Hail to the Victors Valiant

It happened. I can't believe it, but it happened: I have a job for this school year!!! I will be returning to the home of the mighty wildcats, Mt. Spokane High School, to teach in the social studies department. I think it's junior American history and sophomore world history... I don't know for sure though, I was hyperventilating by the time they got to that small detail (two seconds into the conversation). As we all know, laconism is not my strong suit, but I was speechless. The principal extended the offer, I laughed and said "Are you kidding me?" Oh so eloquent, I know, and I then proceeded to experience a range of emotions from complete euphoria to absolute fear and nausea in about 10 seconds. Three weeks to plan two preps... I can do this, right? That's what these past five years have been for, right?? Yes we can! Or something like that. At least I already know the fight song.

The Good (NOT SO) Old Days

It's happened. While I still may be indistinguishable from my students physically, today is the first time I made what I thought to be a relevant pop culture reference and they looked at me like I was their grandma. I'm teaching critical reading and writing classes at a tutoring center for high school/middle school students this summer. In class today, one of the guys was talking about the Sherlock Holmes book he is reading right now. I immediately thought of Wishbone and asked if anyone else remembered that episode. Their response? "Who's Wishbone?"

I was shocked, appalled, heartbroken. I remember racing home to finish chores and get to the TV before my brothers did every afternoon so I could tune into that spry little pup and enjoy another afternoon of great classic literature. How could an entire generation of students be missing out on this amazing little guy? Feeling obliged to complete their education at that very moment, I grabbed the laptop from my desk and pulled up the Wishbone theme song on YouTube. 

Notice the source? Yeah... RetroJunk.com. They jumped alllll over that. I take issue with two things here: first, Wishbone is NOT junk! And second, I hardly call the mid-90s retro. I call them the glory days.

Drama, Drama, Drama

3. Emo

like a Goth, only much less dark and much more Harry Potter. 

My life sucks, I want to cry.

from urbandictionary.com

Like most couples, the nightly conversations between Sean and I usually begin with, "So, how was your day?" It seems like most nights he rushes through the enthralling accounting of a day in the life of an insurance underwriter to get to my stories. While he usually has some doozies about attempted fraud and general idiocy, I spend my days (and nights at the tutoring center) with teenagers. And we all know what that means: drama, drama, drama. Twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. I've always got a good one. 

 The hardest thing about teaching is learning to pee by the bell. I'm a pretty thirsty person and am used to draining four to five nalgenes within an eight hour period. Well, I'm no longer free to go to the bathroom whenever I want. I've got approximately five minutes every 90 minutes to battle the herds of female students, staff, and faculty to get to the bathroom and back before the bell rings. I can't just take the pass and leave during the class period. The high school I'm student teaching at doesn't have separate facilities for the staff, and you'd be surprised how much you overhear in the bathroom. 

Case in point: Tuesday morning. I stood patiently in the bathroom line stretching out the door. Two girls, both of whom I know from class, crowded in front of a mirror. Both of these girls are good students and very polite. The type of kid you can't really describe any other way but, "She's a really good kid." I wasn't surprised to hear them chattering excitedly, trying to determine the best color description for their t-shirts-- "I think mine is more like a creamsicle colors. Yours? Hmmm... yours would be like wisteria or something, right?" My English teacher heart warmed to hear them playing with word choice and description so enthusiastically. Questions of shirt color settled, out came the requisite makeup and hair accessories. The excitement began anew. In teen jargon, both of these girls would be probably be best classified as "emo." As one girl tried to get her eyeliner exactly right, the other pouted at her hair. She repeatedly pulled her hair in and out of pigtails, all the while consulting with her friend in the same excited tone. Well, as excited as I was about these girls developing strong word choice, they've obviously yet to grasp the concept of creating appropriate tone. The bubbling excitement just didn't match her statement: "I kinda like the pigtails, but the pigtails can kinda be happy. And we are not happy." Her friend nodded emphatically and suggested that instead she pull her bangs (dyed black and chopped bluntly) into her eyes. 

I had to bite my lip and stare at the floor to keep from bursting out laughing. Did we ever take ourselves so very seriously as teenagers??