Thanksgiving Leprechauns

Every Friday, I have my class copy down a poem, to work on their handwriting. Last week, we had to do our poem on Wednesday, since we weren't in school on Thursday or Friday. As you might have been able to guess, the poem was about Thanksgiving. Here it is:

Thanksgiving Day

Thanksgiving is a special day 

To celebrate each year

We gather with our closest friends

Who come from far and near. 

We have so many things to eat

Turkey, stuffing, and pumpkin pie

Topped with a mountain of sweet whipped cream

That reaches clear up to the sky!

This particular week, I also had them color in the head and legs, from the knees down, of a pilgrim boy or girl. They glued these on the top and bottom of their poem, so it would look like the pilgrim was holding the poem.

I put the following instructions on the board:

1. Copy the poem.
2. Color your pilgrim.
3. Cut out your pilgrim.
4. Glue the pilgrim to your poem.

But, I teach second grade. So these instructions were still a little tiny bit confusing for some of my kids. After about 20 minutes, I reviewed the instructions again by reading them out loud.

I was just saying ".....so in the end, after you've glued the pilgrim to your poem - " when my cute D exclaimed, "What? Pilgrim? I thought this was a leprechaun."

I looked over at his desk, and, sure enough, he had colored in his pilgrim just like a leprechaun.

PS: This is amusing to you too, right? I don't just think this is funny because it's my class and I love them, right? I just want to know that this is not like when new moms post pictures and Facebook statuses about their newborn's poop. This is funny in the real world too, isn't it?

If not, here's something that I know for sure is actually funny to more than just me:

I don't know why I still laugh so hard every time I see this picture....but I do.

Lumberjacks

Some people put up fake Christmas trees. Some people put up real Christmas trees. I'm not saying that one is better than the other.....but let's be honest. Real Christmas trees are better than fake ones.

Some people buy real Christmas trees from a lot. Some people chop down their real Christmas tree. Again, I'm not saying that chopping down your own Christmas tree makes you better than other people. But it might. 

This weekend, Kailyn, Caitlin, the Jew, Erin and I ventured over to the far corners of Utah:

That's right. We went to Richfield, Utah.

One-stoplight-town, Farmville, home-on-the-range, we're-from-the-country-and-we-like-it-that-way, Richfield. We made a brief stop at this place:

"Are we going there someday?" "I don't know, you tell me...."

Once we were done there, nothing could stop us from getting to Kailyn's beautiful home! Except for the one stop sign in the town. We met her family, talked up one of our friends to make a good impression on Kailyn's family in his absence, and then took a nap, all of us piled on Kailyn's bed.

When we woke up, something was different. We didn't have facial hair or rough, callused hands, but an unmistakable change had taken place: our nap had turned us into lumberjacks.

There were about 8 trucks in the driveway - Kailyn's family believes in trucks - so we all climbed in and struck out for the mountains.  First, the trucks did the hiking. Eventually, we had to get out and do the rest of the hiking ourselves. K-Mom gave us one piece of advice: "When you bring the tree back to the truck, you'll want to carry it down the mountain, not up the mountain. So go uphill to find it."

Our tree was living in a little patch of ankle-deep snow when we found him. He smiled at us with his soft, sage-colored needles, and even though he was a little bit balding on one side, we felt in our hearts that he was our tree. (Or maybe it was just getting dark and we weren't sure how long it was going to take to chop him down or if we would be able to find another one if we left him.....)

Lumberjacks have riveting conversations while they chop. Here's what ours sounded like:

"Hold that pose, can you just wait there a second?" "Wait the lighting was weird! Take it again." "Why do I have an alien head?" "Now you two together. Smile!" "Are you still holding onto the tree? Because it's probably going to fall soon...." "Did you ever txt him back?" "Perfect! I love this one!" "Can that please not go on facebook?"

In case you couldn't tell, at least 3 of us were on our phones or cameras at any given time.

Sawing down the tree was one thing; getting it down the mountain was a whole 'nother task. A mother of a nother task. Gravity swung on by to help us, but it still took all of our Kailyn and Caitlin and Erin's strength and muscles to bring it to Kailyn's brothers. Then it took about 1/18th of their strength to hoist it off the ground and carry it on their shoulders to the truck.

So what did I learn from all this?

Sometimes, boys are like trees. And you have to climb a mountain to find one that you like. And sometimes, he is a little bit balding on one side, or his needles are a little poiky, or he's stuck in the spot where you found him, on account of his roots or whatever.

