Not Another Apple for the Teacher

Greetings!

I have been obsessed with this trivia-based book, hil-arious facts about teaching world, especially with famous people who once was a teacher.

Here's the overall review of this book:

From devastating remarks made by teachers ("Addled, backward dunce," about young Thomas Edison) to tales of the rich and famous on campus (William Randolph Hearst kept a pet alligator at Harvard), this book gathers hundreds of facts about teachers and students. Some of the oddities included are that Gene Simmons, Kris Kristofferson, and Sting were all teachers before starting their music careers; some high school dropouts do all right: neither Henry Ford, Jack London, nor George Gershwin ever graduated; another reason to keep good notes: only small fragments of Aristotle's writings exist, and his reputation is based almost entirely on his students' class notes. In such chapters as "Educational Follies," "Words for the Wise," and "Life on Campus," this trivia collection humorously illustrates Mark Twain's observation "I have never let my schooling interfere with my education."

I sincerely believe that every "introductory" course for teachers ought include this book as a required reading!

"When I was first married..."

I was reading Real Simple magazine during one of my few down times, and I came across to this brief narrative, but that stood out greatly for me.

Allow me to enlighten you:

"When I was first married, I once vacuumed up some spilled tuna salad. (I was young and clearly didn't know a lot about housework.) A few weeks later, we noticed a terrible odor coming from the closet. My husband sniffed around and determined it was the vacuum cleaner. He cut open the bag, and out poured mounds of maggots." - Real Simple, May 2010, page 206.

To me, I'm starting to highly dislike the phrase, "When I was first married" because it hold few embarrassing stories that I just know I will laugh about it later.

That "later" came just a month later. I've decided to add this to my narrative of my daily life.

The picture above demonstrates what happens when you don't have a hot pad under your pan after using the pan. In my defense, I was frazzled, trying to get lunch to Jared and myself before our crazy schedule whisks us away from food that gives us energy for the day. Then again, many kitchen accidents happens when the chef is frazzled.

Yes, I feel bad about it. Tail between my legs if I have any.

But my "when I was first married" lore is not done. Not yet, you are in for a treat, my readers. Just be thankful it isn't you.

I caused a fire. Yes. A kitchen fire. It was particularly because I was motivated to be a good wife, make a good supper for the husband. However, the food didn't work with me. I had food in oven, and when I checked on it.

FIRE CAME OUT OF THE OVEN!

I tried to remain calm. My cooking buddy, Zach fought bravely, using the wet rag, whipping the fire. It continued to burn, so I scurried over to use the videophone to call 911.

The interpreter, as I clearly marked in blue arrow, overreacted, trying to catch everything I'm saying, while I was calm, because I knew that the fire (see above for a better image of what it is like) is contained, I just need the firefighters to come, in case it won't stop.

The interpreter's receptive skills deteriorated when I mentioned fire, as she bounced around and trying to be calm to relay the emergency to the 911 operator.

Meanwhile, Zach gave up the wet rag fighting gig, he resorted to a pot full of soapy water, and threw it on the fire. It worked like a charm.

Then the house was very smoky, and I would assume that the smoke alarms went off, but I had no idea.


To demonstrate how smoky the house was, not the actual photograph of the house, obviously, but it was smoky.

Firefighters came by in 10 minutes to 15 minutes. They took a bit longer because they couldn't figure out my address.

Jeff Foxworthy's voice came up in my mind's ear, "You know when you are a redneck when... you live in a house that shares the same address, 5555, and 5555 1/2." Who else does that?!

Fortunately, the fire issue was resolved. The only blooper was the melted oven knob, and yellowed counter which was white before. Easy-Off Oven Cleaner was my best friend at that time. So was baking soda and water paste. It took the soot off. It just took up my evening, eating pizza and scrubbing the kitchen.

Google just was my remedy for my accidents, because I was able to figure out how to take the soot off from google search results.

Unfortunately, it doesn't end right there.

Meet Dirk, the Dryer... Dirk the Dryer, meet my Mrs. Paulson blog readers.

Now, we are associated with one another.
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I'll allow Dirk the Dryer to tell the story.

"Thank you, Mrs. Paulson. Now, I was doing my duties faithfully, drying all clothes that my friend, Wendy the Washer has washed. However, after this one fateful load, I felt that there was something wrong with my load. So, my friend, Chelsea, checked me. Sure enough. She sees this."

