Teacher Trouble (A short story and a cartoon attempt.)

Ms. Jones stood in the front of the room ready to start. Few people were paying attention to her. Many were playing with their chairs, others doodled on papers, while others chatted loudly with their neighbors. She had to get their attention somehow.


“Please stop talking Leslie and Judy,” said Ms. Jones firmly, “It’s time to begin.”

The two culprits looked up guiltily and quickly quieted down.


“Now, I’d like to start...” began Ms. Jones when the door opened.

Jack sheepishly grinned from the doorway, “Sorry, um, late, um, mom, and, um, I had to use the bathroom. Sorry again. I tried to get here on time.”

Ms. Jones sighed, tucked her hair behind her ear and calmly replied, “It’s fine, just come in quickly.”

Jack nodded, smiled and found his seat.



Ms. Jones began again, introducing her topic when a hand began to wave in the back of the room.

“What NOW?” She thought to herself. I’ve barely begun.

Gathering her patience she asked, “Yes Betsy?”

“Should we be taking notes?” inquired Betsy.

“Patience.” Ms. Jones chanted repeatedly in her head. Then she smiled at Betsy and said, “Taking notes might be a good idea.”

Suddenly Betsy stood up.

“Where are you going?” asked a confused Ms. Jones.

“I have to get a pencil if I need to take notes.” was Betsy’s reply.

A chorus of “Me too” arose throughout the room, along with the sounds of digging and searching as everyone scrounged for paper and pencil.

Puffing out her cheeks and slowly letting the air out, Ms. Jones commanded, “Stop. Never mind. Just listen carefully for now and I’ll give you copies of the information later.”

Sighs of relief were heard as everyone returned to their seats.


“Okay, we don’t have much time left, so no more interruptions please.” Ms. Jones stated as she tried to start, yet once again. It was at this moment that out of the corner of her eye she spotted movement.

She continued to talk, but tracked the movement with her eyes. It was just as she suspected. Someone was passing notes. Quickly she raised her gaze and made eye contact with the guilty party.

Tom turned bright red as Ms. Jones shook her head ever so slightly at him. Silently he crumpled the note in his hand and listened to what she was saying.

Later, sitting at her desk, sipping a diet soda, Ms. Jones sighed deeply. “Why?” she asked herself, as she did each week, “Why are teachers so much trouble? I think being in charge of faculty meeting is more difficult than teaching a class of students!”

Just Thinking

I was reading tweets from various people when I came across one from someone boarding a plane. It said something like, “Damn. Lady with a baby just sat in my row.” I smiled, thinking of that person and remembering when I would have had the same reaction. It’s just interesting how your experiences change you. Now, I would be the lady with the baby sitting down by him tweeting, “Great, cute, but grouchy looking guy in my row. He’s already glaring at me.” I would be grumbling in my head, “ Probably single and has never had to travel with a kid. I hate traveling with a baby, but I have a right to visit family too.” While wishing I could sit a few rows ahead with the nice looking older lady who probably knew what I was going through. I didn’t want to be that “damn lady with the baby,” but we all get our turn.

A couple of years ago, before my adorable “surprise” called Hewson I had a different perspective about riding a plane with infants. If I boarded a plane and sat by a woman with a baby my message would have read something like, “Sitting by woman with toddler. Poor lady, just glad it’s not me.” And that would be the truth, all I’d be feeling was relief. I’d offer to help and just smile at the cries, because they weren’t my concern.

That’s why I couldn’t help, but chuckle at the tweet, because some day it will be the complainer’s turn to be the one on the plane with the baby. I’ll be happy when it’s my turn to be the helpful older lady.

Just a Quick Announcement

Guess What! My roller hockey team finally won a game tonight! It was close, 7-6, but we won with a rookie goalie. Guess who the goalie was, ME! I've played goalie before, for the kids, when they didn't have enough players, but never for adults. I've always wanted to play goalie, but I hate to experiment when it's not just for me. A whole team depends on a goalie. I didn't want to screw things up for everybody. However, tonight we had to have a goalie and nobody else wanted to do it. I step up and took the chance. I think the rest of the team played harder because I was in goal. They knew I was nervous, but they respected me for taking a chance when they wouldn't. They also knew I wasn't very good, so they had to play hard. Whatever was happening it all turned out. I'm glad I'll try new things. It's how I found the joy of hockey in the first place. It's also easy to succeed when the expectations are low, but you got to start somewhere.