Sometimes, you need your friends to help you saw down the tree that you want. Wing-girls are so necessary.

Sometimes, you kind of love the tree the moment you see it. But then you still have to cut it down and find a way to get it back to your apartment.

Sometimes, trees look a lot taller when they are laying in the snow than they do when they are standing in the snow. Sometimes, you notice the same thing about boys.

Sometimes, you see all these people coming down the mountain with their trees, and you think how easy it must have been for them to just pluck their tree from the side of the road. But sometimes you're wrong, because probably they didn't pluck their tree or their boy from the side of the road, and probably they had to go through the same process that you did.

Sometimes, there's a tree that really freakin' wants to be your tree, but he takes his sweet time coming down the mountain and puts up such a fuss about it that you almost leave him there on the dead log that he's hanging onto. But then you don't, because he really is the most beautiful tree you've ever seen, and besides that he is really good company, and you like it when he txts you and comes over and even when he eats your food, so whatever. You'll drag him down the mountain even if it kills annoys you, because let's be honest: the chances that he'll end up flying off the truck on the way back to Provo are looking pretty slim, and you honestly believe that one day he will look beautiful, all decked out in lights and ornaments and popcorn in your apartment, and you'll forget about the sap and the splinters and the bruises, and it will all be worth your stupid day month as a lumberjack.

Here we are putting up our beautiful Teddy:

Cute bum, where ya from?

And here he is, all lit up and beautiful:

Meeting the Parents

There was this one time when Ashton Kutcher went to meet his fiancee's parents, and it went horribly. He was a really nice boy, but Bernie Mac just did not think he was suitable marriage material for his daughter, and he took every opportunity to make that abundantly clear.

While this concept made for a movie that I found very funny, it is a concept that hits all too close to home for some people. Namely, 90% of the male population. Boys get nervous about meeting girls' parents, just as a general rule. Dads are overprotective, moms are picky and fastidious, and the fear is that, no matter what you do, they are not going to like you.

It's easier to be a girl and meet a boy's parents, at least in my experience. Dads are generally easy to please - if you are not a troll, they feel all proud of their son and they like you. Moms like you as long as you are not a hooker. Bonus points are always awarded if you are good with kids or can hold a conversation.

So keeping all of this in mind, and remembering that I am a girl, it should not be too surprising that meeting parents is not something that has ever really bothered me.

.......Until now. Tomorrow and Wednesday, hordes of parents will be descending upon my school for Parent-Teacher Conferences. They all want to meet me and ask me how their child is doing. And I am not particularly looking forward to it. In fact, if I'm being honest, I'm dreading it.

I just really don't want any of them to go all Ashley's sister on me. I have an entire year to convince my kids that I'm nice and they should like me. I only have 15 minutes with their parents.

Wish me luck??

An Attitude of Gratitude

Of course, I am thankful for all the typical things: family, friends, food, the gospel, America, etc. Here's what I am thankful for besides those things:

- roommates who understand that my love languages are food and good parking spots

- boys who have 8-packs

- the Park City outlets

- that the one time I ran into an ex, he didn't know about it

- .....and he looked bad anyways

- 4-hour naps on Sunday - these are so essential to my happiness



- my sisters and their blogs

- the Draper temple

It is beautiful inside, seriously beautiful.

- that one time my mom dropped Crisco on Nicole's foot

- that other time when Nicole said, all nurturingly, "Jacob. When I was your age, I had e-coli." And Jacob replied, "What? Whose poop did you eat?"

- that time when Julie was squinting at the menu at Disney World and this employee came along and kindly handed her a menu in Spanish

- all the times when we have started singing at the table, quietly, and then Nicole has joined in, a little louder, so the rest of us have stopped singing, and my dad has looked up from his meal and gotten upset at Nicole

- the mental image I have in my head of Nicole in seminary

- Antoine Dodson....I know this was like 2 years ago but I still want to thank that guy for the hours of entertainment he has provided me with

- that I know how to make frittatas, lemon glaze, meatballs, parmesan broccoli, paper snowflakes, Hootenanny pancakes, and a plethora of other things

- that my roommates can make even more things

- that I don't have a unibrow

- Cassidy Jane Carbaby

- that one time when my dad started singing about a lemon tree at the dinner table

- that one of my students came in on Friday and gave me a piece of paper with a note that said: "Miss Connor you are the best teacher thanks for being my teacher see you after school!" and had a purple jolly rancher taped to it

- Owen Wilson

I don't know what it is, but I love him. And I am indeed thankful for him. 

