Heptadecagon

Halloween can be frightful, right? I just graded Exam #4 for my weekday class.  We covered Muscle and Nerve, and those are two very tough topics.  Knowing that, I allowed my students to bring in a cheat sheet. The mean is a 65%, with the following breakdown (the number is the number of students who received that grade): 90-100%:  2 80-89%:  4 70-79%: 3 60-69%: 9 Below 60%: 7 I asked the students to report on their exam whether or not they'd used a cheat sheet.  One person received a 28% and didn't use a cheat sheet.  I hate to be crass, but I don't think a cheat sheet would even have helped this poor soul.  Frightful, indeed.

Aaron had a friend over yesterday afternoon.  His mom and sister came with him, since this child hasn't had too many play-dates with other kids.  I can't stand that term, play-date, but since it is now in use and fits the sentence, we are going with it.  Anyway, this child that came to play happens to be a very special child.  Even if I didn't know that, I would have known the minute he walked in. Me:  What do you have there? Him:  I brought my elements book and one on the Middle Ages. Me:  So cool.  Aaron and the girls would like both of these. His mom:  [She smiles.] He really wanted to bring his math dictionary, but we couldn't find it. Me:  [I smile.]  Maybe next time. Match made in heaven, these two!

Last year, some of the things that occurred in the 4th grade trumped anything that happened at my school.  Apparently this year, things are different.  I must be reasonably happy with the 5th and 2nd grade teachers, because I haven't posted any whiny complaints here about them.  On the other hand, my classes are so rife with tension, conflict, and apathy, that the 2nd and 5th grade never really stood a chance. Two Saturdays ago, I walked into class, prepared to give Exam 3.  I waited for the students to trickle in, and noticed that 3 of them were missing.  This is a class of 15 students; you know when 3 aren't there.  I waited for a few minutes and then went ahead and started the exam. All last week, I checked my email and had nothing from the three students. This past Saturday, I walked in the door and was accosted the minute I unlocked the door.  Student #1 (S1):  I need to go.  I've had some really weird things going on at home.  I tried to email you about the

While it isn't just a Catholic thing, keeping holy the Sabbath is amongst the list of things I don't do.  I guess you can call me a bad Catholic.  Go ahead and do it...you won't bother me.  Why don't we keep it holy and why won't it bother me?  Because Sunday is the day I get many things done.  Just today, we (as a family, so at least there was some quality time involved) cleaned the lower level of the house, made cookies for a party, and started on the laundry.  We read a couple of chapters out of a novel and got the backyard raked and somewhat ready for the winter. In conjunction with my last post, if I can get all of this done on a Sunday perhaps the rest of my week will progress nicely. Hope you all had a great weekend. P.S.  Who's betting I can't keep my mouth shut for all of November?  I'm betting against myself at this point. 

Wake-up time comes too soon these days. Lucy the cat or some other noise will wake me.  Sometimes, Tim has fallen asleep on the couch, and the creak of the floorboards as he ascends the stairs at 4 am rouses me from my slumber.  It takes all I have to go back to sleep, and oftentimes, it just doesn't happen.  I lie there with my eyes open until I decide to tiptoe out of bed. Usually, I quickly get dressed, put some dishes away and power up the computer.  I find that those early morning minutes are great for writing, especially if I have my warm cup of coffee in hand.  Of course, I've been pouring a bit more regular coffee into my decaf/regular concoction.  I guess at least it isn't rum. The early morning wake-up has been affecting my mood, though.  Simply put, I am tired.  By the end of the day, I am especially feeling the effects of the fatigue.  I get crabby and irritable, and combined with the hormonal shifts that are now occuring (yes, I think I am officially perime

Melina likes to have Tim make up stories for her.  She asks him to tell her a story and use his hands as a book.  He is supposed to place his hands palms up, next to each other, and then mimic the opening and closing of a book while he spouts a story of her choosing.  I think the story is usually some variation of a Scooby-Doo tale. Well, Melina has impeccable timing.  Yesterday morning, before Tim left for work, Melina asked for a story from Daddy. Melina:  Can Daddy tell me a story? Me:  Yes, but not right now.  Daddy is on the potty. Melina:  But his head is not in the potty. I forget sometimes how refreshing and funny kids are when they call it like they see it.  I was kind of surprised to hear that she didn't say his hands weren't in the potty.

Melina and I are scheduled to be at the kids' school at least three days this week.  It has been a long time since we've been there that many times, so it isn't too bad, other than the fact that I am not getting anything else done this week.  But that isn't the reason for my post. The reason is this:  the minute we walk into that school, Melina's face shines.  Her eyes turn bright and she looks for people she knows.  Yesterday, we were lucky enough to find two classes in the hallway, looking at the books set out for the book sale.  Melina quickly scanned the kids, found Zoe, Talia, Jackie, Sammy, Talia D., Belle, Anna, and a few others, and gave them each a hug.  The funny thing is, all of these kids are so happy to see Melina. "Oh, Melina, how are you?" they squeal, or, "Can I have a hug, too?"  Melina is happy to oblige. All of that happened before we even made it into the front office to check in.  There, her celebrity status continued.  &

Zoe and Talia attended their first book club meeting of the school year last Saturday.  Melina was not a guest, but went with Tim to pick them up.  The book discussion was a success, as was the picture taking afterwards.

