Can't Stop Smiling

I am an unashamed thrift store shopper. In the past, I've found some incredible deals on brand name clothing that looked new! Lately, I've been meaning to get over to Salvation Army and look for white shoes to wear with my bridesmaid dress for my sister-in-law's wedding.

While I was there, I decided to browse the dress pants section (thinking about school dress code already). I had my eye out for gray pants, but I happened to lift a pair of green corduroys off the rack. I noticed right away that there were American Eagle tags dangling on the side. Obviously brand new and never worn! Salvation Army's tag said $5.99, but since it was a pink tag, it was half off.... They weren't exactly my size, but I tried them on anyway. It wasn't until I was in the dressing room and about to step into the pant legs that I realized that American Eagle's price tag was $34.99.

Hmmm. I was forming a plan: Pay three dollars for the green pants (which didn't fit me) at Salvation Army; return them to American Eagle at the mall for whatever I can get for them without a receipt. The thrift store gets their money; AE gets to resell their merchandise; and I would get store credit. Brilliant! It was a risk considering that AE might not take it back without a receipt, but usually they'll give you the sale price when that happens--gotta be more than three bucks, right?

I took the risk.

When I got to AE at the mall and walked up to the counter, I said: "I'd like to return these, but I don't have a receipt". She narrowed her eyes and looked over the pants. "Which AE store did you get these from?". I told her the truth: "I don't really know". She said, "Well, I can only give you the sale price". (Called it!)

She rang up the pants and looked at her computer screen. There was a long pause where I was hopefully thinking to myself... "Ten bucks? Fifteen? How much?" She finally said: "That'll be $37.05 in store credit"

It was all I could do to stop myself from screaming and clapping right there in the middle of the store!

Crisis Averted

I wasn't planning on going to school this morning, but I did after I received a message from my new colleague saying that she was free today. We'd been meaning to get together and to get to know each other better before the school year started. So I figured I would get more for my gas money and at least continue to set up my classroom while I was in town. (I say "continue" because I spent about six hours on it last week.)

While we were chatting, my new colleague mentioned in passing that the principal wanted to talk to us about our classrooms. Our classrooms?? My room that I've beet setting up exactly the way I want it? The five gigantic bookcases and two heavy file cabinets that I moved all around by myself? The twelve boxes I've already unpacked? IS SHE MOVING ME?? I tried not to erupt into a volcano of panic (after all, she'll have plenty of time to see me stress out during the school year; no need to scare her just yet). I focused instead on asking just what did the principal mean when she said she needed to talk about classrooms?

Apparently, she wants to move our Occupational Therapist out of the music room so that she won't have to work with the choir and band practicing in the background (a decision I applaud). But she wanted to move her into the second Resource Room/Office/My-room-last-year, and move both of us special ed teachers into the same miniature classroom (one third the size of a regular classroom). This decision I did not applaud. The special education teachers that have gone before me in that building had tried that arrangement, and in their words it was "a nightmare".

Fortunately, I was able to talk to our principal today and sort some things out. She asked me if I had a better idea and I did (contrary to all those times when I gripe but have no alternate solution). Why not move the OT into my classroom (the slightly bigger Resource room)? She only works two days a week and I think I have some space to accommodate her. It might be tight, but it will work. Our principal was thrilled; our OT is much happier; and a major nightmare was averted. The End.

Does This Make Me a Nerd?

My very first Masters class is officially over today and I am bitterly disappointed about it. I had really, really enjoyed it. In fact, I am starting to wonder if maybe I like to be educated more than I like to educate. Hm.

There are three more weeks until the onslaught of "professional development" begins, and until then, here is my to-do list. I wish you all a happy to-do list as well!

What if?

Some food for thought:

Is it easier to be an adult with a visible disability (missing limb, cerebral palsy, etc) or with an invisible disability (deafness, high functioning autism, aspergers, ADHD, etc)?

Is it easier to raise a child with a visible or invisible disability?

One mother shares her frustration:

We have twins with autism and we find ourselves always explaining (apologizing) for them because they will shout out the most obvious yet hurtful things to others... such as "what's wrong with your face", "your teeth are dirty", "You're old" They have no filter on them whatsoever. It is a huge struggle because I don't want anybody hurt like I know my sons are hurting. At one point I made shirts that said "We're not rude, we are not ignoring you, we just have autism" but I had a mother come up to me and said that it was inappropriate to make public my sons' medical condition.

