Teachers Be Like...

I love the beginning of the year. Sure, it's sad to say goodbye to summer. Goodbye to books, my couch, and lounging around at the pool all day. Hello to alarms, drinking copious amounts of coffee, and lots and lots of paperwork. The beginning of the year is still so magical. New kids, new clothes, new supplies. It's like Christmas for me. (I really love new crayons. Crayola only, kthnx.)

The end of the year, contrary to popular belief, is not my favorite. Here are a few reasons why:

Beginning of the year: Supplies are plentiful! I have so many supplies I'm practically giving them away. You need tissues? I've got you covered. Glue sticks? Take mine! What? You need paper? Here, what's mine is yours!

End of the year: If the Hunger Games were real they would take place in my classroom and it would be a fight to the death over the last glue stick. Or the pencil with *gasp* the eraser still attached to it. Seriously, why do you pull the erasers off, kids? You're ridiculous. The last Expo marker. These things really happen, okay? I just can't figure out how. How did we go from "You need to keep at least three pencils in your box!" to "You'd better get that one up off the floor if you plan on writing today, pal", it just happens.

"That glue stick is mine, Peeta!" 

Kids, man.

Beginning of the year: Sleep. I love sleep. At the beginning of the year I try my best to go to bed at a decent hour and be on time for work. It's important for a teacher to feel refreshed when she has to deal with hellions students eight hours a day and to be prepared for the day ahead.

End of the year: Now, not only is it difficult to fall asleep, it's hard to get up, too. Like, I have so much to do but instead of grading papers I'm staying up reading because reading is always my top priority. (Always.) It's a vicious cycle, y'all. Go to bed late, get up late, traffic...and of course: coffee.

Beginning of the year: Oh, one cup will do.

End of the year: Can you overdose on coffee?

One cup is never enough. 

Beginning of the year: Always look your best! Shower everyday! Wear makeup! (Kids like it when they think you're pretty.)

End of the year: Nope. 

What? Is there something on my face? 

These things are partly true, because the end of the year is stressful and there are a lot of things going on in everyone's heads. I mean, hopefully. What's killing me the most of how much my kids get me, how I get them, and how I'm really, actually, totally going to miss them next year. They are quirky and smart and adorable. They are a thorn in my side and a piece of my cold, cold heart. (Kidding, it's warm.) It is taking all I have to be my best for the next couple of weeks, just for them. Because they are worth it. This has been my best year, Lucky Number Seven, and I'm sad it's over.

Finish strong, right?

My favorite version of "Eye of the Tiger". 

Nine days and counting, guys.

Kids. Are. Awesome.

Teaching is hard. Yeah, I’ve said that a million times (hyperbole) in these little posts but sometimes even I forget how true it is. There are so many things that we have to do for the job that sometimes we forget what the job is about: kids.

Lately things have been a whirlwind of testing, meetings, observations, and paperwork. Those things don’t matter, though. Not really. Okay, they matter in terms of staying organized, keeping policy, being prepared, and, of course, doing your job.

I love kids. I love them in a completely non-creepy-oh-they’re-so-cute kind of way, all right? Of course, just because you like kids doesn’t mean you should become a teacher. You become a teacher because you like kids, learning, and being poor. (HAHAHAHA!)

I’m mostly kidding, I do that a lot. However, I do feel (and know) that there is more to teaching than just loving kids. Teaching is a calling. Teaching is not something to be taken lightly. Those who can’t, do not teach. But that calling, that need to make a difference, to continue your own learning every single day…that is fueled by the kids.

Kids. Are. Awesome.

They are tiny little sponges soaking up the knowledge that you have to give them. And, hopefully, you’ve got some. Kids are amazing, resilient little creatures that give you their heart and soul.

Yeah, you. Kids are the most honest things in all the world. Not only do they tell you everything that is wrong about you, but they tell you what’s wrong with them. Sure, it’s not always in a language you understand, but if it were would teaching be so easy?

Oh, hell no.