Love Me

For the art center this week, I've cut out a bunch of colorful feathers on which my students are supposed to write things they are grateful for. Today, I was going through, taping them on the turkey and reading what everyone was grateful for.

There were the typical answers: family, dad, Earth, my teacher, food, school, etc. And then I came across this one:

"Don't eat me!"

and this one:

"Love me!"

I think it's fair to say that C didn't quite understand the assignment.....but I put his feathers on the turkey anyway. You know why? Because turkeys need love, just like everybody else. If I could, I would put a feather just like that one on Selena Gomez, and another one on Justin Bieber.

Because I just need to say that I heard (2 days after the fact!) that Justin Bieber and Selena Gomez are, in fact, broken up.

Why would you ever break this up??

What??  Just because Emily and Jef did it, that doesn't mean it's cool!

I am more upset about this than the logical part of me really thinks is reasonable. I take these things pretty personally.

As in, I am still not quite over the fact that Ryan Phillipe cheated on Reese Witherspoon, what, 10 years ago?

And she is all happily remarried and he's still a sub-par actor whose fame probably peaked with the notoriety of his infidelity, so Reese clearly won and I clearly shouldn't still be upset about it, but whatever. 

If JP and Ashley try to follow this trend I swear I will take a personal day about it.

But you know who I'm not upset about?

Whatever.

Christopher....bye.

While preparing a social studies lesson for tomorrow, I had a bit of a crisis. So of course, I went to the smartest man I know: my dad.

Via google chat, I said:

     me:  dad

   did christopher columbus not really find america?

   did he just go to haiti and cuba?

   did amerigo vespucci discover america?

He responded:

 Sid:  that's right ...

To which I said:

 me:  dang it

i've been so deceived

And then this little cyber-barb appeared on my screen:

 Sid:  i am in a meeting and what you are writing is being displayed for the whole world to see


You know I felt just fantastic about that. I think I turned pink as I pictured all the suits tilting their heads slightly to read what I had typed, and then glaring as the ignorance of it all settled into their minds. I pictured my dad getting all flustered and trying to ex out of our conversation before any more damage could be done. I pictured my latest message popping up insistently, clamoring for a spot on the screen.

It took me a good three minutes to come up with this response:

me: sorry

good thing you knew the answer or this would have been really embarrassing

God bless the public school system. Just, bless it.

Unsolicited Life Advice

If you aren't really interested in some life advice, you should teach second grade. These kiddos give me advice I wasn't looking for all the time. It's probably partially my fault for telling them all about my life.

Sometimes I feel like my class consists of about 20 of these.

Here's some advice I got when.....

- I told them I was allowed to wear jeans the next day: "Make sure you wear skinny jeans." Wait, when did I switch to teaching 6th grade?

- I told them I didn't know what to be for Halloween: "You should be a teenager. Cuz that's what you look like anyway." Well, thanks. 'Preciate that.

- I told them I was going to buy a car: "You should get a nice one. Like a Bugatti." Maybe if I had chosen a different career.....

- I told them I wanted to make math a little funner: "All you need to do is bring us candy. Like, a big huge bag for each of us. That would be reallllllyy fun." Let's consider the resulting sugar rush.....not fun for me!

- I told them that the dress I was wearing belonged to my roommate: "You better start wearing your own stuff. She could poison your food, you know."

And today's piece of advice, which came when I was standing innocently around, signing assignment sheets after having said nothing about any boys all day:

K: You should get married.
me: Oh, really? Why?
K: Because you're a teenager.
me: I'm not a teenager!
K: Oh, then you should for sure get married.   . . . . . . . tomorrow.
me: Tomorrow?? But why?
K: Because you're a grown-up.
me: Okay, well I'll work on that then....
C: Yeah! Then there can be two Mrs. Connors!
*Pause*
C: Wait.....
A: Well, you don't have to get married exactly tomorrow.
K: But by Thanksgiving at least.
A: Maybe go on some dates first.
K: No, she's already been on some dates. So now you can get married.
A: But maybe a few more dates would be good?
K: She doesn't need to go on more dates. She just needs to get engaged, then married. Boom.
me: I think your mom is waiting for you....

Who knew there were so many things I never knew?

Back off, Brutus

So on Wednesday this week, I wore a short-sleeved shirt. Not because I didn't have to leave my house, but because it was a beautiful day outside.

