Just Call Me Mrs. Dictionary

Two more amusing school stories to make you jealous that you don't spend your days with 15 year-olds.

Two weeks ago we were reading out loud in class and the word "bosom" was in the text. I don't even remember what the context was, but it wasn't an inappropriate focus at all. A boy in the front row (nice kid, outgoing, answers questions, gets along well with everyone, overall a great kid) asks, "What is 'bosom'? That's twice this week I've seen that word."

Several others laugh and call out, "You really don't know what that is?"

I turn to him and look thoughtfully for a second, evaluating if he's serious or just trying to be a punk. I decide that he really is serious, so, after a short pause, I put on a serious face and say in a monotone, "Breasts. Boobs. Mammary Glands."

Someone exclaims from the back, "Hooters!"

"Inappropraite!" I retort back and focus on getting us off this subject and on to something that matters.

Story number two. Today I was talking about growing up on a farm, and after I commented that we had cattle, one student asks, "Did you have to casterate them?"

"I didn't but my brothers did."

Groans go up across the room from many of the guys. Then the same kid from the "bosom" story asks, "What's casterate?"

Again, I pause, wondering just how to answer. "Well," I begin, "It's when you cut off a certain part of a bull that they won't be needing..."

But before I can finish the new kid (sophmore who has to retake this semester of English 9) tosses aside the emo/skater kid hair that covers half his eye, looks over at the questioner, and says, "It's when they cut the balls off."

"Well, that would be one way to put it, yes," I answer, turning back to the board to get us on track again. Someone needs to buy that kid a dictionary.

Funny school moments

For those of you who I don't see on a regular basis, here are a few school related laughs for you.

1. In my freshmen class, we were talking about the meaning of the word "angst". I commented that I like to use that word on my Facebook or blog. Instantly I was bombarded with "I'm going to request you as a friend," which led to a conversation about the myriad of reasons that I will not accept their friend requests.

"What if I have my parents friend request you?" one student calls from the back.

"I don't usually do students' parents either," I replied...and .5 seconds later realized akwardness of my response. "Do" students parents? Did I really just say that in a room of 26 freshmen? Laughter all around as I tell them to get their minds out of the gutters. A shining moment.

2. We are working on writing comparison/contrast essays (which I think may have been a part of one of Dante's' levels of hell). I'm trying to drive home the idea that their essays need to have a point. I don't want to read a list of similarities and difference just written in paragraph form. As an example, I say "Joe is comparing football and baseball. I don't just want him to list a bunch of random things like they both need balls to score..." Let's just say that you can't say something like that in front of freshmen boys and not expect a response.

A new semester has begun. Let's see if I can do a better job of keeping my students' minds out of the gutter. I'm not holding my breath.

I should've listened to them...

I made the my final trip to see Scott in Oklahoma City last weekend. Only five more weeks until he's back in Omaha for good...not that I'm counting or anything.

Highlights of the weekend included the following:

• eating a bavarian-creme filled Dunkin' Donut
• getting measured for a road bike (Sandy is persuading me to enter the dark side)
• watching college football in a sports bar downtown (even if we were, by total accident, wearing Texas orange on a day they played Oklahoma)
• visiting the Oklahoma City bombing memorial (sobering...a very tastefully, well-done memorial)
• and, of course, just getting to spend time with the love of my life :)

I also enjoyed several good audio books on the drive. The Last Lecture is a 4.5 hour reminder to fulfill your childhood dreams and keep sight of what really matters because you never know when life will be cut short. Keep a box of tissues handy.

Living the Uncommon Life (or something very close to that) was the other audio book of choice. This Max Lucado book had me so absorbed in thought about what I want my life to be that I was 45 miles east of Salina before I realized that I should be 45 miles north of Salina at that time! Who knew that not one but two four-lane divided highways/interstates ran through Salina. Not this girl!