It's hard to fall in love with something you are required to do.  But in 7th grade, I did just that. I attended a Catholic school and was required to wear navy blue sweaters, if we wanted to wear one at all.  And one day, sometime during 7th grade, I found my love in the Men's department at TJMaxx.  Navy blue wool with a v-neck collar.  Nothing special about it:  no monograms or fancy piping, just a plain old comfortable sweater. I wore it in the fall, winter and early spring.  I tried to wear it on the stuffy, hot, May days, but feared that the sweat dripping down my arms and neck would give way to some issues .  But come the fall of 8th grade, I pulled it back out again.  I have no idea what happened to that sweater.  I probably gave it away after finishing 8th grade.  No more navy for me; I'd moved on to dark green or gray. Again, a uniform dictated my choices . This past Sunday, I headed to Marshalls to check on some cardigans. I could have 100 of them and I still w

This post isn't about the upcoming election.  Don't worry, even I am not courageous enough to bring up that subject here.  If you don't know who you are voting for by now (and I happen to be one of those persons that believes undecided voters do exist , much like Santa) then take some time in front of a computer and bring up the issues.  See where these candidates stand and make a decision. Anyway, back to my own problem.  I am placing a few questions out here in cyberspace, and hope to take a vote.  For those of you that don't know me, the questions may seem random to you, but please know that there is a bigger plan at work here.  For those of you that know  me well, I think the plan is quite obvious. 1.  Should Harvey's mouth move when he speaks? 2.  If my main character thinks she is from one of Jupiter's moons, is it okay for her to not actually travel there?  (This one might be tough.  I don't want to reveal anything just yet, but this book is not

So I am at the end of the Harvey story...I know where it ends, I just need to get there.  I sit at my computer, which, by the way is an awesome computer and I am thankful to Tim for buying it for me, and I pull  up the story.  I look at the words on the paper, and then I get an idea.  But not for how to finish this story...for how to add more to the other story I am working on.  I pull that one up in Word, and a surge rushes through me...I crank out a couple of thousand words and sit back, thinking that I could do this for a living, provided I got paid just a little for my time.  If only I had the ability to sleep 4 hours or less a night...I think I might be able to finish both of these books and move on to the next one.  Whew.  I'm done. P.S.  I just checked my word count.  Between yesterday and today I added 6000 words to this story.  If only it had been the Harvey one, I'd be done with the first draft!  

Melina:  Do you know what my new favorite color is, Mom? Me:  Um, no.  What is it? I was expecting her to say hot pink instead of pink .  Really, I was. Melina:  Green.  My new favorite color is green. Me:  Oh really.  I like green, too. Melina:  That means I can wear pants, skirts, shirts, and dresses with all of the colors on them. Me:  Well, okay then. Sure enough, this morning she chose a pair of jeans and a white shirt with butterflies and purple striped sleeves.  There is a little bit of green, but not much.  Faulty logic, I say.  But still funny. 

Her name was Carmela Cornelia.  She wasn't fond of that middle name, she said, but it made for a lovely case of alliteration.  Her married name did, after all, also start with a C.  I remember as a kid I'd sing her name to myself because I thought it was so beautiful.  And any time I heard either of those names, which, to be honest, wasn't that often, I'd think of Grandma. I thought of Grandma this morning, too.  I drew the car up to the red light and stopped, glancing at my hands as they gripped the steering wheel.  The sun shone from the east, and the rays caught the skin of my right hand such that I looked at it twice.  The epidermal layer looked smooth and shiny, almost translucent in the bright morning light.  Had I not known they were my hands, I'd have thought they were my grandma's. Grandma has been gone for 9 years now, and I miss her more and more at times like that.  A smell, a hand, a word, all of them can conjure the image of Carmela.   I rememb

  This has been a test of the Emergency Math System.  Had this been an actual emergency, you would have been instructed where to tune in your area for news and official information on any math being conducted. FRN, please sit back and wait for your heart rate to settle. P.S.  All photos taken from Wikipedia, with permission, only because I was too lazy to find some of Tim's own doodles.

On Mondays, Aaron eats lunch at the peanut-free table with his friend, Harper.  You've probably heard the name before.  We met Harper and her mom 8 years ago (!) at play group.  Aaron and Harper are both November babies, and have been together in class a couple of times (2, including this year).  A couple of months into Kelsey's pregnancy with their second child, Michael, I found out I was pregnant with Melina.  We couldn't have timed it better if we had tried (which we didn't...if you know the story of Melina, you KNOW we didn't try).  Melina and Michael will most likely be in the same grade as well. Anyway, back to my story of sorts.  Monday is Aaron's day to eat with Harper.  Which means I pack up a nut-free lunch.  I check the labels of anything prepackaged, if I send it (which I rarely do) and make sure not to give Aaron his standard PB&J sandwich.  I even cleared a recipe with Kelsey, one for oatmeal banana bars, just to make sure I could make Aaron

