Sunshine, Shark fin, and Submarines

I'm fondly remembering the 70 degree weather in Florida as it was 19 degrees on my way to work; it felt like 11, and I was wearing a skirt. We really need to get some laundry done. Between work and Thanksgiving, the beginning of November seems so long ago. At that time, Ben and I sardined ourselves into airplanes to head down to Mobile, Alabama. From there, we trekked on to Pensacola, Florida, for the wedding of my best friend from high school. We arrived late at night, so it was not until the next day that we were introduced properly to Pensacola. Overall, the trip ended up being filled with good friends, good food, and good fun.

The good friends definitely came as a big surprise. I'm pretty shy, so I had been anticipating an personally awkward wedding where I didn't talk to anyone. I was SO grateful that Ben had come with me; he's my social security blanket. Imagine my astonishment when we roll out of the hotel room, me without my hair or make-up done, and suddenly I see four people in the parking lot turn their attention towards us. My eyesight has gotten a little fuzzy lately, so I did not recognize them immediately. The fuzzy figures quickly focused, and two of my best friends from high school and their wives greeted us enthusiastically. This wedding was definitely going to be even better than I thought!

Either way, though, it really would have been an incredible wedding. It was a lovely combination of Jewish, Chinese, and military traditions that was a heck-of-a-lot more fun and romantic than most weddings I've been to. Annie was a sight in both her white and red gowns; she looked very happy. All in all, it was nothing short of a feast for eyes, hearts, and, of course, stomachs. From the shark fin soup and jellyfish salad to the shrimp and duck, all was thoroughly documented by James and enjoyed by everyone at the Mormon table (it all went nicely with the Martinellis...).

Best of all, I got Ben to dance.

Anyway, the next morning, after we caught a second helping of primary program at a local chapel, Ben and I headed out. Now, what we did highlights what big nerds (and how well-suited) we are. There we were, on a beautiful sunny day, just scant miles from a beach, and what do we want to do? We both wanted to head to a WWII battleship that we had spied lurking in the dark on our way there. The USS Alabama was incredible! We could have stayed for hours longer, but we had to head back to the airport (and to reality). However, to preserve the memory, we did manage to get a disposable camera to document the adventure (as the camerawoman forgot her camera...).
It is amazing how much they fit inside this vessel. It truly was a floating city, with everything from a dentist's, to a cobbler shop, and an ice cream parlor. But they were all very small...A couple of the most interesting were the pharmacy and the photographer's shop. Aren't all these old cameras cool?
They also had the WWII submarine the USS Drum there for people to wander through. We took it at more of a run because of time constraints, but that was all we needed to decide Ben should never have to live on a submarine. He wouldn't fit any of the beds.

The Grateful Dead

The lights buzz overhead, and I hear the sound of Charles vacuuming the room next door. I know there are a kids roaming the halls, but they are mostly at the other end of the school near the gymnasium. Thanksgiving break has begun, and, boy, am I glad. This first semester of teaching has been good, but I definitely feel the need to recharge a little bit before I'll be ready to tackle the second. However, that is not the only thing I am grateful for. As much as vacation delights me, I can look around the classroom and find so many reasons to be grateful to be here. Here are four miscellaneous things about Room 306 that make me happy:

1. The white board at the front of the room started out as the "Grateful" board and ended up as "The Grateful Dead" board. Additionally, the students are grateful for among other things Morgan Freeman, Christmas trees, chocolate chips, cars that don't break down, and "Ms. V's outfit advice" (which mostly consists of taking girls aside and informing them that nylons do not constitute pants....).

2. Ms. V's calendar. I share a room, and I really respect and love my roomy. One thing that she has up by her desk is a calendar that has a whole bunch of nature facts on it. I understand that it is simply trying to tell general time frames, but who can resist laughing when it lists "Woodchucks (groundhogs) are asleep in underground nests" on November 4. They don't sleep any other day? And so you know, the milkweed pods open on the 30th.

3. The sticky note on the closet that says "Narnia." In our classroom, there is a door at the back of the room. "Where does that go?" the students ask at the beginning of the year. Well, technically it simply is a closet with some volleyball equipment, Spanish stuff, and the English multimedia equipment. Apparently someone else decided it was Narnia. I like to think of it as being like Superman's phone booth. Non-descript teachers enter, but athletic super-humans emerge! Alright, I exaggerate, but it frequently does get used as a dressing room.

4. The essential question poster with the misspelling. At the beginning of the year, I quickly made a set of posters for our classroom listing the sophomore history and English "essential questions." They are "How and why do communities form?"; "What is power, and how does it manifest itself in a community?"; and "How is manipulation and persuasion an aspect of power?" Well, that is what they are supposed to say. Just two days ago I noticed that I had misspelled "persuasion." So far, I'm the only one that I know has noticed it, which makes me laugh.

Well, vacation has officially started, and I'm done ruminating. It's time to pack up and head home. I'll be especially grateful if I don't run out of gas...

Things Not to Say to Teenagers, Revisited

Is it ironic that after my gaff with the conch the next unit in English is Freud? Now I've had to explain what a phallic symbol is. The Washington Monument will never be the same to them...

3545

I survived Spirit Week. Barely. Let's just say that during the course of the week, I went to school dressed in a prom dress and tennis shoes, dressed as a dwarf, and with the flags of Germany and Belgium adorning my hair. No, it makes no sense, but that is the insanity of it all. This is homecoming week at a school with no football team. There is no one place to focus the energy, so it just explodes into a chaotic mess of school pride, leaving everyone drained by Friday. I lay in bed this morning wishing, longing to be able to stay there for another hour or two. That, however, was not in the cards. Instead, Ben and I got up early and ventured into the cool October morning to run our very first 5K. While more quality time with my pillow would have been nice, in the end I felt good and very lucky.

Ben and I have not been as diligent lately with getting out of the house and running, so we were a little apprehensive about the run. Or I should say I was a little apprehensive about the run. Ben has this indomitable confidence that he can do things that boggles my mind. I was worried that I was not going to make it. School has been a huge energy drain, and running has taken a back seat. With this in mind, we knew that we were not going to be contenders for first place, so we diligently took our positions with the rank-and-file behind the start line.

Someone yelled, "Start!" Ben and I soon eased into a steady pace, our feet rhythmically pounding the asphalt. Before too long, he surged ahead of me. My short legs just can't keep up with him! His lean figure would pop into view between the trees whenever we rounded a corner. While I could not rival his pace, I managed to hold my own. The sound of footsteps and breathing accompanied me throughout the majority of the race as I stayed just ahead of one lady. A few feet in front of me, another girl held the distance steady until I surged ahead toward the end.

My lungs were threatening revolt as I rounded the last bend to see a family from our ward and Ben cheering me on. We had made it! Ben finished in 26 minutes 25 seconds, while the clock read just over 28 minutes when I crossed the line. It didn't matter that we were no where near the top times (about 17 minutes for the men and 21 for the ladies); our times are great for us! We'll see how much our legs complain tomorrow.

Our legs, however, are the only part of us that has any room for complaint. Both our bib numbers (3544 for Ben and 3545 for me) were pulled during the raffle afterwards. Talk about lucky! In the end, I traded a lazy morning in bed for the experience of running a 5K, bread for a year, and a night's stay at a hotel downtown. Yeah, it was worth it.

Oh, the insanity!

I'm breaking my tradition of posting once per month. You are probably all beside yourselves with joy. What prompted such an occasion can be summed up in two words: school lunch. Ah, the glory days of mystery meat covered in slop that jiggled in a disturbing way! I know all of you wish you could go back to those days.

Well, I have....sort of. I do eat school lunch everyday. Admittedly, I often grab a salad at the salad bar because of a) time and b) my picky eating habits. However, the origin of the pickiness isn't what you think. Here is this week's lunch menu (hopefully you can read it):


This is a typical lunch menu. My school is crazy.

Things Not to Say to Teenagers

There are definite reasons why I am not and never will be a politician. For one, I am an abominable liar. The second reason was driven home to me just a couple of days ago. Sometimes, especially when I'm nervous, I'll say things before I realize the full potential meaning. The words just come out, and the egg begins to bake on my suddenly-red face.

As many of you are aware, I am now about two weeks into my first teaching job. You could call my position a "filler" because I help fill in some of the scheduling gaps. I teach the sixth grade art classes, a ninth grade art class, and two tenth grade English classes. I teach in five different classrooms. So, with my newby status and weird schedule combined with my naturally-nervous temperament, it may be understandable that I have been a little flustered at one point or another.

Here is the set-up: I'm in the middle of one 10th grade English class. The students have been discussing various aspects of the book Lord of the Flies for the last two weeks. During the first part of the class's discussion, I mentioned that I had a conch shell that the other sophomore English teacher gave me. The first question that popped out of the students' mouths was, "Have you tried to blow on it?" After all, at the beginning of LOTF, Ralph blows the conch, calling the boys together and cementing his position as a leader.

Here was my thought process: "She had that conch for a while, and someone even had tried coloring on it with green marker. Ew, gross! I wouldn't put my lips to such a thing. Who knows where it's been?" I'm guessing some of you may get where this is leading.

"I wouldn't blow on anything whose full history I didn't know."

Oh, goodness. I could see the boys starting to sway back and forth in their chairs, overcome with the giggles. My brain started screaming, "Back peddle, back peddle!" There was no going back however, and I knew it would be best to just move on. So I tried.

Tried was the operative word. The classroom was muggy from the rain outside, and bodies had filled the room all day long. I was wearing a cardigan, but my face was turning red and I could feel the perspiration rising.

"Oh, goodness, it's hot." And I take off my sweater.

The laughter redoubles.

I told my teaching roommate my story after school, for which I received a resounding, "That's fantastic!" Yes, yes, but let's just say I didn't repeat the mistake when my other class asked if I had blown on the conch.

5.03

Forgive me my weakness. I usually try to avoid gushing on my blog as much as possible, but I just can't resist. My husband is wonderful. We celebrated our one year anniversary this last week, and I couldn't help but marvel at what a blessing this year of marriage has been. While I am seriously tempted to list out all the things I love about him, I'll just stick to one. He supports me in achieving my personal goals, in this case running.

Inside me there is a kinda pudgy asthmatic which is amazed at the fact that this morning I ran 5.03 miles (as per the calculations of mapmyrun.com). And I felt good at the end. This stands in stark contrast to the junior high "fun runs," which for me were not fun nor involved that much running. I don't remember if I ever made it through the 1.5 miles without stopping to walk, and, despite coming in towards the last, I sometimes had to whip out my inhaler. Yeah, I was cool.

Now things are a lot different, and my dear husband helps keep me motivated. I have a photograph of our running shoes framed in our front room because a good part of our courtship was spent running and walking together. Although in the last few weeks he hasn't been able to go with me, he always shows a genuine interest. He lets me know he is proud of my progress, and I have accomplished something: last month I hit the 300-mile mark on my running shoes. And I know he'll be my cheerleader for the next 300 and beyond. Thanks, sweetie!