Now if you know me at all, you know that I am somewhat notorious for not being able to follow directions well (I'm the only Koehler without an internal compass) and for getting lost. On our first trip to meet up in Wichita, for example, I was so lost that I almost cried on the phone as Scott tried to navigate me to the hotel. That particular trip, a coworker had offered me her GPS, to which I foolishly responded, "Thanks, but I'll be fine. I've got MapQuest directions. It's Wichita. It can't be that hard." Famous last words. Scott also saved me, via phone from Texas, from getting on the wrong Interstate coming east out of Denver.

This trip, on Sunday, as we parted ways, Scott offered the atlas to me. Confidently I replied, "No, I'm fine. I just go north from Wichita until I-80." Which is true, if one stays on I-35 through Wichita. I, though, was so deep in thought about the direction of my life, that I neglected to see the signs indicating multiple interstates converging, and, as luck would have it, got on the wrong one.

So there I was, in central Kansas without a map or GPS, desperately not wanting to go any further out of the way than necessary because the drive back from a trip always seems to take infinately longer than the drive there. Luckily, my good friend Stacey answered her phone at work and naviagted me north through Manhattan and some less-often-seen areas of eastern Kansas. Perhaps next time I should listen to those wise advice-giving people in my life...and perhaps now I should add "road atlas" to my Christmas list.

To all you parents out there...

If you ever question if you're doing a good job, I'd like to offer a story with a word of encouragement.

I didn't witness this event first hand, but it was all the talk at school last Monday. A week ago Friday night was the first football game of the season. Millard North vs. Millard West is one of the biggest games of the season, so I'm sure the stands were packed. At half time, just as the dance team was taking their spot on the field, a murmur began to run through the crowd: there was a streaker running on the track!

According to my teacher friend Jen, who was at the game with her 6-year old daughter and friend, the young man ran about half way around the track, realized that he really couldn't go much farther without getting caught, did a couple of hip pumps, hopped the fenced (which all the guys think was incredibly brave and/or stupid) and then promptly got tackled by a couple of school employees.

The kicker in all this story: the young man was an 8th grader! Apparently he was dared with $200 (rumors disagree if the money was from classmates or an uncle) to do the deed, but I'm sure the ticket/fine he got was more than that.

Now for my encouragement: if you're having one of those days with your kids, think to yourself, "Yes, he/she may seem ornery/out of control/(add your own adjective here) but what are the odds he/she will ever do something that stupid?" Not high, I guarantee you.

So to all you parents out there, thanks for the job you do. In my days spent with high school students, I can think of some students who drive me crazy, but the vast majority are good kids. Yours will be, too...I'm sure of it :)

That was easy!

Today we picked up our new (at least new to us...thanks Kate and Todd!) patio table. We flipped it upside down, tied it to the Yakama rack, and drove it home. That really should be the subject of another post: the items we've hauled on top of Scott's 1993 Honda Civic. The list includes building materials for the deck, patio chairs, patio tables...oh, and yes, of course, bikes :) With a Yakama rack, the possibilities are endless.

But I digress...

Putting out the new table and chairs presented another challenge: what to do with the old ones. I wasn't about to pretend that someone would buy them from me. I had paid $5 for the table at a yard sale and the chairs were still in my garage after all my female roommates moved out, even though I know I was not the one to purchase them (Thank you to Jane Thorson, I believe, for them. Apparently she had no need for cheap plastic deck chairs on her globetrotting adventures). Neither was in good shape. The table top was held to the base with zip ties, and the chairs glossy finish had been baked off in the sun, so one always wondered if they were going to get white powder on their clothes from sitting in the chairs. Not exactly high quality items that I have here.

Nor did I want to go to the trouble of taking pictures and uploading them to Craig's list to give them away. Scott offered to cut them up with the electric saw (Boys, they just can't resist destroying things), so I could slowly get rid of them in the trash, but before we went to that effort, I had one other idea.

I set them on the strip of lawn by the curb, made to "Free" signs from brown paper grocery bags, and hoped for the best. I'm not exaggerating when I say that not more than 45 minutes later, I looked out the front window to see an SUV stopped in front of our house, with a man and woman trying to figure out how to wedge the table and chairs in. They accomplished their goal, and I accomplished mine. I had no idea it would be that easy!

Refreshing

For this country-at-heart girl, there nothing quite as refreshing as a weekend at the farm. Last week marked the first full week back at school. Students and teachers alike were all a bit cranky. Nobody wants summer to end, and we all seem to be in denial over the fact. So I decided to escape for two days with a trip up north.

I think what I like about being at the farm is the simplicity I feel there. If you ask my oldest brother, Nick, who has taken over my parents' farm, he might not say life is so simple there, but that's the beauty of being a visitor rather than a permanent resident, eh?

I love running "the section" for my workout. (That's the four-mile square grid of roads, for you city folk) Beautiful wild sunflowers lined one stretch of the run. I like hearing the crunch of gravel under my feet. Even the hoard of grasshoppers rushing to get out of my way at one point was entertaining.

My aunt called on Saturday afternoon, suggesting that we come over to their farm to watch the crew lay pipe on their land for the oil pipeline from Canada to Oklahoma that is passing through Nebraska right now. So we drove on county back roads to watch big diggers and such work on the construction. Afterwards we sat in the barn on dusty saw horses, overturned buckets, and a big piece of wood, drinking cheap beer and catching up.

Today the whole family...yes, every single one of us minus Scott (who was melting on yet another 100+ degree day in Texas) gathered at my mom's house. We looked at photos, talked about the start of school, and eventually headed outside for a family wiffle ball game. If you overran first base too much, you'd run into my sister's minivan. The 1989 white Ford Taurus that I drove in high school and college sat in it's usual spot just behind second base. It hasn't moved in several years, but my nephew Blake, who is starting high school this year, has his eye on it. His mom says he's itching to learn to drive. We harrassed him all afternoon about making sure to protect the car from any center field shots....like a hit from a wiffle ball is going to make it look any worse :)

And a trip to the farm wouldn't be complete without a visit to the barn with a bucket of milk for the cats and kittens. There are 12 now, I think: four adults and eight kittens, mostly black and white spotted. Few things are more adorable than watching a kitten lapping milk with her two front paws in the milk pan, occasionally looking up and sporting a milk goatee.

So now I'm back in Omaha, needing to go to bed, lesson plans on my mind, hoping that I can take the peace I found on the farm this weekend with me into the week.

By the numbers

15: days since Scott left for tech school (for his Nebraska Air National Guard position) in Witchita Falls, Texas. If you've never heard of Witchita Falls, you're not alone. Neither had I. Apparently it's a smallish town in the flat, middle-of-nowhere northern Texas that only natives and military folks have heard of. Needless to say, I will only be driving all the way down to see him once. Witchita, Kansas, is halfway and a bit more entertaining.

3: days until I make that inagural drive to Witchita to see the my hubby.

4: months until Scott returns.

7: nights that Shoes (the cat) has been allowed to sleep in our room if she so chooses...and she has taken full advantage of each of those nights. I only wish she would just lay down and sleep and that she woudn't feel the need to be touching me when she does. I'd be lying, though, if I didn't say that I find it a bit endearing.

1: time that I've had to clean up a pile of cat puke (on the basement concrete, thankfully). Apparently she overdid it on the grass eating that night. Why do cats do that? They have to realize the consequences. I don't understand.

4.9: miles I ran (according to the Google pedometer feature) yesterday. I'm training for the Market-to-Market relay in mid-October. I'm part of a "Female Millard Teachers" team, thanks to my hometown friend, Marsha. Hoping I won't let the team down!

2: days until I officially have to report for school. How did summer pass so quickly?

2: students who I failed at least one semester in English 9 that I will teach again in English 10. Seriously?!?! Hopefully we've all matured a bit since last year.

0: lesson plans that I have as the beginning of the year looms...God help me!