Nothing new to report and not much to say. Can you believe that one? Yeah, me neither.  Perhaps I will be slammed with voices in my head this week, forcing me to write furiously some new posts.  Stay tuned. But wait!  I just migrated to the other tab and reminded myself that the Tigers and Yankees played last night in Game 1 of the ALCS.  I doubt any of you know this, since I have never mentioned it, but I am a Tigers fan.  I still have the commemorative baseball from when they won the 1984 World Series.  Sure, it is in a box in the basement, but I do have it. Now,  there is nothing I like better (well, except for a good run and some ice cream) than to see the Tigers beat the Yankees.  Well done.  But this, this went beyond elation when I read the following: What will be etched in the minds of those who watched this game will be Yankees shortstop and captain Derek Jeter crumpled on the ground in pain during the Tigers' two-run rally in the 12th and being helped off t

The other morning, on the way into work, I heard a commercial that spoke about the number of days someone had already lived.  If I look at that number for myself, I have to say that I've lived the following: 39 years * 365 days/year =  14235 days   In an effort not to scare away FRN, I am not including leap years, nor am I including the fact that my birthday was back in August, so technically I'd need to add some days.  For that matter, aren't I really in my 40th year?  I guess I am, since my first year was from birth to age 1.  I know, I know, I scared you already.  Come back, please. Why am I going this route?  Because I realized actually how short life really is.  Let's say I'd like to live to be 108.  That is a very random number, but one I have clung to for a while now.  I really would like to live that long, provided I am in good health.  If I do, then I will get to live: 108 years * 365 days/year = 39420 days And if I do the subtraction I have

Many of you have heard this by now, but I received an email from Aaron's teacher the other night.  I think an email is slightly better than a phone call, because you have the ability to react without having the other person listen.  This is what the email said: Hello there Mrs. C, Hope all is well.  I have another bathroom story.... boys just LOVE that place!!!!!!  Aaron was caught putting the boys pass in the toilets today and swishing it around.... he wasn't bothering others but that is a disrespect of my property.  I talked to him about it and told him we may need to come up with a plan if he can't go to the bathroom, do his business and get out!  Thought you might want to know since this is the 2nd bathroom incident.  Thanks so much.  Have a nice evening!! My first reaction?  I laughed out loud.  So glad to know that my kid, the one so interested in science, was probably trying to see what the pass would do to the swirling action of the toilet.  My second r

"Today my life changed, Mom," Melina said, as she walked in to the kitchen. "Oh really?  How?" I asked. "Because today, at Kroger, I saw a pretend vacuum.  Yes, I don't know if it is a vacuum [meaning she doesn't know if it will actually work], but it might be one," she said. "And how did that change your life?" I asked. "Well, I didn't know there were fake ones," she said, and then ran toward the living room. Just wait until she finds out about breast implants.  That concept is going to blow her mind.

For the past couple of years, I have tried to post every single day in the month of November, otherwise known as NaBloWriMo .  I've been able to do it, and while I am busy this year, I probably could do it again.  However, my rate of posting has increased anyway, so where is the challenge? Well, it can be found instead in NaNoWriMo .  What is that, you ask?  To write a novel in one month.  According to the website, "Participants begin writing on November 1. The goal is to write a 50,000-word (approximately 175-page) novel by 11:59:59 PM on November 30." Now, I might be seeking a challenge, but I am not crazy.  There is no way I can conceivably put together that many words over the span of one month.  I wish, but I still have to teach and be a mom, so right now, it just ain't gonna happen. But I have a plan.  I told you that my Harvey story is in the home stretch.  I don't know how many chapters I have left, but I am almost there.  I have seen the light at th

I gave my second exam today to my Saturday class.  The last exam scores were dismal, so I adjusted my test accordingly.  I made the questions somewhat easier, and also let them use their notes.  The results?  A little better, but some people still managed to get Ds.  Who were these people?  One, a person that just sits in class and doesn't really pay attention, and the other?  Someone who refused to use her notes.  "I want to see what I know," she said to me, the 3rd time she asked me about a question and my answer was, "I am letting you use your notes, therefore I cannot answer that question."  I so appreciate that she is trying her best and wants to really understand the material.  But how about you take the test without the notes, and then go back and check yourself?  Wouldn't that be a great idea? Wouldn't that help you understand the material, too?  You could check where you went wrong and correct yourself. And then, maybe, just maybe, you wou

The girls have Gmail accounts that are used in conjunction with their library cards.  Up until now, they have had no use for an email account, so I have had their emails forwarded to me.  This works great in terms of the library:  I can see what they have checked out (I already know, since I am the one to take them) and when it is due.  We've saved ourselves some high fees this way. Anyhoo, the girls have recently used their email accounts to send a couple of questions to their teachers over the weekend.  I still have the accounts forwarded, so I've been able to see the outgoing mail and response.  I like being in the loop. Either the girls have forgotten that their email addresses are forwarded, or they don't care.  Because today, after they'd done some of their homework, I checked my mail to find this: mmmwwwahahahahahahahahahahahah ahahahahahahahahah!!!!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  and this: WHATEV!!!! and this: