Life, differentiated

I finally have internet at my new apartment. And by finally I mean it's been three days since we got our keys. Addicted doesn't even begin to describe it. I'm hoping to get back in it to win it soon and get things like twitter up and running (my new phone should arrive soon!) and potentially update my blog to include links to all the awesome teacher blogs I've found this summer.

This move have been as much symbolic as it is physical for Dr. Awesome and me. We spent just over five years in Small Town, USA and we both earned our degrees there. We're officially moving on from being graduate students and moving on to the next part of our lives. Small Town, USA is where we got married and grew from undergrads into the people we are today (when we figure out who those people are we'll let you know.) Although neither of us particularly liked living in Small Town, USA, we felt kinda sad leaving it, as it is where our marriage began and grew and where we solidified the permanence of "us". Also it's where we decided to stop being lame and start being awesome instead.

Now we're in Big City, USA, though perhaps GIANT City is a more appropriate name. Our apartment is tiny, we're both having car troubles, I haven't had one single call for a job interview, and we have to move again next year. But I already love it here.

Right now I'm closer to my sister-in-law for one year, during the exact year that my brother is deployed. Right now we have a small apartment when our little family of two + kitties is the smallest it will ever be. Right now we have car trouble but we don't have to make car payments. Right now I'm planning on going to some amazing concerts and visit some really rad attractions because they are in my neighborhood, and I can, and because I don't have to go to work. I love the way people drive here, order coffee here, and most of all I love that Dr. Awesome is here with me.

Is this my life, differentiated?

The Lie Revealed

First, I must apologize for my absence. My excuses are valid. It was Mother's Day, so I went to visit my parents. Mr. Awesome had some writing to do so I helped him proof read and edit. I had allergies so I couldn't think through the zyrtec fog. I was tired so I took a nap. The Amazing Race season finale was on. You know, good excuses.

But now it's back to business as usual. Remember last week when I posted about my favorite ice breaker game, three truths and a lie? It turns out that no one guessed correctly! Here's the run down and the lie revealed.

#1: True Story. I did it to prove a point to the most out of control class I've ever had, and I'm not sorry. I don't know why children thought it would be ok to run and shove and jump down four steps and scream and push and pull hair just because there is a new teacher in the room, but believe me, they never did it again. And I never raised my voice and I never told them they were bad kids. So maybe I'm not so much mean but effective.

#2: True Story. In Small Town, USA we really do have chamber orchestras who perform in elementary schools for free. And I am really am that much of a smart ass. And my pal, the principal, really is cool enough to like me better for it. Though I will admit that I am (and have been for about 10 years) working on learning to hold my tongue. This blog isn't helping because it's allowing me to embrace my inner snark.

#3: True Story. This tops my list of most embarrassing lesson moments ever. I'm still not sure what possessed me to think it was a good lesson plan. I do know that unlike some failed lessons, which just need to be retaught, this one will never happen again unless I'm at summer camp.

...which leaves #4.

#4: LIES. All LIES. I'm so proud of myself for tricking even the best of gamers. I must say though, you all must have a terrible idea of what full inclusion looks like here in Small Town, USA. We DO have 1:1 aides and interventions and special day classes and generally amazing special ed programs. If there ever was a child that had behaviors like I made up I'm sure we would be able to meet his educational needs. Also, at the school where I work, my teachers are all team players. If I ever said I had trouble with a kid, we would certainly work on it together. So #4 is actually entirely made up.

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Has anyone ever played this game in a classroom? I think it would be a fun game to play either in the beginning of the year or at the end. It's fun to see what kids share about themselves. It would also make a great bus game for those long bus trips with fifth and sixth graders.

The door is not always open

Grocery shopping in our town is interesting. I can always guarantee I'll run into someone I know. If it's not a student of mine or a fellow teacher, it will be someone from Mr. Awesome's world of grad school. If Mr. Awesome is with me, one of his former college students will recognize him and (incorrectly, albeit not for much longer) call him Dr. or Professor.