The ones that need love the most show us in the most unloving ways, right? I can’t tell you how true this is. (Literally, I can’t tell you because I’m sure it’s not allowed or something.) I’ve seen, heard, and lived through so many situations that are absolutely heartbreaking. Kids these days go through things that I could never dream of or wish on my worst enemy (okay, maybe this one person…), but they make it through. They make it through because of people who care. People (hopefully) like teachers.

Teaching is the best job. It’s the best and the hardest, because being a superhero is hard! Our capes are nametags and Expo marker smudges and leftover Peeps in plastic baggies because a kid really likes you. (True story.)

We have to wear our hearts on our sleeves and put on our mean faces and loud voices sometimes, but that’s just how it is! That’s the beauty of teaching. You get to be the good guy and the bad guy! The superhero and the villian! Captain America and the Winter Soldier!

Have you seen this yet? You should. And take me with you.

I might complain about my job: the long hours, the grading, the chatty kiddos…but I love it. There is not one thing in the world I would rather be doing. Okay, unless you read my Facebook status this morning about missing my couch and my books, WHATEVER.

I love my job, and I hope you do, too. I hope you love your kids even when you’ve got on your angry face, even when you’re using your loud voice, even when you’re up to your eyeballs in papers to grade. Because if you love them through all of that, it makes a difference.

You make a difference.

And I like you.

Here’s a fun little kid tidbit from last week:

Boy to girl sitting being him: “Hey, stay away from my butt. I just farted.”

I hope they always make you smile. 

Where's My Spoiler Alert?

Did you ever read a book or see a movie and wish that someone would have told you the “big surprise” about it, or is that just me? I don’t like to be surprised. It's something that I've dealt with since I was a small child, and I just don't like it. I don't like things jumping out at me, I don't like not knowing the end of something, or whats' going to happen. I just don't like it. It takes almost every fiber of my being not to read the end of books when I get a new one. I’m guilty of googling spoilers to movies (sometimes in the theaters) just so I’m not surprised. I don’t like surprises, okay?

Some things can’t be googled, though. Some things you have to find out for yourself, or even wish that someone would clue you in. For example: why doesn’t anyone warn you about what happens when you turn thirty? It is really like that adorable Jennifer Garner movie 13 Going on 30?

Spoiler alert: IT’S NOT.

Here’s why:

Things start to hurt. By “things” I mean body parts. And by “body parts” I mean Hey, did my knees always make that noise when I got out of bed? Guess what? No, no they didn’t. I’m pretty sure that thirty is the age in which your body has had enough and starts to deteriorate. Back aches, muscle pains, head aches, heartburn. I mean, honestly. You’ve gone thirty years in the same body and it’s (hopefully) got all of its originally parts and now it starts to fall apart? How lame.

You literally lose your mind. When I turned thirty I started a blog, started running, and got a tattoo. Maybe that’s not as crazy as quitting your job and moving to some far off place to start a brand new life, but that doesn’t mean I haven’t thought about it! To me, thirty is a weird age. You’re not old enough to start worrying about the big stuff and you’re not young enough to get all wild and crazy without looking like a fool. So, what happens? You can’t decide what you want to do and lose your damn mind.

Hangovers. Look. I partied a lot in my younger days. I could hang with the best of them. There were nights when I was pretty sure my liver would have physically removed itself from my body to be free of me (too much?), but now that I’m old? Psssh. First of all, I’m too tired to drink, let alone “party”. And, second of all, when I do “party” it takes days, days to recover. (Please note that when I say “party” I mean have two beers and go to bed after 10PM.)  I used to just be able to grab a McDonald’s breakfast sandwich and chug a Dr. Pepper and all would be just fine. These days there are things that even bacon can’t cure and that scares me.

I’m very tired. Maybe it’s just because I work a lot. Or maybe it’s the fact that turning thirty means you need more sleep than a person that’s…twenty-nine. I swear I didn’t need this much sleep when I was just a wee twenty-nine year old. (Please note: I also do not have children and, yes, I’m complaining about sleep. It’s my blog and I do what I want to.)

