Stolen Jewelry

My friend, Alicia, sells Premier Jewelry, and she asked me to host a show for her. Of course! Anything to help a friend.

We planned it for the night after my birthday, which was perfect. I was able to see some of my favorite people, eat some good food, drink some Rum punch, and look through beautiful jewelry. It was a great night.

Alicia placed the order for the party two days later and told me the jewelry would arrive within a few days. On Saturday morning, she texted me and said my order was set to arrive that afternoon via FedEx and to keep an eye out for the box. I happened to be at Shannon's house that day, so I didn't get home until about 7 p.m. that evening. I promptly went to the outside door to pick up my box. Nothing was there. I didn't think much about it. I figured my order had been delayed and would arrive on Monday.

Monday came and went without a package delivery. Tuesday came and went without a package delivery. By Wednesday, I was concerned. I texted Alicia and asked her when my package was supposed to be delivered. She checked the status through FedEx, and it stated that the package had been delivered at noon on Saturday. I then realized that FedEx had probably taken it to my apartment office, rather than drop it at my door.

I went to the office, but no, they did not have a package for me, either. By this point, both Alicia and I were concerned. Someone had stolen my package!

On Thursday, Alicia called her company to file a report. Premier called FedEx and filed a report with them. Then Premier called me to get an official statement. The lady told me that there was over $450 worth of jewelry and I needed to file a police report because someone had obviously stolen the box. Somewhere between noon on Saturday and 7 p.m. that same day, the box had gone missing. She also said they had to give FedEx two days to investigate their driver to confirm package delivery.

I went back to my apartment office to let the manager know what was going on. He stated that FedEx is required to bring ALL packages to the office if someone does not answer the door. He was furious and said this might change the way he does business with FedEx. There was no evidence that FedEx had even been on the property that day. I next filed a police report, which I've never done. It's pretty much a waste of time, FYI, and it even states that it will not be investigated but will go directly into a file. But I did it because I was told to do it.

The weird thing is, though, is that no one except my one neighbor uses the back door into my building. I have never seen a soul by the back door (I don't even use it). My neighbors only use it because they have a dog and use that entrance to go to the back grassy area. So the thing is, either my neighbors stole the box (and I honestly don't think they did), or FedEx never delivered the package (which I am prone to believe this one).

Nonetheless, I can't help but suspect my neighbors. Who else would have taken it? For over a week now I have checked the back door in hopes that my package would magically appear. It hasn't. However, Premier Jewelry is a fabulous company who re-sent the entire order (for free). We had the new package delivered to Shannon's house this time, and Shan just texted to let me know it has arrived. I'm excited to hand out all the stuff to my friends, but I am left with a little less trust for my neighbors and FedEx.

Flat Tire

In four years of riding, I have never had a flat tire on my bike. In fact, the tubes I have (had) on my bike were the exact same tubes that were there when I purchased my bike. I've been lucky in that aspect. I've been on a few rides where my riding partner got a flat tire. Luckily between the two of us, we were able to change the flat, and both times it happened, it was on the front tire, which is easy to take on and off. The back tire is very difficult to take off and on, and it makes a giant mess of grease on the hands because you have to play with the chain to get the tire off.

The good luck ended this weekend. Josh and I have been riding to church pretty regularly. From my apartment to the church and back equals about 18 miles, so it's a decent ride. The only problem is I arrive to church all sweaty and hot, but it's a laid back church so no one seems to mind. We've been doing this for about two months, and it's a good way to get a workout in AND attend church.

Josh and I were on our way back to my apartment yesterday after church. We were cruising along around 18 mph when I hit a fairly large bump. As soon as I hit it, I knew something was wrong with my bike (although I didn't realize it was a flat tire at the time). My bike started making a weird noise, and it felt really lumpy as I was riding. Josh heard the noise and yelled back to make sure I was OK. I knew something was wrong, so we pulled over to take a look.

Sure enough, I had a flat. On the back tire. Luck was on our side, though.
1). I had a spare tube in my bike bag.
2). I had all the tools required to change the tire.
3). Josh was with me.
4). We were not in a hurry to be anywhere.

Josh debated about riding the rest of the way home and getting the car, but we decided to give the tire changing a try. Josh maneuvered the back tire through the chain and got it off (with very black hands). We used my handy tools to get the tube and tire off. Between the two of us, we figured out how to put the new tube on the rim (it took us a few tries to get it right). We had my handy dandy hand pump to get air in the tire. We had all the tools necessary to get the tire back on the rim. And then we got the tire back on the bike.

It only took us 20 minutes! In the end, Josh's hands were black from grease, but we were right by the Platte River, so he headed down to the river to clean up (and saw a man panning for gold). I rode around the parking lot to make sure everything was put back properly.

And we made it home in time for the Bronco game and chili! Phew!!!

I'm just glad Josh was with me because I don't think I could have done it alone.

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!