me hope this apaligty will let your mind off of it i just really got upset about dumn things so i really am sorry"
Then there are two little drawings. One says "im sorry" and the other says "hop u accept my apaligy"
"Dear Mrs. Teacher
Im sorry for what i did I hope you forgive I just was a little upset that you wouldn't let me speak when I want so I let my anger out by say but I shouldve just came up to you and ask palitly if we can sit to gether and if you said no I shoudve just asked you why can't we sit across so im really really sorry about that it just I let my anger out. Ill try and behave better: I really am sorry if you don't accept this then ok I just don't now what came over me...sorry.
Sincerely,
Student Name
PSS sorry bad handwriting
PS I really am sorry about my behaver please forgive me hope this apaligty will let your mind off of it i just really got upset about dumn things so i really am sorry"
Then there are two little drawings. One says "im sorry" and the other says "hop u accept my apaligy"
Sunday, March 9, 2008
Still More
Today I had to write a couple of checks, and needed to get a new book of checks. When I checked to make sure I was grabbing the correct book of checks, I saw that the last check I wrote in the last book of checks was the check to the vet for putting Stubby to sleep. Things like this keep happening.
Saturday, March 8, 2008
Tough Time
I'm having a tough time getting over having my old cat put down. I know in my heart it was the right thing to do, the right time. But I'm still so sad. And little things happen daily that keep me, not necessarily in a full-out cry, but always welling up a bit-just enough for my eyes to remain a little red, a little puffy.
The other day I got an email from a gal I taught with many years ago when I was bringing Stubby to school. She had just read about what happened to Stubby on my blog. She expressed her sympathies. Thanks, Leah. And I cried.
I woke up at 3:30 am this morning, and cried.
I got a card from my vet. Inside it read: "...Grieve not, nor speak of me with tears, but laugh and talk of me as if I were beside you...I loved you so-'twas Heaven here with you." I cried a lot. I was coming back from getting the mail as I read it, and a neighbor was outside, wondering, I'm sure, why I was crying. So I told her what happened. Twenty minutes later she came over with a hug and a plate of chocolate chip cookies (still warm). I cried.
Emily got a sympathy card from her language arts teacher in the mail today. It made me cry.
I'll see our other cat, Sweetie, out of the corner of my eye, and I think it is Stubby. I'm sad when I realize it isn't.
It's really hard.
The other day I got an email from a gal I taught with many years ago when I was bringing Stubby to school. She had just read about what happened to Stubby on my blog. She expressed her sympathies. Thanks, Leah. And I cried.
I woke up at 3:30 am this morning, and cried.
I got a card from my vet. Inside it read: "...Grieve not, nor speak of me with tears, but laugh and talk of me as if I were beside you...I loved you so-'twas Heaven here with you." I cried a lot. I was coming back from getting the mail as I read it, and a neighbor was outside, wondering, I'm sure, why I was crying. So I told her what happened. Twenty minutes later she came over with a hug and a plate of chocolate chip cookies (still warm). I cried.
Emily got a sympathy card from her language arts teacher in the mail today. It made me cry.
I'll see our other cat, Sweetie, out of the corner of my eye, and I think it is Stubby. I'm sad when I realize it isn't.
It's really hard.
Wednesday, March 5, 2008
A Hard Morning
I just had my old cat put to sleep. She would have been 19 years old in about a month. It was time. I always said I'd never have a cat that got too old to use the litter box, and it was that point with Stubby.
But what a lot of time we've spent together. I got her when she was only about 5 weeks old. I was teaching 4th grade, only my second year of teaching. I had just moved out of my parent's house, and had also just lost a cat that was killed during the night in the snow; I found his orange fur in a bloody patch of snow the day after he was killed. I was devastated.
One of my parents that year volunteered with the PAWS agency, and would foster animals until they were ready to be adopted. She got me to foster a mother cat who had been found in a barn with her single kitten. I was to help ween the kitten, as the mother cat was already pregnant again. PAWS wanted to abort the kittens and get the mom fixed.
I went to PAWS, and this beautiful long-haired tabby cat with a little kitten peeking from behind looked out of the cage. The kitten had this short little tail that looked as if somehow part of it had been cut off. I immediately named the kitten Stubby. I took them home, and it soon became evident that the mother cat had some sort of respiritory problem. I took the mom back to PAWS for them to doctor her-and I have no idea what ever happened to the mom. But Stubby I ended up adopting.