Everything you liked you now hate. I’ve basically cleaned out my closet a million times since I’ve turned thirty. I clean out my iTunes, my DVD collection, my classroom, my books (precioussssss). I’m older. More sophisticated. Less Old Navy t-shirts, more LOFT t-shirts! Less boybands, more bands with men who play instruments (BANJOS)! Less books about magical crap…no, I still like that. ;)

Just kidding, I still like most of this stuff. I always regret a clean out. Earlier this week I attempted to clean out my “ironic t-shirt collection”. I ended up getting rid of four shirts. Then I went back into the donation bag and took two of them back. Look, the majority of my shirts are either Harry Potter or Captain America themed and they are awesome. So, not all of your tastes change.

Save the drama for your llama. I’m thirty and I’m over it.

You are, very simply, more awesome. Thirty, flirty, and thriving, right? That’s what people kept telling when I was going through my turning thirty depression. But, really, thirty is pretty cool. You’re thirty years wiser. Thirty years more sturdy. Thirty years of experience for a colleague or friend or kid (if you’ve procreated by the time you hit thirty). Thirty years more awesome.

It’s taken me a while to come to grips with how awesome thirty is, but I kind of like it. Of course, in a few short months I’ll be saying goodbye to thirty. I’ll no longer just be thirty. I’ll be in my thirties.

I probably will lose my mind then. 

PS - I turned thirty a while ago. Another thing? THIRTY MAKES YOU FORGET THINGS. 

The Truth (About Teaching)

I love my job. I say that a lot when I do posts like this, but you have to know it's true. Those cute little kids and all the fun things we do and all those crazy people I work with. Yeah, it's awesome.

BUT! There are some things they just don't teach in school. Some things that the universities and colleges don't seem to have in their budgets to inform those budding teachers about. Here are some of those things.

You work all the time. Like, really. You might be scheduled from 7:30-3:30, but that doesn't always mean you leave on time. If you are one of those people that leave on time, more power to you. I spend more time at work then I do at home, but that's okay. Actually, I work at home, too. So, yeah, you work all the time.

Literally. No one has ever said this. Ever.

Train your bladder. You might not think that going to the bathroom is a big deal or that important to think about when pondering a career in teaching. You never get to pee. Well, that's not exactly true. You can pee when the bell rings, at lunch time, and during your specials. But what if you drink a lot of coffee or try to stay hydrated, huh? THEN WHAT? Then you better make friends with your neighbor because they're all you've got during instruction time.

Paper work. The trees. Teachers killed them all.

Politics. 

Heh. 

Be flexible (and manage well). It's been a while since I've been in school, but I just don't remember talking or learning about being flexible. There's so much planning and practicing lessons, that I think professors forget that kids. Kids ruin all your awesome lessons, man. Think about it for a hot minute. You're on a roll. Kids are engaged, they're raising their hands, answering questions, being nice to each other...and then it happens. It can be anything, really. There can be a spider on the floor, you can trip over your own feet, someone falls out of their chair, or, God forbid, someone farts or something else involved with bodily functions and/or fluids. Point is, no lesson is perfect. You'll be okay. 

Truest story.

Bodily fluids.I mean, while we're on the subject of farting and things...snot, pee, spit...yeah, you're going to see it. Kids put things in their mouths. They sneeze and don't cover it up. Sometimes they pee their pants. (They haven't trained their bladders like you have, okay?) True story: one week I dealt with three accidents. I was not amused. 

Kids are different. Okay, they actually do talk about this one at school, BUT WOW ARE KIDS DIFFERENT. Your class is a melting pot of little minds. It's crazy. Some of them know more than others and some of them know more than YOU. And you get to teach them all, isn't that great? (Yes.)

Parents. Y'all. There seriously needs to be a class about how to deal with parents. Sometimes it very, very difficult. (Because they get very, very crazy.)

Meetings. Basically I'm tired of seeing all of your faces. 

Grades. Who needs 'em? 

So, there are a few things that school doesn't prepare you for. Mostly they're silly and fun, but some of them are true. Teaching is, as I always say, the best job in the world. There are tough times, but the good always outweigh the bad. Even the paperwork and meeting part of the job. I promise. 

Thanks to Kasey, Shawna, Samantha, Mallory, Sarah, Nikki, Stephanie, and Michelle for answering a totally random text and giving me the ideas for this dumb little post. You guys are my favorite. Duh. 

I should probably go do lesson plans or something now, huh? 

