One of my students approached me two days ago and this is what she said:
"So Croupe, my sister just got a new texting phone and while she was trying to send a message she screamed at it, 'Where is your apostrophe?' And I said, 'Ha! That is apostrophe!'"
For my exhausted colleagues: know that someone in your class is listening.
Also, checkout Wallwisher for a cool Web 2.0 tool for brainstorming or just for fun. Here's the link to mine:
www.wallwisher.com/wall/smilefile
Saturday, February 27, 2010
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
Welcome to Real Life
Today I had a student earnestly furious with my decision to move up the due date of the research paper by three days. The reason, though irrelevant since it is my classroom and I can move due dates if I need to, is because the electronic way I planned on accepting papers fell through. (I now need the paper in hard copy form before the students leave for Spring Break.)
Anyway, this student actually threw a mini-fit and shut down during class because of my decision. I reminded him that he has had the research paper assignment since October 2009. His response was something to the effect of, "Yeah but the due date's in like three weeks." That's correct. Yet, I only upped the due date by three days; therefore, even before I made the change, the papers were due in three weeks. I again reminded him that he has had since last October to be working on the paper. He asked if he could speak with me after class.
After class he started getting a bit indignant about my decision. So AGAIN I reminded him he's had since last fall to be working on the paper. He assured me that he has his ideas and primary/secondary sources ready (to which I wanted to ask what the problem was), but he just wasn't ready to get them all down on paper. I told him it was okay because if he is as prepared as he claims, he has the next three weeks to take care of the paper part.
At this point he began mumbling about all the other assignments he has going on and how he might have to let another class go downhill to complete his paper (the one that only had its due date changed by THREE DAYS). Now my students know they will receive very little sympathy from me regarding their busy schedules: 1. I was in band, yearbook, had a part time job, and still managed to pass all my GT classes. 2. This will be the easiest time of their lives because the public school system has mollified any real sense of responsibility to learn on their part.
I told him I had complete confidence in his ability to take care of business without having to suffer a grade slide in any other class. Apparently that was the wrong thing to say because he gave me a look that said, "you better hope I never bring a gun to school or you'll be first."
It was at this point we got to the root of the problem because he exclaimed, "It's just that I have a whole lot of work and not enough fun to balance it out."
WELCOME TO REAL LIFE KIDDO!
Anyway, this student actually threw a mini-fit and shut down during class because of my decision. I reminded him that he has had the research paper assignment since October 2009. His response was something to the effect of, "Yeah but the due date's in like three weeks." That's correct. Yet, I only upped the due date by three days; therefore, even before I made the change, the papers were due in three weeks. I again reminded him that he has had since last October to be working on the paper. He asked if he could speak with me after class.
After class he started getting a bit indignant about my decision. So AGAIN I reminded him he's had since last fall to be working on the paper. He assured me that he has his ideas and primary/secondary sources ready (to which I wanted to ask what the problem was), but he just wasn't ready to get them all down on paper. I told him it was okay because if he is as prepared as he claims, he has the next three weeks to take care of the paper part.
At this point he began mumbling about all the other assignments he has going on and how he might have to let another class go downhill to complete his paper (the one that only had its due date changed by THREE DAYS). Now my students know they will receive very little sympathy from me regarding their busy schedules: 1. I was in band, yearbook, had a part time job, and still managed to pass all my GT classes. 2. This will be the easiest time of their lives because the public school system has mollified any real sense of responsibility to learn on their part.
I told him I had complete confidence in his ability to take care of business without having to suffer a grade slide in any other class. Apparently that was the wrong thing to say because he gave me a look that said, "you better hope I never bring a gun to school or you'll be first."
It was at this point we got to the root of the problem because he exclaimed, "It's just that I have a whole lot of work and not enough fun to balance it out."
WELCOME TO REAL LIFE KIDDO!
Thursday, February 18, 2010
Lots of Fish in the Sea-So Let's Eat Them!
Yesterday started for me at 5:00 A.M. and ended at 10:00 P.M. That is unusually long, but by the end of the day I felt tired in a good way.
Ash Wednesday meant that I was up and ready for 6:15 A.M. Mass with my baby boy who received ashes for the first time. There are numerous reasons why I love going to the first Ash Wednesday Mass of the day including not having to miss work to go during the day or miss class at night for the evening Mass. My favorite reason is so my ashes are visible all day long. As a faithful and humbly proud Catholic, I see the ashes as a sort of badge of honor. Ironic, I know, considering the ashes partly represent the sins I wish to repent and move away from during the Lenten season (and really for the rest of my life). It's just cool to see who is walking around with that undeniable smudge upon his/her forehead.