It has gotten to a point that as soon as I walk into a public establishment with them I want to take out a blow horn and say "Look everybody, my boys are acting the way that they are acting because they are Autistic."

I took them to Disneyland last year and to all you parents with these very special children you know that the majority of them adore rides because of the tight feeling of the pressure of the ride restraints. But you also know that the majority of them push, pull and flail around why waiting to get on the ride. I had taken papers from our doctor into guest services and they gave us front of the line passes due to their condition. I have to say that I have never been treated so rudely by parents in my life. Every time we used the pass we had people yelling out the rudest, vilest things. Just because my sons were not in wheelchairs people just assumed that we were cutting. We were even pushed a few times. I don't think there is any easy remedy for people’s perception of this handicap.

If only we could all be more accepting of those who are different!

Reality Check

I just stumbled upon a site featuring Britain's Missing Top Model. It's very similar to America's Next Top Model, only in Britain's Missing version, all of the contestants have a physical disability. I watched a very interesting clip on YouTube (warning: girl poses in underwear) which was a thought-provoking nine minutes, worth your time if you have it. The clip brought to mind several questions.

First, can adult women with disabilities be just as catty, jealous, and deceitful as their non-disabled peers? Apparently, yes.

Is deafness any less of a disability just because it's invisible? In the clip, the woman in the wheelchair was very resentful towards the two beautiful deaf women... you'd never know they had a disability just by looking at them. Is that fair? Personally, I think that any type of disability is a true disability if it impairs your ability to function in society. If you can't communicate with 99% of the population unless you have an interpreter constantly at your side, then that should qualify as a disability. I think it's just as much of a disability as someone who can't access a building unless there's a wheelchair ramp available. That's my opinion anyway.

Was it fair to take the interpreter away from the deaf girls for an evening? I don't think so. It's one thing if the girls had decided for themselves that they wanted to try and do this on their own. But the truth is that they were probably never taught how to speak intelligibly, read lips, or hold their own in a large group, thus making them entirely dependent on the interpreter. So to take that away from them would be like taking the prosthetic leg away from the one girl, or taking away the wheelchair from the other girl. Some of you may disagree, but I believe that communicating is just as important as walking.

Reality shows are such a great indicator of what our society thinks is important. Who's the prettiest? Who's the most successful business person? Who's the best singer? Who's the strongest? Who's the bravest? Who's the best cook? I suppose that shows that focused on: who's the meekest? who's the kindest? who's the most humble? really wouldn't get that many ratings at all...

If you don't have a novel to read, then write one!

I have a huge assignment due Tuesday for my "Curriculum Foundations" class. I have to write my cultural autobiography and reflect on how my background and experiences shape how I interact with students, as well as how my background and experiences relate to my role as an educator. It's turning out to be quite in-depth: twelve categories with anywhere from five to thirteen sub-questions per category... and then the reflection.

I don't mind the assignment. Who doesn't like talking about themselves? Especially when you're as fascinating as me? (kidding there, of course... or was I?)

Anyways, some of the questions required information that I'm a little sketchy on, so I had to make a few phone calls to the grandparents. I learned some interesting things that I didn't know before.

First, my maternal grandmother has her masters degree!! That's quite an accomplishment for a woman back in the day... Way to go for sticking it to society, grandma!

Second, my paternal grandmother (who is 100 percent Chinese) has two names. The first was given to her by her grandfather. This is her formal Chinese name. Her second name, the one everyone knows her by here in the U.S, was given to her by the nurse who delivered her. Grandma jokes that the nurse happened to like old-fashioned names--she named the first three girls Bessie, Annie, and Minnie.

I will let all of my non-family readers (all 3 of you) guess which of the three names belongs to my grandma by studying the picture below of a two-year-old version of me sitting on grandpa's lap:

Summer Reading

It's been awhile since I've been truly hooked on a book series. I believe the last time was the summer of 2004 when I read the "Mark of the Lion Series" by Francine Rivers. I have read lots of books since that time, but no series has gripped my attention to the exclusion of all other activities.

.... until the "Twilight" Series by Stephenie Meyer. Those of you "in the know" about children's literature may wonder if a story about a teenage girl falling in love with a vampire is beneath me, but I can assure you it is NOT! And apparently there are a lot of adults out there who would agree with me. I'm not typically into science fiction novels, but this series is the exception. The themes throughout the story (like love, acceptance, and addiction) are timeless!