Motherhood: Too Young or Too Old

I’ve been musing a lot lately about motherhood. Particularly about myself as a mother and how much I’ve changed from my first child to my last child. I’ve been pondering the right balance of over protective, let them learn from their mistakes, lots of advice and too lazy. A couple of things have brought on this self reflection.

First, my younger sister is due to have a baby in a few weeks. I am the oldest of four girls. The second oldest is the one pregnant. What’s so funny? Interesting? I’m not sure how describe the situation, is that she’s kind of doing a repeat performance of me two years ago. Two years ago I had a 11 year old and a 9 year old. My husband and I were enjoying the experience of having older children and all that we could do as a family. We were happy with two children. We had out grown our younger ideas of a bigger family and realized life was good. We were doing everything to avoid getting pregnant, except one of us having surgery. I was 34 and my youngest was 10. I was happy having my kids when I was younger and I never wanted a huge gap in their ages. (Everyone has their own experiences, but for me having my kids in my 20’s was how I planned it, I wanted to be done being pregnant by my 30’s. I’m not saying one way is better than the other, I’m just commenting on my own experiences.) Of course it’s when you get the most comfortable that life throws the unexpected at you.

My husband gets embarrassed when I say this, but I don’t really care, it’s how I think of it, I call it our “swear in the bathroom pregnancy.” When the stick turned blue and I said, “Shit.” Then I bought three more tests to be sure. Next, I told my husband.

His response was, “Is there a way I’m supposed to react?”

I told him, “No, you can swear, I did.”

So, ten years after our daughter and twelve after our first son we were starting over. This time I was in the at risk category because I would turn 35 a month before he was due. I was old this time and felt it.

Well, here it is 2 years later and my 34 year old sister called me this fall and said,”Guess what? I’m pregnant and we weren’t trying either. Maybe it’s a family thing to be really fertile at 34.”

She turned 35 during this pregnancy too and she had about the same due date I had. Strange, or maybe not, maybe I don’t know some medical reason women get fertile about this age, one last ditch effort by our bodies before time runs out. Let me know if there is, otherwise I’m sticking with the family curse and warning the other two sisters.

Her gap between kids isn’t quite as big as mine, but it’s still significant. It’s just such a strange experience having my kids spread out so far and doing things all over again. Sometimes it’s easier, because I’m older and wiser. Sometimes it’s harder because I’m older and so done with it all. This brings me to two other experiences that induced my deep thinking.

First, was playing hockey with my 14 year old. Once a week I play roller hockey in a recreation league with my oldest. It’s one of the highlights of my week. I can’t wait until my daughter is old enough to join us. Her skills are good enough, she’s just too little. We’re not on a very good team, but we’re together, doing something I love. Last week we lost big time, however we scored one goal. That goal just happened to be a pass from mother to son for the score. My hope is that someday this will be as memorable to him as it is to me. This is one of the benefits of having kids when I was in my 20’s, being able to mostly keep up with them in their teens. I thought about my toddler, when he’s 14 I’ll be in my 50’s. I still plan on playing hockey of course, I just don’t think it will be the same.

The last event happened at the park Saturday. My youngest was climbing on the playground equipment, while his sister’s soccer team warmed up. He was climbing a ladder and I just stood back and watched. It wasn’t tall and I was close, but I wasn’t hovering right behind him. I remember when my oldest first explored a park. I used to follow him around “spotting” him. I’d let him try things, but I was always right there in case he slipped or fell. I don’t feel the same need to hover with my youngest.

In fact on the same trip to the park he tripped and I discovered myself saying,”That’s okay, everybody falls sometimes.”

He got right back up smiled, brushed his hands off and played some more.

I distinctly remember rushing over to my firstborn on such instances gushing,”Are you okay? Are you hurt?” And him bursting into tears.

That’s what’s nice about being an older, more experienced parent, I know it’s okay to sit back, watch and let things happen. It’s true, everybody falls sometimes and often it’s no big deal.

So, which is better, being a young, active mother with more energy, but less experience? Or being an older, wiser mom with less energy who sometimes lets things go? I’m not sure, but I’m feeling sort of lucky as I realize I get to be both. I get the best of both worlds. In fact as I sat in the Jumpolene in my in-laws backyard yesterday singing songs with my toddler I realized that because of the ten year gap all of my kids get some benefits. The first one got attention because he was the oldest, the middle got different attention because she was a girl and the youngest gets everyones attention because he’s so far behind the rest. Motherhood, never what I expected, usually more to learn, always an adventure.

Why Hockey and Romance Don't Mix: A Cautionary Tale.