She was so cute and so tiny. This was in May, and I hated to leave her during the day while I was at school. So, after getting permission from my principal, I had all of my 4th graders bring a permission note from their parents saying it was fine with them to have a kitten in our class (no allergies). After getting all the parent notes, Stubby became our class pet for the remainder of the year. She was an excellent pet. Every student had a little toy dangling from the corner of their desk, and when they worked, they'd pick her up if she walked by and cuddle with her. Also, she used the litter box, so that was no problem. Kids even made her a privacy screen. Each day she'd ride to and from school with me, and sit on my shoulder as I drove.
She became one of the most onery cats I ever owned! Pretty much she was mean or elusive to everyone but me, but occasionally she liked other people. She had lived so long that she had moved four different times with me. A year and a half ago, we almost had her put down, because she started to pee elsewhere. We thought then the end had come for her. But she surprised us. She's been like the Eveready Bunny. She kept going and going and going.
But this last 6 months or so she had just gotten so frail. She mostly slept, ate, and pooped, which sometimes made it all the way into the litter box. I knew one thing for sure: I didn't want her to suddenly have some kind of attack and be in pain until the end.
The vet showed up today at 9 am. I had given Stubby tuna fish this morning, and had the fire going. Her last half hour of life was spent with me, just sitting in front of the fire, and being petted. She purred and purred. When the time came, the vet first gave her a shot of anasthetic to put her to sleep. That was actually the worst part, since she had no muscle or much meat for the shot, and it hurt her. But then she just fell asleep in my lap, and when she was alseep, the vet gave her a shot of the lethal stuff that stopped her heart.
I think she had a good life.
But what a lot of time we've spent together. I got her when she was only about 5 weeks old. I was teaching 4th grade, only my second year of teaching. I had just moved out of my parent's house, and had also just lost a cat that was killed during the night in the snow; I found his orange fur in a bloody patch of snow the day after he was killed. I was devastated.
One of my parents that year volunteered with the PAWS agency, and would foster animals until they were ready to be adopted. She got me to foster a mother cat who had been found in a barn with her single kitten. I was to help ween the kitten, as the mother cat was already pregnant again. PAWS wanted to abort the kittens and get the mom fixed.
I went to PAWS, and this beautiful long-haired tabby cat with a little kitten peeking from behind looked out of the cage. The kitten had this short little tail that looked as if somehow part of it had been cut off. I immediately named the kitten Stubby. I took them home, and it soon became evident that the mother cat had some sort of respiritory problem. I took the mom back to PAWS for them to doctor her-and I have no idea what ever happened to the mom. But Stubby I ended up adopting.
She was so cute and so tiny. This was in May, and I hated to leave her during the day while I was at school. So, after getting permission from my principal, I had all of my 4th graders bring a permission note from their parents saying it was fine with them to have a kitten in our class (no allergies). After getting all the parent notes, Stubby became our class pet for the remainder of the year. She was an excellent pet. Every student had a little toy dangling from the corner of their desk, and when they worked, they'd pick her up if she walked by and cuddle with her. Also, she used the litter box, so that was no problem. Kids even made her a privacy screen. Each day she'd ride to and from school with me, and sit on my shoulder as I drove.
She became one of the most onery cats I ever owned! Pretty much she was mean or elusive to everyone but me, but occasionally she liked other people. She had lived so long that she had moved four different times with me. A year and a half ago, we almost had her put down, because she started to pee elsewhere. We thought then the end had come for her. But she surprised us. She's been like the Eveready Bunny. She kept going and going and going.
But this last 6 months or so she had just gotten so frail. She mostly slept, ate, and pooped, which sometimes made it all the way into the litter box. I knew one thing for sure: I didn't want her to suddenly have some kind of attack and be in pain until the end.
The vet showed up today at 9 am. I had given Stubby tuna fish this morning, and had the fire going. Her last half hour of life was spent with me, just sitting in front of the fire, and being petted. She purred and purred. When the time came, the vet first gave her a shot of anasthetic to put her to sleep. That was actually the worst part, since she had no muscle or much meat for the shot, and it hurt her. But then she just fell asleep in my lap, and when she was alseep, the vet gave her a shot of the lethal stuff that stopped her heart.
I think she had a good life.