On Friday this week, I wore pants and a sweater and a coat and I am sad to say that I still turned into a Popsicle. And it's all because Brutus came to town.

Did you know that snow storms get names? The one that rolled through Utah on Friday was named Brutus. He came along and dumped on Cassidy Jane Carbaby while I sat in my school, organizing and printing and copying and cutting and gluing and rearranging and eating a free donut (or 2) and remembering that I love that little place that I work at.

By 11 in the morning, the ground and Cassidy Jane Carbaby were covered in 7 inches of snow. During lunch, I was sitting at lunch with my team and Heidi, the new practicum student, when Sherri came in and told Heidi that she could leave as soon as lunch was over to try and get home before the snow got too bad. Of course this immediately made me panic. I said something like:

"Wait! What! Guys! I don't know how to drive in the snow!"

They assured me that it was fine. I began to feel better. Then I told them that I have never really driven in snow. They encouraged me to leave and get home as soon as possible and asked if Cassidy Jane Carbaby has four-wheel drive. I panicked again because no, she does not. And no one was telling me that I would be fine any more.

"I just got my oil changed?" I said hopefully.

Apparently that doesn't help with driving in the snow....but I must have done something right, because I got home all in one piece! Cassidy Jane is a trooper.

PS: I found this little gem the other day.....

I hope you enjoy it as much as Philip did :)

...and world peace.

So, I just counted, and I have lived with 26 different roommates so far. If you want to count my two weeks at EFY over the summer, I've lived with 29. And I have loved every one of them - some much less than others, but still.

Anyway, in all my vast experience, I am happy to announce that I have discovered the key to peace, love, and happiness in the roommate-dom.

The key is: communication. The rules of communication are:

1. Do it. Say things like, "How was your day?"

Freshman year

2. Communicate about boys. That means you
a. tell your roommates who you like, and
b. when that boy kisses you, you tell your roommates.
c. And you show with your hands what happened.
d. And you put ice cream in the freezer about it.
e. And if a boy ever sends you a txt that just says: "Put ya up against the wall!," you better believe you are sharing that with your roommates.

Fall / Winter 2009 - 2010

3. Say things that you like about each other. That doesn't mean you have to say "I liked when your legs were on me last night," necessarily, but you get the idea.

Fall 2010

4. Along with that, you communicate what you like about your roommates to other people. So if your roommate is looking particularly foxy, feel free to inform her boyfriend.

Winter 2011

5. Say things that you don't like about each other. This might sound counter-intuitive, but if you don't say things that are bugging you, those things will just build up and fester in your brain, and pretty soon you will be following rules #3 and #4 through gritted teeth. Here are some examples of successful inter-apartment communications of flaws:
 
"Could you talk like a mute person please?"

"Who left this rib bone on the counter, HEATHER?"

"No offense but you're cheap."

"No offense, but if you use that baby voice one more time, I'm going to kill you."

Fall 2011

 H: I like that shirt, I've never seen you wear it!
K: That's what Shannon said, but I've worn it many times.
H: Really? I'm pretty sure you've never worn it....
K: I've worn it a lot!
H: Maybe in high school, when we didn't know you. *Pause* Or in middle school, when it would have been cool.....

A: Do my eyes look pretty -
C: NO!
A: ....Oh. Okay. I'll just take that as....constructive criticism?

"You have to be careful that you don't get diabetes."

Present day

C: I am going to get obese.
K: And then you will lose a friend.

"Right after I called on you to pray, I regretted it instantly."

K: I don't want to be rude, but will you please not sing along? I just....it's my first time watching and I want to understand what they're saying.
H: You can't understand me singing?
K: No....I can....I just, can you not sing?

I could go on. But I think you get the point: my roommates and I are happy, and it is all because of our great communication.

Other factors contributing to our happiness:

- one roommate randomly brings home Jamba Juice on occasion
- we feed each other numminess
- we have pillow talk
- we stand in parking spaces for each other
- we go to the temple together
- we have roommate photo shoots
- we laugh at each other
- we write indecent news on the white board
- we make pig noises at each other to prevent obesity
- we run stairs together
- we do each other's homeworks
- well, not really....
- we do hardcore parkour
- we dress up together
- we do each other's hairs and nails

but these are just some fun little things that you can do on the side, once you've mastered communication. It's not so hard. It's just a matter of saying what you think :) 

Happy communicating!