One of the best parts is when I see my students wear their ashes to school. To me it negates all the morons walking around with Rosaries as necklaces, something very disrespectful since a Rosary is NOT a piece of jewelry, to distinguish their "gang" relations (yes, they really choose to use a sacramental for dubious purposes). It's a great reminder that there are still teenagers in existence not ashamed to express their faith, or at least, parents out there still laying a foundation of faith for their children.
The most interesting occurrence is the trend for everyone, not just Catholic Christians, to jump on the Lenten bandwagon. Many Protestant Christians I know have started having Ash Wednesday services and distributing ashes. All of that is fantastic! Keep it up! I am overjoyed about this trend of Protestants coming back to many Catholic roots because those are some of the things I adore about my faith. When you participate in these kind of things my heart is happy because you too are experiencing the Lord on a new level.
Just please don't try to sell me on your denomination because it is doing all these awesome "new" things. The fact that they think they are doing something new and super holy is what is frustrating to me. Let's be fair to the Catholic Church. One reason, although definitely not the main reason, Protestants are Protestants is because they do not wish to follow all the traditions and Sacraments of the Catholic Church. Yet, I've witnessed Protestant churches distribute Communion the exact same way Catholics distribute it, and I've had Protestant students come to me in excitement about receiving ashes the exact same way Catholics receive them, etc.
I have friends and students who want to convince me that Catholic is not the way to go, but then they do very Catholic things. Please don't misunderstand, if you choose to observe the Lenten season by making a big deal about Ash Wednesday and abstaining* from something to make yourself a better Christian, you will have my 100% support. Instead of discounting my religion, let's chat about the two ways we believe. We can agree to disagree about some things and agree to agree about others. It might actually surprise some people to see how similar we really are.
Ash Wednesday meant that I was up and ready for 6:15 A.M. Mass with my baby boy who received ashes for the first time. There are numerous reasons why I love going to the first Ash Wednesday Mass of the day including not having to miss work to go during the day or miss class at night for the evening Mass. My favorite reason is so my ashes are visible all day long. As a faithful and humbly proud Catholic, I see the ashes as a sort of badge of honor. Ironic, I know, considering the ashes partly represent the sins I wish to repent and move away from during the Lenten season (and really for the rest of my life). It's just cool to see who is walking around with that undeniable smudge upon his/her forehead.
One of the best parts is when I see my students wear their ashes to school. To me it negates all the morons walking around with Rosaries as necklaces, something very disrespectful since a Rosary is NOT a piece of jewelry, to distinguish their "gang" relations (yes, they really choose to use a sacramental for dubious purposes). It's a great reminder that there are still teenagers in existence not ashamed to express their faith, or at least, parents out there still laying a foundation of faith for their children.
The most interesting occurrence is the trend for everyone, not just Catholic Christians, to jump on the Lenten bandwagon. Many Protestant Christians I know have started having Ash Wednesday services and distributing ashes. All of that is fantastic! Keep it up! I am overjoyed about this trend of Protestants coming back to many Catholic roots because those are some of the things I adore about my faith. When you participate in these kind of things my heart is happy because you too are experiencing the Lord on a new level.
Just please don't try to sell me on your denomination because it is doing all these awesome "new" things. The fact that they think they are doing something new and super holy is what is frustrating to me. Let's be fair to the Catholic Church. One reason, although definitely not the main reason, Protestants are Protestants is because they do not wish to follow all the traditions and Sacraments of the Catholic Church. Yet, I've witnessed Protestant churches distribute Communion the exact same way Catholics distribute it, and I've had Protestant students come to me in excitement about receiving ashes the exact same way Catholics receive them, etc.
I have friends and students who want to convince me that Catholic is not the way to go, but then they do very Catholic things. Please don't misunderstand, if you choose to observe the Lenten season by making a big deal about Ash Wednesday and abstaining* from something to make yourself a better Christian, you will have my 100% support. Instead of discounting my religion, let's chat about the two ways we believe. We can agree to disagree about some things and agree to agree about others. It might actually surprise some people to see how similar we really are.
**Here's a Lenten tip for those of you wishing to be a part of this spiritual time of year: you don't have to give something up to participate in the Lenten season:)! Aside from abstaining from red meat on Fridays because that's the expectation, you can actually promise to do something extra during these 40 days to improve yourself and your faith. For example, I have a Lenten devotional with something for me to meditate on every day of Lent. I have also set the goal of praying as a family every night, attending at least one Stations of the Cross, and of course I will go to Confession before Easter Sunday.
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
Paging Dr. House
I did it. I worried myself into a stomach acid nightmare. One bowl of cream of wheat and my insides were on fire. In no dimension does that make sense.
