Touristy Tourists.
Y'know, I used to be disdainful of all the fannypack-wearing, sunvisor-sporting tourist pack (oh yeah, and those lovely document pouches that hang around your neck for easy passport access at the airport). I hated them. They were an embarrassment to those of us who were so careful to try and immerse ourselves in a country, who made an effort NOT to look like a touristy shlub. But the older I get, the more... well... willing I am to look like an idiot in the name of comfort. Total cheapness (and therefore "authenticity") is no longer the most important aspect of travelling.
For example, earlier today I found it well worth the extra £3 to ride closer to the hostel rather than have to trek there on foot. Notice that I did however say "hostel". Cheap is still a good thing!
I've also noticed that things hurt alot more than the last time I was in England. My feet hurt. My knee hurts. I feel the need for a nap. These are all recent developments. I am officially the dreaded and much-ridiculed Old Backpacker.
I even own one of those document pouches with the neck strap.
I found me a man!
One of the fourth-graders has a crush on me. Bless :) This is yet another first for me, and I must admit that it weirds me out a little. I keep feeling eyes on me, look around thinking that a student needs help, only to find the dear boy staring at me with googly eyes. Seriously! Big ol' gooey, love-filled, puppydog eyes! One of the girls in the class even whispered to me, "He
really likes you!" Ha! I just smiled and sent her back to her desk.
So... should I just ignore this little Romeo, or what? And do male elementary teachers get this, too?
Well, I'm off this weekend to England and Italy. Woo Hoo! Maybe I'll get a post up while I'm gone, but I somehow doubt it. I plan on being very very busy! But I'll definitely have cool pics when I get back.
I very nearly cried...
Today was one of those sub-days that pulled at my heart strings, and reinforced my decision to teach full-time as soon as I can.
I had a third-grade class for the second half-day in a row, which means that I've gotten most of their names down... at least enough that I can look in the correct general direction when I call their names. They're good kids. I come off the elevator (What can I say? If I'm not with students, I'm taking the easy way out and saving my poor knees) and the class is lined up in the hallway on the way to lunch. Commence the squealing: "There she is!" and "Yay"s, and much reaching up of sticky hands for high-fives and hugging around my middle. I felt like a rock-star.
Later during reading time, one of the girls brings up an article about last year's American Idol winner,
Carrie Underwood, and states in an awe-hushed voice: "She's even prettier than you!" Now, I take this as a grand compliment as I look absolutely NOTHING like Miss Underwood. And the thought that this student would find it awe-inspiring that
anyone should be prettier than me is... well, ego-boosting, to say the least.
So the little dears have sufficiently softened me up.
What made me all teary (and I may still cry about it before the day is through) is what happened to a little boy in the class. We'll call him John. John has physical difficulties that make it necessary for him to use a walker most of the time, though he can walk without it... which is scary because he seems so much more unstable. The drill is: enter classroom, park walker in corner, and walk to desk. But something happened at the desk. I hear a noise, turn around and see John lying face down on the floor. The rest of the class is calm. They've seen this before. I walk (calmly, but with BIG strides) to John, kneel down and ask him quietly if he's OK. He looks at me with tears streaming, nods, and hides his face. I ask him if he needs to stay there for a second. Another nod. So, with a massive lump in my throat, I get the class to work quickly, and go back to John, who's gotten himself in a sitting position. He doesn't want the nurse, or the other teacher who helps him, and he has to tell me how to pick him up.
I know he was embarrassed. And I was shaken. But I was impressed with the rest of the class being so calm. If they had made a big deal, then the situation could have been so much worse.
But that's not all. John fell again at recess. This time it was just me, him, and another student with some physical difficulties, so it wasn't so bad. I was actually able to make him laugh. But I was still teary. You just want to take them home with you and stuff 'em full of chocolate milk and cookies to make it all better.
The funniest thing I have ever heard.
I subbed in a 2nd grade class the other day, and much like the 1st graders that
KauaiMark realized are really "old" Kindergarteners, 2nd graders are only "old" 1sts. Apparently, kids don't start calming down until around 3rd grade, so these kids were full of energy. And sticky. Why are they always sticky, and why do they always want to hold your hand? I left school, went home, washed my hands thrice, and took a loooong nap.
But this class did something that nearly made me fall out of my chair. After this happened, I would dissolve into giggles for the next few days at the mere memory of this.
Okay. I had to drop the kids off at music, but when we went in the teacher wasn't there. No biggie. I had them sit on the risers, and asked them about the things they had been learning about music. While another teacher went in search of Ms. Music, I played them a few songs on the keyboard while they marched around the room and clapped their hands to the rhythm. Pretty average 7/8 year old stuff, right? Well, then they ask me if they can sing me a song. Great! How fun and cute. They then all huddle together to come to a consensus on which song will best show their musical talents. Much quicker than I would have thought possible for a group of 2nd graders, they solemnly line up on the risers, and commence with the singing.
Not "Twinkle, Twinkle". Not "I'm Bringing Home A Baby Bumblebee". Not even a jaunty Disney tune. No. They break out the Green Day.
Green Day.
"American Idiot".
They actually got through a chorus and part of a verse:
Don't want to be an American idiot.
One nation controlled by the media.
Information age of hysteria.
It's calling out to idiot America.
Welcome to a new kind of tension.
All across the alien nation... mumble mumble...
(Feet shuffling)
I don't think I've ever been so amused in my whole life.
