An open letter to NPR's On the Media

During Brooke Gladstone's piece about changes in the video game industry this weekend, I was shocked and dismayed to hear her use the word "funnest."

As a high school English teacher, I do my best to instill in my students a sense of respect and appreciation for language. Every day, I listen to them complain that the rules I teach them don't "sound right," because they're so used to hearing language used incorrectly. I thought NPR was the last vestige of proper grammar--one of the few places where my students wouldn't receive mixed grammar messages. If that's no longer true, I mourn not only for our language, but also for the poor students trying to learn that "funnest" isn't really a word.

Going dark on Earth Day

Matt and I, along with thousands of other people around the world, observed Earth Hour last month. We enjoyed the gesture (not to mention the peace and quiet) so much, that we've decided to make our home an electricity-free zone for all of Earth Day: no lights, to television or radio, no computers and--to the degree possible--no appliances. We're unplugging (not just turning off, since that still sucks electricity) nearly everything in the house that requires energy. We're going to grill dinner outside and eat lots of ready-to-eat, locally grown fruits and vegetables. We're going to play cards by candlelight instead of zoning out in front of the TV.

It's this last part of our Earth Day celebration that I'm especially looking forward to. Focusing on something bigger than ourselves always seems to bring Matt and me closer together as a family. It seems especially appropriate that we do this on Earth Day, as we work to preserve the Earth for our children and their children and ten generations of children.

"Liquid soap on tap"

Matt and I are gearing up for Earth Day next week (more about our big plans later), and in the process we've discovered this wonderful company that takes environmentalism to a new level. They take old pop bottles and transform them into containers for hand soap, household cleaners and other products. Since the "Three R's" are listed in order of benefit to the environment (first reduce, then reuse, then recycle), I love the idea of reuse on a grand scale. Of course, if I find out that the company ships these bottles 10,000 miles for cleaning and processing, I hereby renege the company's aforementioned environmental wonderfulness.

Be sure to visit the company's website and sign the petition to bring their products to a Target or grocery store near you.

Wordless Wednesday for Tax Day

"Take me out to the ballgame..."

It's baseball season again! I love a good football game or hockey fight as much as the next person, and I played basketball for years, but there's something truly unique and wonderful about baseball. My version of heaven is a double-header on a sunny summer afternoon with plenty of peanuts and lots of cold beer. Matt sent me this map of "The United Countries of Baseball," which is a great representation of Major League Baseball:


It's just a shame that the glorious team from the upper Midwest is only coming to Baltimore for two games this year.

An unintended double entendre

While home during my spring break this week, I've spent some time trying to figure out how to spend the hundreds of Cabela's points I've earned with my Cabela's credit card. Back before we were married, Matt convinced me to get a Cabela's card, assuring me there would be hundreds of things for me to purchase with my points. Since then, he's observed that hardly anything at Cabela's seems to appeal to me and has suggested that a new fishing rod or some men's hiking boots might be a nice way to spend my points. I should have seen this coming.

So after stuggling through page after page of high-waisted pants and embroidered sweaters, I came across this item in the women's clothing section:
I've heard of a "golf widow" or even a "fishing widow," but a "hunting widow" brings with it a double meaning that might explain why the hat was listed for $2.88.

"Doe, a deer..."

Thanks to my darling sister, Cara, for making my day with this video. I don't care if it's likely staged. Even the thought of strangers spontaneously dancing to the music and choreography of The Sound of Music is enough to put a smile on my face.



I'm bringing this same magic to Union Station the next time I go down to D.C.

More little shoes

Not long ago, I posted about one of my favorite stores in Baltimore. I went in last weekend intending only to buy some of their yummy chocolate (they have a white chocolate one with black olives that's to die for), but I came out with another fabulous pair of shoes...along with the chocolate bar.

I've had my eye on this pair since I started going to Ma Petite Shoe, and they were on uber clearance last weekend. At over 80% off, I would have been a fool not to buy them. Welcome to the family, my beautiful new El Naturalistas. You'll like it here.

Why teachers need spring break

One of my dear friends from college, Kimmy, wrote a note not long ago about why teachers need a spring break. Oh, how true. I used to think that week-long breaks and summer vacation were one of the perks of teaching. Now I'm realizing that they're completely essential. To help illustrate this, I thought I'd do a run-down of my typical corporate day contrasted with my typical teaching day:

Corporate Day
Between 8:00 and 8:30 - I arrived at work and settled in to my office. I didn't have to be at work at a set time, and if I was 2 minutes late, no one said anything.
From 8:30 to 9 or 9:30 - I would check email, get caught up on blogs, maybe cruise over to a few entertainment websites to get caught up on celebrity gossip. If it was a dreary Monday like today, coworkers would stop by to ask about my weekend to get caught up.
10:00 - My coworkers stopped by my office for coffee break at this time every day. We meandered our way to the break room, stopping to chat with the receptionist by the front door and other coworkers en route.
10:45 - I would get back to my desk, ready to do a little work while listening to my favorite radio station or CD.
12:30 - Lunch time...for an entire hour
1:30 to about 4:00 - I would get most of my work done in the afternoon and would make a point not to bring any work home. "Leave work at work," I would say. I would spend my evenings with Matt and Barley and honestly forget about the office for a few hours.

School Day
7:00 exactly - I arrive at school, correct random student's language in the hall, greet my student in hallway outside my classroom, waiting to make up last week's vocab quiz. "I thought you said you'd be here at 7:00," he says. "It's 7:02. Will you give me a pass to homeroom if I need it?"
7:30 - The student finishes his quiz, but I still have copies to make for first period. I run (quite literally) down the hall to the copy room, wait in line for the "good" copier, frantically make 80 packets of "Are you positive it's an appositive?" stopping after every 5th packet to remove the phantom paper jam.
7:45 - I arrive in homeroom just as the final bell rings. I turn around to write down the names of those who are tardy and quickly scan the room to see who's absent. I turn on the morning announcements and try to convince them that this information is important. I roll my eyes at the anchor who thinks he's funny and one of my kids notices. Oops.
8:15 - In the middle of first period, I realize I forgot to go to the bathroom. But my throat is already getting dry from all this talking. Through the next two periods, I walk a fine tightrope stretched tightly between my need for the bathroom and my need to talk without coughing on my first row. It's a delicate balance, indeed.
10:30 - I've finally made it to the bathroom, and now it's time for lunch...at 10:30 in the morning. My next period starts at 10:55, so I run (quite literally once again) to the office to sign in and check my mailbox, then back up to my room to grab a granola bar and a swig of juice.
12:45 - Two more periods down, and it's time for my "planning" period. I use these 45 minutes to make more copies, stand in the hallway on patrol ("Take your hood off, please." "Watch your mouth! That's why we study vocabulary." "Put her down. Show a little respect."), and check in with another teacher about a student who has given both of us problems recently. The other teacher tells me that the girl told her she wants to be pregnant. This is hardly a surprise, but is disturbing nonetheless.
1:30 - My last class comes in. This is my favorite group of the day, but even the best students get unruly by the end of the day in the spring. I try to keep them busy, but sometimes the dog and pony show or three-ring circus that they expect from me just isn't enough.
2:15 - The final bell rings, and get caught up on emails from the day, enter grades and sort through the work that needs to be brought home that night. I make one more trip to the office, encounter 3 or 4 more teachers, administrators or guidance counselors in the hall and tell a student to pick up the wrapper she just threw on the floor.
3:00 - I'm heading home with a bag of papers to correct and a flash drive waiting to be filled with inspirational lessons for the next day. By the time I get home (and eat something, since that probably hasn't happened much this time), it's 4:00. I'll spend until 7 or 8:00 correcting papers and preparing for the next day. If I don't go to bed by 9:00, I'm worthless when the alarm goes off at 5:00 the next morning.

Yes, my corporate days were often more hectic, and my school days occasionally have a little more down time, but this really paints a pretty accurate picture. Teaching is like racing to five very important meetings every day. And unlike my corporate meetings where I could show up a few seconds late and I was usually just a meeting attendee, I have to be at least five minutes early to all my meetings and be ready to lead 30 meeting attendees who failed to look over the minutes from our last meeting and who failed to prepare as they were supposed to...and who can't be fired.

"What does 'virgin' mean?"

One of the several projects helping to keep me insane over this last crazy, busy week was a field trip to Washington, DC with about a dozen Chinese exchange students. I always assumed Chinese students were much more respectful and dignified than their American counterparts. I learned this week that children have the potential to be universally unruly.

Aside from stopping every 10 or 15 feet to take pictures of everything (squirrel nests, park benches, souvenir stands), these had to be about the most gluttonous group of people I've ever met. We had a budget of $200 to feed 12 students, and they spent close to $350. Some of them ate pizza and chicken fingers and french fries and a whole chicken, not to mention a few pieces of fruit and bottles of juice for the bus ride home.

The highlight of this day of metaphorically herding Chinese cats, however, was our trip to the World War II Memorial. One girl whose English leaves a great deal to be desired approached another teacher and me near the back of the Memorial. We were standing by the large stones representing the last few U.S. states, as well as the territories. She pointed to one of the stones and said, "What is that?" We explained that each of the large stones represents a state or territory. "No," she replied, increasingly frustrated. "What is that one? Virgin Islands?" We explained further that the U.S. Virgin Islands are a tropical vacation destination in the Caribbean. "No," she sighed, obviously exhausted by our ignorance. "What does 'virgin' mean?" The other teacher and I looked at each other, trying not to laugh, and having a silent conversation as to how to explain the definition of "virgin" to a girl with limited English proficiency at best. "It means pure," I blurted out. "It means pure and untouched." The Chinese girl nodded and appeared to accept that answer. "Ok," she said as she snapped a photo of the "Virgin Islands" stone and walked away. After congratulating each other on how well we dodged her question, we wondered how that girl would use her new-found vocabulary word when she returned to China. "I do not want that spoiled apple. Please give me one that is a virgin."