XOXO, 

Ashley 

Do Something

There are some days that I feel completely uninspired. Days where I don’t want to leave the couch because that would require effort and movement and doing something.  See, I don’t always like doing things but I’ve found in my old age (THIRTY, man) that doing things makes me…happy.

I like to do things for myself a lot: reading, shopping, running, and movies. Those things are all well good but what I really mean by doing something is doing something for someone else. That’s when I’m at my most inspired.

When I traveled to Guatemala in 2012 it changed my life. That was the first time I really felt that I did something. Of course, spending ten days in a foreign country with only five days of clean clothes will do that to a person. I’m mostly kidding, because once you’re there, working with those amazing people, and seeing their smiling faces because they’re so happy you’re there…it doesn’t matter that you’ve been wearing the same t-shirt for two days.

Worth it. 

That’s what I mean, though. That’s the something you should do. Now, I don’t really mean you should hop a plane to a third-world country (unless you want). That’s a huge something that takes a lot of planning and, you know, money. It was seriously awesome, though.

I climbed a volcano.  Also worth it.

There are so many little things that you can do that can totally change someone’s day: buying them coffee, writing a note, a phone call, a text, even a smile could do that. It’s kind of amazing the way that works sometimes. Also, it’s a little crazy the way one small little gesture works.

If you’re thinking this is turning into a Pay it Forward kind of thing, it is. You want to know why?

Because it’s so easy.

Saying ‘good morning’ or smiling or even waving to someone is the simplest thing you can do. Sure, there are situations where that is pretty difficult, but even in traffic when someone has totally ticked me off I wave and mutter “Jesus loves you” under my breath. Okay, maybe that isn’t really doing something…but it makes me feel better and I don’t swear at idiot drivers.

Doing things and being kind to others is the most important thing we can do for people, in my opinion. Maybe I don’t always do something in the way I’m supposed to, but I try. I try in my classroom with my students, because heaven only knows what one little positive thing will do for them sometimes. I try with people even though sometimes you might think I’m bitchy, but that’s okay. (Just know that I won’t be doing nice things for you anytime soon.)

Imagine what it would be like if we were actually able to do good all the time, to have people see that good, and to pass it on?

Newsflash: IT WOULD BE AWESOME.

I love good things. Good words, good books, good runs, good friends, good drinks, good deeds. If you know me or read this crappy little blog you know I love good.

So, go do some good. Do a nice thing for a friend. For a coworker.

Just do something. 

True Story: Books Ruined My Life

This is the true story of how books ruined my life.

You think I’m joking. Well, I’m not. Books are life-ruiners and it’s about time someone stood up to them. (Or ranted about them a little, whatever.)

I started reading at an early age: letters and sight words and little books. I’m kind of smart that way. Of course, I’m really dumb in other ways, so the reading thing makes up for it, yeah?

My earliest obsession with books started simple enough: Baby-Sitter’s Club Little Sister series and Sweet Valley Twins. Eventually I graduated into the older versions of these series and continued the obsession. Seriously, though. Who didn’t want to be a Wakefield twin growing up? I always favored Elizabeth (Jessica was a flake). And I totally wanted to start my own babysitting club, too. For the record, Mary Anne was my favorite babysitter. She was quiet and nerdy and hey, so was I.  

Don't they just scream "cool"?  

My problem with books started early, obviously. When I was growing up the closest Walmart was an hour or so. I would beg my mom to buy me a book. Not a toy or a new Barbie, a book! So, she’d buy me the book. Then I’d make my parents leave the light in the car on so I could read the book on our way home. I didn’t care if they “couldn’t see” while driving, I needed to read.

I was usually finished with the book by the time we got home. We had that place called a “library”, but renting books really wasn’t my thing. Truth is, it still isn’t. I like to buy and keep. If it’s something I don’t like I usually donate it or take my chances with the used bookstore and earn some credit to buy, you guessed it, more books.

#1 way books ruin my life? They cost money.

#2 way? I don’t have enough money to buy all the books I want.

But I digress. This really isn’t about money or not having enough books. It’s about loving, or loathing, the ones you have.

This weekend I spent a lot of time facedown in the couch because of all my feelings.