Saturday, March 14, 2009 at 11:47pm

My husband and I are a t.v. sitcom when it comes to romance. Hopefully he won’t be too offended when he reads this, but if he thinks about it he knows it’s true. (Our mothers worry about us.) There are many reasons. Three reasons have names- Rilyn, Alessia and Hewson. Another excuse is often money. Going out costs money and flowers cost money (Mike worked for a wholesale florist in college and knows how much flowers are really worth.) If there’s only so much money and choices have to be made, I’d rather spend it on hockey. He’d rather spend it on music or sports channels. Mike hates being told or pressured into being romantic by holidays, he says that seems fake. Honestly, we’ve gotten lazy. I can think of lots of reasons and excuses that we are not very romantic. (Yes Dear, I do remember the song you wrote for me. I wrote a whole other blog about it.)

Occasionally though we do make an effort and that is why I bring you this cautionary tale. We’re on Spring Break and though we are too poor to actually travel anywhere I checked out the specials at a local hotel. It’s called The Anniversary Inn and we had the pleasure of staying there once before. The Anniversary Inn is a fun establishment set up for romantic getaways with theme rooms and plenty of privacy. The first time we went we were lucky enough to have received a gift certificate. We were excited to use it, but put it off until the last minute. Suddenly it was December and about to expire, so I scrambled to get reservations and find a sitter. On the only night that worked I also happened to have a ice hockey game.

As we planned our evening I talked Mike into letting me play. The game wasn’t too late, I think it was at 7pm. He rarely came to watch me play, this was a perfect chance for him to see a game without the kids. We could check in early and spend a little quality time before the game. I could play and we’d still have all night. It was a perfect plan. Also, ice hockey is expensive, why waste the money I’d paid to play when we could obviously do both.

The day arrived. We dropped the kids off at my in-laws, checked in and explored our wild west room complete with covered wagon bed. A little over an hour after our arrival we headed to my hockey game. Now I won’t go into much detail here, I’ve blogged about my hockey addiction before, but I love hockey. I didn’t start playing until after I turned thirty and I’ve been playing about 7 years. I haven’t had very many injuries, I mean I’m always bruised, but not many sprains or breaks. I’ve had one really good black eye, one concussion and a separated shoulder. I think those are it. The night we went to the Anniversary Inn was the night I separated my shoulder.

Yep, I had convinced Mike to let me take a few hours out of our night so that I could play hockey and what happens? I get injured. The funny things about this event (yes, there were funny things) were that first, Mike rarely comes to my games. Good thing he was there because I couldn’t get myself undressed or drive to the doctor. Second, I got injured along the boards when some teenager rammed me into the wall and I got sent to the box. Third, I didn’t leave the game right away. I tried playing until I was sure I’d broken my collar bone and was worried I wouldn’t be able to play for a long time. I finally left the game, Mike helped me change and we went to the Instacare.
The Instacare took a couple of hours, but the good news was I’d only separated my shoulder. Then we drove around town looking for an open pharmacy to fill my pain killer prescription. None were open so we finally gave up until the morning. Next we needed dinner. We had planned to go out after the game before heading back to the hotel, but now it was too late. Our only option was fast food drive thru. I was in so much pain I didn’t care. We finally arrived back at the Inn and sheepishly returned to our room. It was a little embarrassing to pass the front desk. We’d left laughing and we were returning with me in a sling. When we finally got to our room we still made good use of it; just not how we’d planned or how most guests usually do. I spent most of the night soaking my aching shoulder in the huge jetted tub. Mike watched t.v. on the big screen without me complaining or kids interrupting.

So last week when I suggested the Anniversary Inn the only thing Mike said was, “Okay, but no hockey.”

What Did You Say?

Friday, May 15, 2009 at 8:06pm

In case you missed me whining today, let me complain one more time: today was Field Day at school. Now many of you may have fond memories of Field Day, I used to, unfortunately it has been forever ruined since I’ve become a teacher. Field Day is hell. The kids are hyper all morning as they wait for the afternoon, then I have to traipse around in the hot sun for two and a half hours. Relays, obstacle courses, tag games and other adventures await us. I must create even teams, while reminding everyone that this is fun and not a competition. I’m also responsible for making sure no one gets hurt, dehydrated, sun burned, lost and has a potty break without missing a single activity. Are you picturing the fun?

So, let’s just say I was not looking forward to today. It went pretty much as I expected, I’m so exhausted right now. However, there was one funny spot in the day that is still making me giggle. It was one of those “kids say the darnedest things” moments. When it first happened I was glad my “filter” worked and I didn’t say,”What the hell?”