In case it is the starting of an ulcer, the doctor signed me up for an upper GI x-ray. It sounded easy enough. Just take pictures of my guts and tell me if I'm going to die of anxiety. Wrong.
On the table in the x-ray room, being good little ducklings in a row, were plastic cups filled with various liquids and solids, all of them white. That's a good sign right? White is a hopeful color. At least I kept reminding myself of that. The tech starts to explain the procedure. I am expected to swallow the tablespoon of tiny pellets because they will create gas in my system to make it easier to see things. After which I cannot burp to release the gas. (Let's now dwell on how I would keep myself from releasing it any other way.) The thicker white goo would be after the gas pellets. It would taste awful, I was forewarned, but make me feel better after the pellets. Huh? Would the pellets make me breathe fire after they created gas?
After gulping the goo, I would be expected to roll around on a table so they could get all angles of my stomach and esophagus. Now, I'm not a genius, but rolling around on a full stomach would make people without tummy troubles vomit. This was getting more interesting by the moment. Finally, the tech informed me the doctor would be in briefly to perform the x-ray.
In my head Foreman, Chase, or 13 would be walking in. Heck, I'd even settle for that Taub guy. Why can't visits to the hospital be Hollywood glamorous? See, still in my head of course, should one of the already mentioned characters appear I would know that Dr. Gregory House is right around the corner. How awesome would that be? I could match wit with the most cynnical of physicians.
Instead I had a nice, elderly doctor come in and hand me the little pellets to get started. He reminded me that they needed to go as far back in my throat as possible because they would start reacting as soon as they hit my tongue. He wasn't kidding!
I discovered the secret ingredient in Wonka's Fizzy Lifting drinks. Holy cow. The moment I got those pellets in my system I expected to shoot straight up to the ceiling. I kept having to keep myself from burping, and a couple of seconds after the gas had formed it felt like a flaming arrow was being lodged in my chest. The doc caught onto my pain and immediately took his pictures and had me start drinking the goo. Instant relief! Whew.
Once my stomach was weighed down with the second cup of goo, I had to roll around to make sure it coated everything. Again, that about made me throw up. All in all, the whole procedure took about 10 minutes. I couldn't decide if I would rather be tortured by drinking gas pellets and being told not to burp or under a magnesium sulfate drip.
Now I just have to wait and see what my doctor says. In the meantime, I will burp my way out of here.
In case it is the starting of an ulcer, the doctor signed me up for an upper GI x-ray. It sounded easy enough. Just take pictures of my guts and tell me if I'm going to die of anxiety. Wrong.
On the table in the x-ray room, being good little ducklings in a row, were plastic cups filled with various liquids and solids, all of them white. That's a good sign right? White is a hopeful color. At least I kept reminding myself of that. The tech starts to explain the procedure. I am expected to swallow the tablespoon of tiny pellets because they will create gas in my system to make it easier to see things. After which I cannot burp to release the gas. (Let's now dwell on how I would keep myself from releasing it any other way.) The thicker white goo would be after the gas pellets. It would taste awful, I was forewarned, but make me feel better after the pellets. Huh? Would the pellets make me breathe fire after they created gas?
After gulping the goo, I would be expected to roll around on a table so they could get all angles of my stomach and esophagus. Now, I'm not a genius, but rolling around on a full stomach would make people without tummy troubles vomit. This was getting more interesting by the moment. Finally, the tech informed me the doctor would be in briefly to perform the x-ray.
In my head Foreman, Chase, or 13 would be walking in. Heck, I'd even settle for that Taub guy. Why can't visits to the hospital be Hollywood glamorous? See, still in my head of course, should one of the already mentioned characters appear I would know that Dr. Gregory House is right around the corner. How awesome would that be? I could match wit with the most cynnical of physicians.
Instead I had a nice, elderly doctor come in and hand me the little pellets to get started. He reminded me that they needed to go as far back in my throat as possible because they would start reacting as soon as they hit my tongue. He wasn't kidding!
I discovered the secret ingredient in Wonka's Fizzy Lifting drinks. Holy cow. The moment I got those pellets in my system I expected to shoot straight up to the ceiling. I kept having to keep myself from burping, and a couple of seconds after the gas had formed it felt like a flaming arrow was being lodged in my chest. The doc caught onto my pain and immediately took his pictures and had me start drinking the goo. Instant relief! Whew.
Once my stomach was weighed down with the second cup of goo, I had to roll around to make sure it coated everything. Again, that about made me throw up. All in all, the whole procedure took about 10 minutes. I couldn't decide if I would rather be tortured by drinking gas pellets and being told not to burp or under a magnesium sulfate drip.
Now I just have to wait and see what my doctor says. In the meantime, I will burp my way out of here.