Also, you know how most grocery stores have two entrances on either side of the store? Depending on the layout of your local store you can either come in by the veggies/produce section or by the bakery/deli. Well when Mr. Awesome and I moved here so he could start grad school eons ago, we discovered that in small town USA, both doors are not always open. Perhaps you are reading this and thinking "of course not!" but to us and our urban tendencies, we found this shocking. This is about how the conversation went hundreds of years ago when we moved here and discovered the sometimes closed door phenomenon.

"How come the other door is closed?" we asked the first time we encountered this. The store clerk looked at us like we were crazy. We looked at him like he was crazy.
"Uhh... it always closes after 7:00pm." We looked at each other in utter disbelief. The store clerk looked at us like we were freaks for asking such an offensive question.
"Is there any particular reason?"
"Dunno. It's always been done that way. Cuts back on shoplifting I suppose."

So there you have the backstory as to why tonight, when, at 7:15, I went to the store to pick up some much needed cheese for tonight's meal, the door was closed. And even after several years of trying to remember to park near the other door, I was highly annoyed.

I personally don't think it has anything to do with shoplifting or tradition. I think it's because when small town folks make a run to the store in the evening after 7:00pm they want to feel like they're doing something exciting. I can imagine their conversations.

-OOOH I bought milk at 8:00 on a school night!
-Oh Sarah you'll never believe what happened, it was so annoying I had to buy milk last night because I forgot it at the store on Saturday. Can you believe it?
-Ugh, honey, we're out of eggs, can you run to the store? No way! It's too late. 

Can you imagine what they must say about Mr. Awesome and I when we decide we need to buy discounted Easter candy, a bottle of wine, a six pack of beer, and toilet paper at 7:45 on a Monday?

I think it's time to move.

practically famous

Being a teacher (or kinda of like one, as I am...) is practically like being a celebrity. This is especially true in the eyes of kindergartners, who seem to function as my own personal paparazzi. If I ever sub for them, they scream a lot and need lots of time to calm down before our day can begin.

Every morning, many of the kinders walk through the MPR (that's multi-purpose room, AKA glorified cafeteria with a stage) on their way to their classroom. They wave frantically and smile and say good morning to me.

Inevitably, I wave back, say good morning to them and to their moms, dads, grandmas, etc. Sometimes I let them try pouring my rainstick that I use as my "shhh" stick. Sometimes I'll let them peek into the music closet. Most days they just walk by with a friendly "Good morning, Mrs. Awesome!"

Then three hours go by during which time I'll teach four or five classes which may or may not include a kinder class. Then lunch will start and while I'm tidying up and preparing for my afternoon classes, I'll also chat with the kinders and maybe help remind them to carry their trays with two hands, coach a kid through opening their milk, or remind someone that I saw him eating carrots yesterday so yes, indeed, he does like carrots.

Usually around this time they'll start saying things like this:

"Remember that time when I saw you???? YOU SAID HI TO ME!!!"
"I saw you toooo!"
"Remember when you saw me and my Tia and we said hi?"
"Member when I saw you?"
"Did you see me wave to you?"
"And me??"

I always respond with a smile and I say:

"I DO remember! I love seeing you in the mornings. Do you remember that I said hi back?"

Sometimes I have to stop myself from saying "Do you remember twenty minutes ago when I taught your whole class music?" I'm told five year olds don't get sarcasm. Something about developmental readiness. But someday when I have PTSD I will say something like that. Watch out, I will!

One time when Mr. Awesome and I were out on a date at Taco Bell and I had messy hair and a frumpy sweatshirt on (it may have been a date but it was Taco Bell!) I saw one of the families from my school. Their middle kid was one of my kinders. He recognized me and nearly spit out his taco. I winked and ducked around the corner. I whispered to Mr. Awesome what was going on. He laughed. We picked a booth on the other side of the restaurant. Rule #1 of small town USA: if you leave your home, you will run into someone you know. Rule #1.5: If you're not dressed well, it will be someone from your work world.

On their way out, the family stopped by and we made introductions. The kindergartner was speechless but the other two kids couldn't stop talking. The mom seemed happy to see that a teacher did such normal things as eat at cheap fast food places and have an awesome husband. The kindergartner though was clearly star-struck. I didn't blame him.

After all, he got to see a celebrity.