I want to know who in our district decided to schedule Halloween and Parent-Teacher conferences in the same ding dang week. And school. What's with the school?!!
It's chaos, I tell you. The kids are all hopped up on sugar, I'm all hopped up on sugar, and no one can concentrate.
Okay, I can't concentrate. There's so much talking, talking, talking, and no quiet.
That's one of the hazards of working with children. Incessant talking.
Incessant talking at school, incessant talking at home, incessant talking in my dreams for crying out loud.
Stinkerbell is eight right now, and I've dubbed eight as The Year of Incessant Talking. I was reminded of The Year Zoe Bug Didn't Shut Up this evening when The Stink was recounting a very long story about an art project she had done in her class today, with step-by-step excruciatingly detailed instructions. Her description was so detailed that I wanted to whip out my camera and document it as a tutorial that I could post on U-Tube.
Except that I would have to listen to the whole thing a second time. And as much as I love her, it was a taxing story.
I persevered by imaginary brain slapping myself to remain conscious, quietly reminding myself that I love and care for this person who is taking the time to share part of her day with me. Something I will be begging for in another five years or so when she will come home with her no-eye-contact look, reply in one word sentences usually only containing the word "fine" and probably always accompanied by the My-Mom-is-So-Lame acrobatic eye roll.
The thought just sent shivers down my spine so I'm going to go upstairs and ask The Stink to tell it to me again.
Dang it. She's asleep.
I think it's ironic that I became a teacher so I could boss people around and make them listen to me talk.
The irony is killing me.
So . . . idioms.
This was my Halloween costume this year. Man, I look tired. It's the talking . . . it's wearing me down. The chef's hat looking thing is really a light bulb. Not a Bright Idea light bulb, but like my shirt says, The Light at the End of the Tunnel.
I thought it would be hysterical to have Girl Genius make me a t-shirt that said this:
DUE TO RECENT CUTBACKS,
THE LIGHT AT THE END OF THE
TUNNEL HAS BEEN TURNED OFF
Perhaps it is in poor taste, but it makes me giggle.
It was also the perfect opportunity to turn an idiom into a nice visual for the kids. Idioms are hard to teach. It's a little like teaching people how to get a punch line. It's an acquired skill.
It's a joke . . . . Get it? The light? It was turned off. It's the light at the end of the tunnel. The beacon in the night. Somebody turned it off to save money. Ha. Ha Ha. Ha. Get it?
Sometimes you have to beat people over the head with a punchline, so in keeping with that potentially sad outcome, we made Idiom Cootie Catchers. They're all the rage in the sixth grade.
So what if they usually predict who you will marry, how many kids you will have, and whether you will drive a minivan or a skateboard.
Here's the kitteh my title refers to. Zoe Bug wanted to be a cat for Halloween this year. It's so fitting for her personality. My sweet little kitty cat.
Stinkerbell went as a Ninja with many pointy knives. She wanted to get a big swoopy looking knife, but Peanut Head put his foot down and told her that Ninjas don't have Broadswords, they have Katanas.
I had to run upstairs to get the technical blah, blah about the knives. Swords. Whatever.
And I know that Sheryl Crow sings about the guns you can buy at Walmart, but I'm here to tell you that they don't sell Katanas.
And please forgive me here, but why for the love of Peter Pan does it really matter? It's just a Halloween costume. She's not going to be slaying any dragons or anything like that.
The best she could hope for is to sever Zoe Bug's tail from her bum. And that would totally be cheating because it was a Velcro-attached tail.
Not that Stinkerbell didn't do it anyway. Again, Peanut Head is so proud.