It seems that there are a lot of other people out there (teenage girls? romance enthusiasts? undercover vampires?) who want to read the series at this point in time. It's probably because the fourth and last book is coming out on August 2nd. At any rate, it means that a cheap-o like me who's not going to run out and buy the books has to wait an excruciatingly long time to reserve a copy from the library. I'm currently next in line to get a hold of the second book, and the past week and a half have been ABSOLUTE TORTURE. A frustrating lesson in patience.

For those of you who aren't sure if you want to invest the time to read the book, there's always The Twilight Movie (hopefully it will do the book justice!). Click to view the trailer.

But His Puppets Are Still Scary

Things I hated as a child and now love as an adult:

• Naps
• Spinach
• Baths
• Wiping my nose on a tissue
  
• Mr. Rogers

I was thinking of Mr. Rogers today as I hashed out my "philosophy of education" assignment for class. Something he once said seems to encompass what I believe about education:

"It's easy to convince people that children need to learn the alphabet and numbers. How do we help people to realize that what matters is how a person's inner life finally puts together the alphabet and numbers of his outer life? What really matters is whether he uses the alphabet for the declaration of war or the description of a sunrise, and his numbers for the final count in Buchenwald or for the specifics of a new bridge" (Fred Rogers)

Amen.

Something New

Well, I may not know what I'm going to do when I grow up, but I do know that I wanted to change a few things on my blog. Obviously the layout is different; I've also added some labels and links to the side. Now if only I would use my hours of free time to clean the house, you might be able to see the floor and the counters around here!

Life Choices and Cereal Choices

Today was my first day of school... first day of my "Masters of Curriculum and Instruction" program, that is.

The decision to enter into this particular program of study was pressured. I felt pressured to start taking some credits to renew my teaching license. And why not apply those credits towards a Masters? When I started looking into available masters programs out there, I was disappointed. Very few masters programs are related to special education (the Masters of Special Education is for teachers who have no background in special ed; i.e: not me). After much conversation with colleagues and with the hubby, I decided that the Masters of C & I would be the best option for me, out of all the pitiful options there were. I also chose to apply my courses towards a degree knowing that we probably won't stay where we are for more than one year (meaning I'd have to drop out of the program and hope I could transfer my credits).

So it was with mixed enthusiasm that I went to class today. Early on in the two hour class, our professor said: "This is the most important thing: Begin with the end in mind". This was the point at which, if I was being honest with myself, I would have run out of the room, crawled into a hole somewhere, and rocked myself while humming as loudly as possible to block out the one question that has been on my mind lately: WHAT DO I WANT TO DO WHEN I GROW UP???

The problem is that I have always been goal-driven. In high school, I knew I wanted to teach children who were deaf/hard-of-hearing, go to a Christian college, and be finished in five years. So I found the only college in the U.S that met all of my criteria, and then I showed up. No matter that I had never set foot in the state of Michigan before. No matter that nobody I knew from high school chose the same college. No matter that they closed the program when I was halfway through it. No matter that it cost a small fortune to go there. None of this stopped me. Two other important goals in the past three years were to find a teaching job.... and I did. And I don't mean to say that I did this all on my own, because the Lord himself knows I didn't. The point being, I've always worked toward a goal.

So what is a goal-less girl to do? Without any strong sense of direction, I'm just like a sailboat drifting aimlessly in the ocean. A flight with no destination. An architect with no vision. A poet at a fork in the road. It's an uncomfortable place to be; and I'm only just beginning to empathize with what Max went through (and is still going through!).

Begin with the end in mind. What is my end? Do I want to be a classroom teacher forever? If so, do I want to stay a resource room teacher? A deaf/hard-of-hearing teacher? A regular teacher? Do I want to become a teacher consultant? A reading remediation specialist? An administrator? A special education administrator? Do I want to teach at the college level? If so, in which area of concentration?

I seem to be looking down an impossibly long cereal aisle. If someone could just put what I need in my cart, that would be great. Thanks.

The Waiting Game

I'm still playing the waiting game. Never mind that I'm not looking for a job, not looking for someone to call me about an interview, not waiting to hear if I've gotten the job. I'm waiting on the other side of things.

