Teaching is Fun

This here is Chicken Little, from the kids cartoon. Chicken Little is a fable about a chicken who believes the world is coming to an end. The phrase, "The sky is falling!" features prominently in the story. I have a student who looks just like Chicken Little. In fact, his friends call him Chicken. I actually call him Chicken, too, although not to his face. Can you see the resemblance?

Chicken is one of the funniest students I have ever had. He is about 4'10" tall and probably weighs about 90 pounds. He is a sophomore, although he looks more like a 4th grader. Despite his size, he is well liked among his peers, and he loves to be the center of attention.

While I adore this kid, he often drives me nuts because he is as spacey as they come. One minute he will have a pencil in his hand; five seconds later he will be searching frantically for his pencil that he somehow misplaced. He'll find it on his ear, forgetting he placed it there. I will tell my students to turn to page 1107, and five minutes later he'll raise his hand to ask what page he should be on. He lost his camera the other day, so I allowed him to leave to go find it. He came back with a gloomy look on his face, telling me he couldn't find his camera. As he sat down at his desk, I asked him if that was his camera in the black bag sitting behind his desk. Sure enough, it was! He is the biggest space cadet I have ever met.

The other day as I gave a verbal quiz, I was on question three to the class and Chicken raised his hand. "Ms. Nichols, what was question one? I haven't even started." Another student shouted, "Chicken, get your head out of the cloud." The classroom erupted in laughter at his clever pun. Chicken, with a completely straight face said, "I don't find that funny at all." The classroom became dead silent. To break the silence, I said, "I thought it was funny." Laughter ensued (including Chicken because he's a good sport like that), and the clever student was so proud that he made the teacher laugh.

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This here is Joey, who is also a sophomore. He's a big guy, and put next to Chicken, they make quite the funny pair. Last week, Joey was sitting in his desk, minding his own business when his desk snapped in half. It completely folded him up, as you can see. Joey goes, "Man, this is the second desk this year I have broken." I was just glad it wasn't me sitting there.

I now am one desk short, and the school is out of desks. I have a student sitting on the floor now because I don't have enough desks.

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We are reading The Crucible in my sophomore classes. It's about the Salem Witch Trials back in 1692. Abigail and John Proctor are having an affair in the play, and Abigail says to John, "I will never forget how you clutched my back behind the barn and sweated like a Stallion whenever I came near." A student raised his hand. "Ms. Nichols, what does it mean to clutch one's back and sweat like a Stallion?" On one hand, I was relieved that this kid didn't know what it meant. On the other hand, I blushed as I explained the meaning of those words. "Let's just say they were making love behind the barn." "OK, OK, OK. You don't need to say anymore. Enough. That's embarrassing!"

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These are the moments that make teaching so much fun.

Football

Goooooooooooooooo CSU!!!!

(I have no stakes in CSU, nor do I typically care if they win or lose. However, they are playing CU right now, whom I hate. So I'm definitely rooting for CSU right now).

Goooooooooooooooo Biiiiiiiiiiiiiigggggggggggggggggg Reeeeeeeeeeeeeeddddddddddddddd!
Go Big Red!

Ma'am

I am game manager for all the home games at Chatfield this year. This means that I am in charge of the money, I have to line up all the workers for the game, I have to take care of the referee's, if there is a problem during a game, I am responsible for handling it, I have to play the National Anthem, etc.

There are three doors that lead into the main gym. I am only allowed (per the district) to hire someone to guard two of the doors, so it's a constant battle to keep kids from sneaking in the back door.

Last night during the Volleyball game, it was a constant struggle all night. Baseball practice ended about the same time the Varsity started playing, and I caught about 10 boys trying to sneak in. I stood by the back door myself protecting the area. They were surprised to find me standing there and were ashamed to have snuck in.

I stood at the back door for about 20 minutes but then had to leave it unmanned to take care of a matter. I kept my eye on the door, though, even though I wasn't standing there.

About 10 minutes after I had left, two little freshman boys snuck in. I was quick on the draw, and quickly made my way over to stop them. I confronted them and said, "Boys, you're not allowed to enter unless you pay."

I could see the fear in their eyes. They were so shocked to have gotten caught, and they were embarrassed, too.

Their reply: "We're so sorry, Ma'am. We didn't know, Ma'am. We'll never do it again, Ma'am. We'll leave right now, Ma'am." They quickly ran away.

I almost let them in for free if they promised never to call me Ma'am again!

My Birthday

I did 30 really well. I liked 30. It was a very good number for me, and now it's gone forever.