Tuesday, March 4, 2008
A Real Bad Day
Next time you think you've had a bad day, think of this conversation I had after school with a gal who teaches preschool special ed:
Jolie: Well, I did something today I never thought I'd do in my teaching career.
Me: What? Did you swear?
Jolie: No. I had to cut off underwear from a student. He pooped in his pants and it was so bad, I just got out the scissors and cut them off!
Yuk. Now, SHE doesn't get paid enough...
Jolie: Well, I did something today I never thought I'd do in my teaching career.
Me: What? Did you swear?
Jolie: No. I had to cut off underwear from a student. He pooped in his pants and it was so bad, I just got out the scissors and cut them off!
Yuk. Now, SHE doesn't get paid enough...
Saturday, March 1, 2008
Not My Momma!
This week there were two incidences where boys got in fights-verbal and/or physical-and insults about their mother were involved...
The first one was right after the morning recess. Lance came up to me and told me that two other boys were teasing him at recess, saying he had lice. I called the other two boys over, and took the three of them into the hall.
I said to Lance, "Tell me again what happened." He repeated that the two boys were teasing him at recess, telling him that he had lice. The other boys protested. Then Rahim said, "Well, he said something bad about my mom..."
"Did you?" I asked Lance. No, he swore he didn't. I looked at Rahim and said, "Did Lance say something bad about your mom?" Rahim swore he did. Now, one of them is flat-out lying. I continued to question them. "What did he say about your mom?" I asked Rahim.
"He said she was g-a-y," he said.
Now, I'm working very hard here to keep a straight face. Their knowledge of the word "gay" is surprisingly innocent...But, Lance denies he said it, saying, "I wouldn't say that because I know I could get suspended!" Still, the other boys both verified that Lance did indeed call Rahim's mom gay. So, I sent all three boys to the office, because really, I just didn't want to deal with it, nor did I have the time to deal with it. Later, the boys come back saying that they had to go to the office at lunch recess. At lunch, all three sat together and were pals.
The second altercation that happened involving an insult to a boy's mother occurred between my student Jose and a 5th grade boy. All I know is that after first recess, Jose was not in class. "Has anyone seen Jose?" I ask.
"He's in the office for fighting at recess," the kids told me.
Later, Jose came in and asked if there was anything he needed, because he was going home. He looked very close to tears. By that afternoon, I had a copy of the official "white slip" he received for fighting. The reason for the fight? My student Jose had told the other boy that the boy had sex with his own mother.
Hmmm. Jose was suspended for one day, and the other boy for four days. If my student made that insult, I wonder what the other kid did...
There just was a lot of fighting going on in the name of protecting their mother's reputation...
The first one was right after the morning recess. Lance came up to me and told me that two other boys were teasing him at recess, saying he had lice. I called the other two boys over, and took the three of them into the hall.
I said to Lance, "Tell me again what happened." He repeated that the two boys were teasing him at recess, telling him that he had lice. The other boys protested. Then Rahim said, "Well, he said something bad about my mom..."
"Did you?" I asked Lance. No, he swore he didn't. I looked at Rahim and said, "Did Lance say something bad about your mom?" Rahim swore he did. Now, one of them is flat-out lying. I continued to question them. "What did he say about your mom?" I asked Rahim.
"He said she was g-a-y," he said.
Now, I'm working very hard here to keep a straight face. Their knowledge of the word "gay" is surprisingly innocent...But, Lance denies he said it, saying, "I wouldn't say that because I know I could get suspended!" Still, the other boys both verified that Lance did indeed call Rahim's mom gay. So, I sent all three boys to the office, because really, I just didn't want to deal with it, nor did I have the time to deal with it. Later, the boys come back saying that they had to go to the office at lunch recess. At lunch, all three sat together and were pals.
The second altercation that happened involving an insult to a boy's mother occurred between my student Jose and a 5th grade boy. All I know is that after first recess, Jose was not in class. "Has anyone seen Jose?" I ask.
"He's in the office for fighting at recess," the kids told me.
Later, Jose came in and asked if there was anything he needed, because he was going home. He looked very close to tears. By that afternoon, I had a copy of the official "white slip" he received for fighting. The reason for the fight? My student Jose had told the other boy that the boy had sex with his own mother.
Hmmm. Jose was suspended for one day, and the other boy for four days. If my student made that insult, I wonder what the other kid did...
There just was a lot of fighting going on in the name of protecting their mother's reputation...
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)