#3 way books ruin my life? ALL THE FEELINGS. (Or FEELS.)

Look, if you’re reading this and think I’m weird, that’s okay. Books make me weird. Books make me weird because books make me think and thinking…man, thinking does stuff. The feelings are intense, though. I’ve read so many books in the past few years that sometimes it’s hard to explain what one is about or just exactly why I loved/hated something. There are always that few that stick with you forever, though.

Those are the life-ruiners. I can tell you at exactly which point I lost it Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. Only JK Rowling can make you cry with the use of the word “laugh”. Or rather, “last laugh”. (RIP, Fred.) I know the one phrase in The Fault in Our Stars that still gets me teary even though I have yet to bring myself to reread that beautiful piece of words.  

Good books, books that tell about life and relationships and make you a part of that world without even trying…those are the best kind. The ones above are just a couple of the ones that have cut my heart out in the recent past. Also, anything else by John Green can be including. To me he's the #1 Life-Ruiner Ever. I read a lot, okay. Sometimes Kindle .99 cent deals, sometimes the classics. To me, if you think it's good, it's good. If you love the characters and you love the story, that's all there is to it. 

Yep.

Of course, then there’s books like Gone Girl that make you hate every single character and you wouldn’t even care if the earth opened up and they all died. (Secret: Sometimes I feel like this about the Twilight series even though I once loved it so much. Okay, except for Leah. She’s cool.)

But yeah, man. Books. Books are my weakness. When people can put words together to make you fall in love or hate or hope or cry…it’s like magic, you know? It’s magic that people have the guts and the capability to just create people, places, and things and make you love them. That’s how I feel about books. I love them. Okay, I loathe them sometimes, too. Especially when I end up with a tear-stained couch and three days of my life I”ll never get back. 

Also things that are life-ruiners: book to movie adaptions. DON'T EVEN GET ME STARTED. 

Use Your Words (Wisely)

I really love words. That might not come as a surprise to anyone, but I’ve been thinking about my relationship with words for a few days now. We’re pretty committed to each other, you see. Words and I get along really well. I love to read them, write them, speak them, sing them, and listen to them. Words do their part for me, too. They can heal, encourage, entertain, and comfort.

Words are powerful.

I think sometimes we forget how powerful they are, because sometimes words do other things like: hurt, embarrass, and discourage others.

In my classroom one of our rules is Use kind words. It sounds pretty simple but often times it’s the hardest rule to follow. For example, this week (three days of school, mind you) I heard a lot of:

“He said I was mean!”

“He doesn’t want to be my partner.”

“They aren’t being fair!”

Yeah, that sound you hear is me banging my head against the wall whilst comforting small children. I love my job.

It’s just crazy that we can choose to use words so flippantly and think that they don’t matter. That because they’re just words, they don’t hurt as much. Words are our most powerful weapons if you ask me. I always think about when students might hit or cause physical harm to another because they’ve gotten their feelings hurt or something didn’t go their way. The automatic response is: “Use your words!” But, man…those can hurt, too.

As a teacher one of my biggest challenges is finding the “right” words to discipline, encourage, teach, and all those other things I do that escape me at the moment. And sometimes it’s really, really tough. It’s tough to have to think about things before they come flying out of your mouth. Personally that’s always been a probably for me. When I was younger I’d just spit out useless facts or stupid stories that would only embarrass me because people look at you like you’ve got five heads. I can’t help it, though. I already told you: I love words. 

Okay, scratch that. I love good words. I love words that encourage and tell stories, which share feelings and give hope. Those are the kind of words I love. Those are the kinds of words I’m going to focus on this year. I don’t want to focus on words that hurt or break down friendships, relationships (personal and professional), or other people. I hope you don’t want to either…*hinthint*.

My life group leaders were recently telling our group about a self-help guru on some morning show who had decided to choose a word and live by it for 2014. It’s an interesting idea. Pick a word and focus on it. Put it in every aspect of your life. To me, that’s one way that words can be powerful in a good way.

I chose the word peace. I want peace in every aspect of my life. Peace in all my relationships, in my job, in my classroom, and in my heart.

Peace out,

Ash