Thirty-one was very bittersweet for me for many reasons. I celebrated with Josh, which was great. I also received over 50 texts/Facebook messages/several phone calls from those nearest and dearest to me. I felt loved and very popular (thanks Facebook for making me popular for a day).

But my day didn't come and go without a feeling of unease. I couldn't help but think, "I'm no longer 30." I kept the day very low-key on purpose, which was just what I needed to reflect over the past several years.

On top of it was the looming feeling of sadness that I CELEBRATE my birthday on one of the worst days in American history. I sometimes feel so selfish for making the day about me when the day is so much bigger than me. Some 3,000 people lost their lives 10 years ago, but so many more wives, husbands, and children lost those they loved most.

The impact of 9/11 did not hit me on my 21st birthday 10 years ago. I was too confused and young to know what was happening. I got it, but I didn't get it. I was ticked off that day because my birthday had been ruined. I was mad because my last day of work was forgotten. I was angry because everyone forgot it was my birthday. I was furious because I waited in line for gas for over an hour then ate DQ as my birthday dinner and was in bed by 9 p.m.

I was upset because those terrorist had ruined MY 21st birthday.

I think this year I truly got it. Ten years later, yes, but this year wasn't about me and my birthday. I really took some time to reflect on those lives that were lost. I watched the TV specials. I teared up as Josh and I, along with other members of the church we attended on Sunday, sang "America, The Beautiful" and had a moment of silence. I thanked Josh for his service to our country and thought about the many, many more lives that have been lost in war due to what happened 10 years ago.

I got it.

September 11 is my birthday. It always will be. It will always suck to celebrate on that day, but please know that those lives are not lost in my celebration. That day 10 years ago is seared in my memory forever, and I will forever honor those who died for our country as I thank God for my life and all the blessings he has bestowed on me.

The End of "Tradition"

My story begins about three years ago, when upperclassmen at Chatfield decided they wanted to start a "tradition" of chanting "FRESHMAN SUCK" during assemblies. At any loll in an assembly, the seniors would start the chant, and before anyone could stop it, 1,500 sophomores, juniors and seniors would be chanting along. Our pathetic principal last year decided he was going to stop it (Chatfield has gone through 5 principals in the past 7 years-it's a tough school and no one has been able to make the cut thus far). Bernie was one of them.

During the Homecoming assembly last year when the chanting started, Bernie grabbed the microphone and started scolding the kids.

"Come on. That's enough. Stop it. I said stop it. I'm going to cancel this assembly if you don't stop. Please stop. That's enough, or else...." All empty threats.

His pleas could not be heard over the chanting, and our staff hung our heads in shame. Not only did we not respect our principal, but the students did not respect him either.

After several minutes of useless pleas, Bernie then decided that if they wouldn't listen to his demands, then they might stop chanting if he threw prizes at them. So rather than cancel the assembly as he threatened, he started throwing out prizes to those who were chanting the loudest. Chick Fil A coupons. T-shirts. CFA stuffed cows. DQ coupons. The chanting eventually stopped, but he had basically just rewarded them for their horrific behavior.

The chanting continued through that assembly and also through our spring assembly as well.

Bernie "quit" at the end of last year.

Wendy, our new principal is fabulous. She is confident. She is strong. She is a leader. The first words out of her mouth on our first day back was, "I'm your new principal, and the FRESHMAN SUCK chant will be ended. I will not tolerate it, and it has met its match. I have a plan in place, and this will be the end of this harassment." The staff cheered.

The kids got wind weeks ago that the chant was over, and that has been the main topic of conversation through the hallways. "But it's tradition. She can't stop it."

They obviously don't know what a tradition is.

And they obviously don't know that Wendy CAN stop it.

As the Homecoming assembly approached (today), students grew more and more upset. They wanted to do chant it. They "deserved" to chant it because it was done to them so why can't they do it to the freshman?

Oh, to have no other concerns in the world.

Wendy pulled aside all the juniors and seniors on Wednesday (all 1,000) and spoke to them about respect, honor, pride, etc. It was a positive talk overall, and she assured them that if the chanting started, the assembly would be called off, classes would resume as normal, and potentially the Homecoming dance would be canceled. She was booed.

She then received a threatening email saying she was a dictator and she was "ruining my child's senior year by putting a stop to this tradition."

Unreal.

Wendy laughed.

Teachers could barely get through class on Wednesday because students were so upset that their beloved "tradition" had supposedly come to an end. Rumors floated around that the chant would still be done but they would wait until the very end of the assembly. Rumors also floated that they were going to chant, "Wendy sucks." Bring it on. We dare you to try.