We need to hire a new Resource Room teacher for the fall. Last week, I sat in on the second round of interviews (My principal said she would sift through the 100+ applications before she called me in. Apparently her criteria was "local" and "just out of college"). Both of the candidates seemed to be very nice girls. By the end of both interviews, I felt like they would both do a good job. Then I started thinking that one would do better than the other... and the assistant principal agreed with me. She was going to check in with the principal at the end of last week and call our top choice this week. As far as I can tell, that has not happened yet.

And I'm starting to get antsy about it; after all, I'll be working very closely with whoever they hire, so I have a particular interest in seeing the right person get hired. I've snooped around and found the MySpace profile of our top choice. She had the good sense to make her profile private, but I do notice from her updates that she's been interviewing at quite a few other schools.

I wish the powers that be would get hopping on this one!!

O Canada

Well, we're back from a whirlwind trip to Montreal! We spent one evening and one full day there. Max and I decided that the most cost-efficient way to see the city was by foot... So we walked for ten and a half hours on Friday. We maybe could have gotten away with just seven hours of walking, but we got lost twice. Here are some of the highlights of our trip:


Eating crepes. This one is made with ham, cheese, and egg. Yum!










Here we are at the top of Mount Royal, overlooking the city.
Gorgeous views! It was worth the hike and the 250 stairs!







We walked through many streets like this one. Sometimes I had to remind myself that I was still in North America!









Here I am enjoying a giant plate of "Moules frites" which is French for "mussels and fries". Kudos to Montreal for serving my fries with mayonnaise instead of ketchup (they're more French than I gave them credit for!). This picture was taken after eight hours of walking. We were sunburned and sore and oh so hungry. We walked another two hours after dinner, trying to find Old Town to buy a magnet. Both of my legs broke from all the walking, but at least we got our magnet! Proof that we were there!

Back... and Gone Again

My long weekend with my long-time friend who I hadn't seen in a LONG time was fabulous! On Saturday, we spontaneously attended the 16th annual barbecue battle in downtown Washington D.C. We stood in line for two hours to get to the free samples. There were about two hundred feet of tables set up and we were both quite full (and sunburned) by the end of it. Here I am posing with the Oscar Meyer Wiener-Mobile. I resisted the urge to sing the song.


On Sunday we went to the International Spy Museum (which was well worth the entrance fee). The spy museum was actually the best museum I've ever been to... and I've been to quite a few. I would highly recommend it to anyone who's visiting the area. We got to climb through vents in the wall, identify people in disguise, and see lots of vintage espionage equipment used throughout history. Did you know that the NSA shreds 40,000 pounds of paper a day... and that the shredded documents are then recycled into pizza boxes? True story.

We walked a lot around the city, and went to a great Mexican restaurant to celebrate her birthday. It was a such a fun weekend that we both vowed to reunite annually instead of letting another four years go by!

Tomorrow, the husband and I are off on a spontaneous trip to Montreal. I will finally get to find out if they speak REAL French there!

Fly

Yesterday, Max and I were entertained for a long time watching our cat Mowgli hunt a fly. Usually, I hate flies in the house during the summer, but the cats seem to think that flies are candy, and behave as such when they see one. Mowgli reminded me of a boxing prairie dog the way she was up on her hind legs and swinging in the air with her front paws. If only I'd had the camera nearby! Even more amusing is when she would take a running leap into the air (paws swinging wildly) in an effort to trap the unsuspecting fly. At one point, she even climbed to the top of the treadmill for a height advantage. But in the end, it was our patient hunter Gizmo who finally ate the tasty treat. She calmly waited until the fly came to her, then trapped it between her paw and the floor. Our cats are way better than fly swatters!

In other news, I fly to Washington D.C area today to visit a good friend of mine I haven't seen in three years! I'll update when I get back next week!

At Least I Didn't Cry This Time

For months now, I've wanted to do something different with my hair. Drastic. But not too drastic, because, you know, deep down I'm a wuss. I've never quite been able to forget those many, many times I would come back from the hair dresser in AGONIZING TEARS because there is nothing so traumatic as feeling ugly when you're 16.

So I'm sitting in the salon, telling Sophie that I want something "new, fun, fresh, light, different". She starts flipping through a magazine and says "how about this cut?" Well, the model looked great of course, so I said Sure! and out came the scissors and off went my glasses.

Now, mind you, I'm blind when I don't wear my glasses--and you can't wear glasses when you're getting a haircut. So she's cutting, and I'm squinting through a curtain of bangs at the blurry new vision of me in the mirror. Everything looks fine as far as I can tell. It's short, but not too short... and I can tell my bangs will look different.