"PINK CLOTHES! However, I know Chelsea didn't add red clothing in this pile, but it became pink for some reason. So Chelsea investigated where the source may be."

"Man, my insides were messed up. See, I look like I suffered war within myself, cancer from doing my duties faithfully!"

"That was THE SOURCE! Construction marking crayon from roommate's load of laundry!"

"As you can see in the picture, the crayon on the right was "before" while the crayon on the left was the "after" effect of a trip in my insides," sighed Dirk the Dryer.

"Fortunately, there was something called "Google", Chelsea googled on how to remove crayon from the dryer, and she noticed many other people who had the similiar bloopers as she had, she felt less alone in this situation. Google suggested WD-40 with magic eraser. Chelsea started scrubbing, using the called ingredients, then used a clean magic eraser with no oil residue to remove the remaining crayon marks. It kind of tickles when she scrubbed, removing the cancerous crayon marks."

"That was the end result, I feel so healthy again, and I can continue doing my duties as a faithful dryer!"

Dirk did a wonderful job with this load. It looks more white now.

There is a hope for this newlywed wife, after all, finding solutions for my bloopers here and there.

Life goes by rahter quickly....

Speaking from a perspective of this early retiree...

Yes, I haven't worked at a job full-time (I am neglecting the job that I've had for 22 years, being the farmer's daughter, that's the full time job plus several overtimes.) and I am already considering myself an early retiree.

Wait, wait, wait. Allow me to explain myself.

I just graduated from college, I just finished my gig as a student teacher at two different placements.

Now, I have been finding several different things to keep myself busy. Hosting "Rachel's Party!", attending bridal showers (five thus far from March 14); rekindling my hobby as digital scrapbooking.

But, good news! I just got hired as a transition teacher at Idaho School for the Deaf, so I'll be stepping down from my retirement status to start contributing back to the society for the next thirty plus years.

Oh, the hardest part is jumping off the board...

This entry is excerpted from, "Eight Lessons Becoming the Great Teacher You Already Are":

3. It’s not the dive that gets you, it’s the diving board.

Years ago, I was watching the Olympic high diving finals. One diver launched himself into the air and twisted, turned, and somersaulted in an incredible series of mid-air gyrations before settling into the water like it was butter. Not a ripple. Afterward, in an interview, he was asked to comment on what he thought was the hardest element in his long, complex, dangerous dive. Without hesitation he said, “Oh, the hardest part is jumping off the board.”

Students notice when you dare to jump off the board. They know the difference between “live” teaching and teaching that feels distinctly like it was “recorded at an earlier time.” Students know when you are present and engaged, willing to take on the unexpected; they also know when you have checked out and when you are playing it safe. What makes great teaching scary is leaping off into space and not being sure that things will fall (or you will fall) quite the way you hoped.

I believe that is why there is an element of courage in the finest teaching, a required particle of risk, an earnest hope that you will be able to execute everything you need to do to reach the end of class effectively, arrive at your goals successfully, and exit the classroom in one pedagogical piece. An instinctive awareness of this risk-taking is reflected in the tiny flicker of apprehension that often accompanies the most experienced (and, often, the best) teachers on the first day of a new class.

This nervousness is a gut recognition that, if we want to do well, we will probably have to take a chance, and that we will have to make the running leap we have made so often before. Of course, this sense of risk is accompanied and heightened by our memories of the belly flops and unintentional cannonballs in the past. But once we are in the air, if we know what we are doing and luck is on our side, for a minute or two we fly—and it is our courage that enables our flight.

Boy. Isn't that the truth!? As I can say, I've officially taught for 20 weeks (including observation and the sweat-producing act of teaching), I have been noticing that basically ANYONE can be a teacher.

However, it takes a little more gusto, nerve of steel, gall, vigor... to be THE teacher. Kiss a worksheet goodbye, and find yourself asking your students to pull out a blank notebook, and trying to juice up a discussion according to Bloom's Taxonomy.

Easy?

Try doing that with seventeen 11 and 12 years olds.

They seemed to lose their vocal chords, despite the fact that they HAD it when they were putting their winter wear away in the coatroom, rather loudly.

"OK, students, please think of ways you can continue the discussion between yourself and your peer, I want you to continue the discussion and keep it engaging."

*distant thudding* You can HEAR their vocal cords dropping down to their stomachs. Not willing to participate.

Oh, the hardest part is jumping off the board.... to make the students think critically, applying the 21st century style.