My group had just completed the “Sponge Relay.” They had a blast, but were soaking wet. It was not cold outside, but of course once the relay was over several began to complain they were cold. We had a few moments before our next rotation so we took a break. They all decided the best way to warm up was to lie on the concrete in the sun. All sixteen did this. Shortly one student yelled,”Flip!” and they all rolled over. Seconds later someone else shouted,”Flip!” and they rolled back. This went on for a few minutes. When it was finally time to go to our next station one of my boys excitedly ran up to me and exclaimed,”Mrs. J. did you see us master baking?”

This is where I paused, got control of myself and calmly asked,”What were you guys doing?”

“We we were master baking.” he told me again. One little girl in the class overheard him this time and looked at me sharply, wide eyed.

Still calm and mostly straight faced I asked,”What’s that?”

He looked at me strangely and then replied,”Master baking, you know, sun bathing.”

Finally I could smile as I said,”I did see you all sun bathing. You should all be plenty warm now.”

Phew! I thought. He’d had me worried for a second. I wasn’t sure what kind of damage control I was going to have to do. Thankfully overall third grade is still pretty innocent and so for a moment Field Day wasn’t so bad.

Go Forth and Conquer...Fourth

Tuesday, June 2, 2009 at 6:36pm

Today was the last day of school and like every year I have very mixed emotions. Fearing I would repeat what I said last year I reread what I wrote. Not surprisingly, I would have repeated myself because I have pretty strong feelings about being a teacher. So I think I should start by quoting myself from last year's blog (Something like Yours, Mine and Our Next Adventure):

Today is the last day of school. I can not tell a lie, I'm ready and I'm excited because I'm exhausted. I think what some people don't understand about teaching is how draining it is mentally and emotionally. Every September I fall in love with 24 new people. I get to know their strengths and weaknesses. I yearn for them to succeed, learn and grow. I study, plan, adapt, adjust, conference, brainstorm, pray, test and do many more things because I care about my students. And don't get me wrong, I like what I do, I'm just a little worn out by this time of year.

I feel the same way today. This year I only had 22 students, but beginning in September I started to get to know each of them and make them my own. I've spent months working, encouraging, pushing, challenging, teaching, preparing and learning with them. The goal has always been for June to arrive and for them to be ready to move on. I think they're ready, they might not be sure, but I am.

I liked how one observant kindergarten teacher put it last Friday,"They were horrible today. They're breaking up with each other. They're breaking up with you. They're getting ready for the end."

Change is never easy, but often it is good. I'm not really sad. I'm excited for them and I know that they're in good hands next year. I also know that there's another group of 3rd graders waiting for me in a few months, after I've regrouped, reorganized and recuperated.

How I Got Addicted to Hockey

I often get asked how I got into hockey. It's not a common sport for women, there aren't many leagues in Utah and I'm not, well, young. I'm not old either, I'm just not young.

It's my husband's fault I play hockey. Now he might not see it that way and he'll probably remember things differently, but this is how I began my addiction to hockey.

Mike and I can agree that one of the things that attracted him to me was my love of sports. Early on in our marriage we played on a lot of athletic teams together, particularly in college. After college we played parks and rec coed softball. Eventually our softball team fell apart as more and more of the wives became pregnant. Soon there was no longer a coed team, but just a men's team. I was very depressed and frustrated by this turn of events. I wasn't very good at being one of those wives who sat in the bleachers and watched, I wanted to be participating. Also, I was tired of the two choices of either chasing kids around at a game or sitting home alone with them. So one night as I cried angrily about my lack of choices my husband desperately and stupidly said, "It's not my fault you don't have any hobbies. I would gladly babysit while you went to do something, if you had a hobby."

I think Mike forgot who he was talking to, because that sounded like a challenge to me. It sounded to me like "If you only had a hobby..." So I made it a goal to find a hobby. I started out with a book club, but the ladies in it were a little strange and depressing. Then I tried scrap booking, but everyone was doing that. They were doing these perfect pages exactly alike and so I would do mine as opposite as possible. Sometimes they were really ugly, but they weren't like anyone elses.

Finally I got a flier in the mail from the Olympic Oval. Inside was a class "Learn to Play Hockey " and it was just for women. Now that was original and active! So I signed up. It was me and a bunch of teenagers, but who cares. I loved it! Hockey is so perfect. There is so much you have to do at once, skate, defend, move the puck, shoot, look up; it was made for those of us with ADHD. There's nothing I'd rather do. I'm not very good at it, oh well. That's the best thing about learning a new sport after 30, you can just plain enjoy it. Nobody expects you to be any good. You can just play for the pure joy of it and I do.