Then Sophie applies roughly a bucket of mousse to my hair and starts in with the blow dryer. After about fifteen minutes, she swivels me around to face the mirror and says "Ta da!" (Okay, she didn't really say that, but she may as well have). I smile because all I can see is what looks to be like an impressionistic painting of me. I reach for my glasses, and ...

Uh-oh. Can anyone say 1995? I am just too young to have BIG HAIR. I pouted all the way back to the car, amidst scoffing stares of passers-by (how do you know they weren't scoffing or staring? You weren't there...). I walked in the house and warned Max that it was disastrous. He managed to make me feel a little better about it. Between his tact and my hairbrush, I was able to tame my new giant 90's hairdo into something hopefully a bit more presentable:


You will all just have to take my word on how bad it was before I got home!!

Final Bell

Today was the last day of school.

I know, I know... you're all thinking: "But Sarah, you've been so calm! Where was the countdown? When was the freaking out? I didn't hear you whine about how the kids are driving you crazy!"

Well as it turns out, the end-of-the-year for a resource room teacher is A LOT more laid back than for a classroom teacher. The difference? The kids. Much as I love them, students make you loopy in June. But as a resource room teacher, I just conveniently left them in their classrooms so that they could enjoy their end of the year activities, and I could tackle a mountain load of paperwork. This week went by calmly, efficiently, quietly. Even quickly!

And now begins the time I like to call: "Doing Whatever I Want Whenever I Want To". Hurray!!

For She's a Jolly Good Fellow

Today the entire special education staff went to a Mexican restaurant to celebrate the successful end of my colleague's first year of teaching. It doubled as a goodbye party too because she is moving on to greener pastures next year in a school closer to home. I'm not sure what it is about Mexican restaurants that appeal to teacher parties (this is the third consecutive year I've had an end-of-the-year party at Mexican restaurant!). Maybe it's because the environment is stereotypically loud and colorful.... just makes us teachers feel right at home!

Anyways, we sent off my dear friend with cards, tributes, and gifts for her new classroom: disinfecting wipes, baby wipes, air sanitizer, band-aids, DVD's, and a trophy (which she worked HARD to earn, let me tell you). She loved all of it, of course, but I think what she would rather have liked to do is to take our entire special ed staff and bring us with her to her new job...

J, you will be missed!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Master List or Master of Lists

Despite my protesting body, I did drag myself to work today. I had two good reasons to do so:

1) I have work to do before the end of the school year (Friday)
2) If I had to stay cooped up in this house for one more day, I would have gone insane!! No, really.

And it's amazing what can get done when I don't see any kids! I crossed some major items off of my to-do list. It was a such a deeply satisfying feeling to check things off that list. I briefly considered making up another list full of things I've accomplished, just so I could cross off more items. But that would make me out to be crazy. And I'm not crazy... Crazy is when you write a list of all your lists so you can keep track of them all.

Yes, I'm talking about you Rebekah!

For Real

see more dog pictures

Cause for Alarm

... and there were many today.

Cause #1: My principal comes to my office and says: "I'm just going to cut to the chase" (uh-oh) "I really value honesty" (UH-OH) "Did you put an anonymous, angry letter in my box about two weeks ago?" [WHEW! No way, that was not me at all]. Interesting discussion ensued.

Cause #2: Huge IEP (yearly meeting to determine individual goals and accommodations) scheduled for 1:00 today. It happened to be the transition IEP of this little fellow. Transition IEP's are run by the special ed. team from whatever district/school the child is coming to us from. Anyways, this one is a big deal. I got a phone call at 8:45 AM informing me that the IEP team members were at the front office, waiting for me to start the meeting. Apparently, when the other IEP team rescheduled the meeting from 1:00 to 9:00, they neglected to tell us!!

When I realize this, I am talking myself down from panic. Breathe in, breathe out. Nobody knows you're freaking out, so just pretend that you're not! Then I had to go conjure up two substitutes on the fly (so the classroom teacher and aide could attend the meeting) and pull our principal out of an awards assembly.

It all ended up working out okay; my heart stopped racing halfway into the meeting.

Cause #3: Ordered takeout from Panera Bread today. About halfway through my yummy salad, just as I am lifting the fork to my mouth, I notice HALF A LADYBUG stuck to my lettuce!! Ewwww. It would have been so much better if I had just found a whole ladybug, because where did that other half go???