I had a student walk into my 3rd hour class on Wednesday (that had 30 students) and yell, "Freshman suck." He got it from me, his coach, another teacher, and the assistant principal. He later apologized for his rude and disrespectful behavior.

The staff has been on edge all week.

Today was the assembly.

First hour: My students whispered. "Are you going to do it? Should we do it? Will she really cancel the assembly and dance? I don't think we should do it."

Second hour: "It's our right to do it. We're doing it."

Assembly: All was quiet. Well, not quiet because it's so loud in the gym that you can't hear yourself think. But the students were respectful. They didn't do it. They lasted 55 minutes without chanting "Freshman suck." Teachers swelled with pride. This was finally the school where we were proud to work. These were the students we have helped raise. This was the pride we want our school to have.

And then 20 senior boys, at the very last second of the assembly, started the chant.

How dare they!

Teachers swarmed. We got them. It lasted about 10 seconds. Their peers glared. No one else followed suit. Out of 2,000 students, 20 isn't that bad, I guess.

We're all very proud of the other 1,980 students.

And freshman don't suck. Those 20 boys suck!

Bags

Me: So, how does it feel to be dating an older woman?

Josh and I were standing in the bathroom staring into the mirror. His head was on my shoulder, and I was looking for wrinkles on my face.

Josh: A MUCH older woman, you mean? Well, I consider myself pretty lucky. You look pretty good for your age.

Me: I agree. I figured by the time I hit mid-thirties I'd look a bit older, but I think I'm holding out well for 31.

Josh: You're not mid-thirties. Yet.

Me: GASP!!!!!!

Josh: What? What's wrong? Are you OK?

Me: Look!

I pointed at my face

Josh: Yes. You're beautiful. What's wrong?

Me: I have bags under my eyes! I've never noticed them before, but look!!!

Josh stared intently at my face. Sure enough, they were there. Small, yes, but bags nonetheless. As long as I don't smile, you can't see them, but when I smile, man, they are there!

I guess I can't hide my age any longer. It's official. I'm 31 in five days, and I have bags when I smile.

When did you first discover bags?

What is Your Reply?

I'm addicted to Angry Birds. But that's not the point of my story.

However, I was playing Angry Birds while out shopping with Josh. Well, Josh was doing the shopping. I was standing in an aisle playing Angry Birds. I just couldn't beat this one level, and I was getting frustrated. I paused to regroup and put on my game face for another round when I heard this conversation between store owner and homeless man:

Homeless: Man, I sometimes wish there wasn't such a thing as the devil.

Owner: I agree. Why do you say that?

Homeless: Because right now the devil is sitting on my shoulder telling me to go drink. And I want more than anything to go drink, but I just can't do it. Every time I drink, I love it so much while I'm drinking. It's fun. I love the taste. But the next day, I am so sick I can't even move. I get shaky. I'm dehydrated. And all I want to do is keep on drinking.

Owner: Have you been to AA recently?

Homeless: Well, I go every once in a while, but I just don't enjoy the meetings.

Owner: Perhaps you should go out and do something nice for a stranger to get your mind of drinking. Mow a lawn. Pull some weeds.

Homeless: (Full of anger)-Look, man. I'm not looking for a handout. I don't want your money. I don't want money from strangers. I'm not going to mow a lawn and then take their money because all I'll do is spend it on booze.

Owner: Calm down. I wasn't meaning you're asking for money. What I meant was, if you went and filled your time with something good for someone else, maybe you wouldn't be so tempted to drink.

Homeless: Sorry, man. I get what you're saying. I hear you. I just want to drink, that's all.

My heart was filled with compassion for this man. He hadn't had a drink in a few days, but he was itching to get his hands on the stuff.

The following day, Josh and I tried out a new Baptist church in Greeley. The sermon was about what consumes our minds. It was about being mindful of the things we fill our minds with. Sin or Christ?

I thought of the homeless man, whose mind is consumed with alcohol. And then I thought of myself. I realized that we all have something that eats at us, consumes us, is that little devil sitting on our shoulder. Our devil varies, from alcohol to TV to bad thoughts to gossip to jealousy to Angry Birds. The list goes on and on.

What consumes your mind?

What is the devil shouting in your ear?

And what is your reply? Do you listen? Do you comply? Do you give in?

Or do you consume your mind with Christ? Do you pray? Do you mow a lawn to get your mind off it? Do you shut the devil up?

What is your reply?