card tricks against humanity

Sometimes teaching can make you want to tear your hair out. And other times, it just makes you laugh.

Early this year, one of my students asked to use my deck of cards after he finished a test.  (Being a probability/statistics teacher, I always have a deck of cards. It is especially helpful when it is revealed that your students don't know what a spade is or how many cards are in a suit - and in that case, how can you be exasperated when they can't determine the probability of drawing an ace? You can't. Exactly.)

I said yes, sure, just be quiet and keep them to yourself. I watched him practice card tricks in the back of class, and later collected the tests.  Several days later, I cleaned out my desk drawer and discovered that all I had left of the deck of cards was the flimsy box they came in. And two jokers, of course. Also directions to some card game no one ever plays.

Bottom line: they had been stolen. 

Well...the student had neglected to return them. I'll put it that way.  This happens daily with pens, pencils, folders, calculators and basically anything else I leave on my desk.  I mentally cursed the student for taking them, and promptly forgot all about it.

A week or so later, I had to correct the student several times in class for doing magic tricks; he used pencils and coins and paperclips, and yes, playing cards.  But I honestly did not connect the dots for a very long while. Obviously they were the same cards, but I was so busy with teacher life that my teacher brain refused to put 2 and 2 together. Which is ironic, because I am a math teacher (and getting really good at quick mental math).
 I called his mother and told her about the magic interrupting class,and she assured me he wouldn't be doing it any more. And for the most part he didn't.

Anyway, here's where the story gets funny.

I talked to another one of his teachers, and we discussed his class performance, behavior, etc., and she told me he was still doing magic tricks.

"Really?" I said, "he stopped doing them in my class. I called his mom, and since then I haven't seen him do it once."
"Yeah," she said. "I called her too. But he's still doing it. She said if I see him with the cards again to take them from him and not give them back."

I laughed, with amusement, and a bit of relief.  After months, I would get my cards back! Nice day. Wouldn't even have to go to the dollar store. I started to tell her they were really my cards - thinking she would get a kick out of the story-

"So I took them," she continued, "and went to the trash, tore them in half, and threw them away. Every last one."

...
I realize after a second my mouth was still open to tell my story. and the smile is frozen on my face.

"I realize it was a bit much, but I was sick of those magic tricks. And his mom told me to take them, so..." She smiles.
I laugh weakly, and murmur something about it getting old and it was probably a good thing. heh. heh.


Looks like I have to go to the dollar store after all. 

excerpts from grading

I was feeling a little down  today. Down on teaching, and down on my mission - to SAVE every student in the world. It's a tough gig, teaching, especially when you, like me, believe that every student can learn, it's just a matter of motivation and engagement.  Especially tough when you realize that the motivation and engagement all has to come from you. You're not teaching if they're not learning.

But then I started grading papers and I was cheered up a bit:

assignment: develop a research question for an observational study.

• "Q: Who smoke more weed boys or girls? 

• Observe different teens and see who smoke the most.

• (I) go to four middle schools four high schools and observe 16 classes by getting a well-known jock to ask his/her peers about it and then I sit in on the conversations and take notes."

question (on a quiz!): explain how you would use simple random sampling to choose your sample group.

"I would take a group of people (mostly girls) and play spin the bottle with them. That would be considered random sampling wouldn't it."

BONUS question: for four points, list at least four X-men and the mutant powers associated with each.

"Black widow - turns black and disappears;  X-man - has claws out of his fingers"

"Never seen X-men, but I think I know the girl is stretchable, there is a fire man guy, a strong guy, and then a superfast guy."

"Wolverine = claws, Jade = psycho, Storm = weather, Wheelchair Man = physic powers"

Stay tuned for more gems. :)

dozers

The last time I wrote, I was a baby teacher nearing the middle of her training in Chicago.   Now I am a baby teacher looking back on her first month of teaching in a real live public school to real live children.
At least I think most of them are alive...they're pretty good at sleeping with their heads propped up, so for all I know, they could be dead.  But then again, they do leave like quick little bunnies when the bell rings, so there goes that theory.

Alright, so my students aren't all sleeping though my classes.  There are a few who have gotten away with sleeping if they prop their head on a binder- OH WAIT. No they didn't. Newsflash: teachers can SEE YOU. You're not fooling anyone just because you're not drooling on your desk.
Although, I do have one student who kinda roosts himself into his chest like a mama owl and falls asleep sitting up perfectly straight, most of the time with a pencil in his hand, poised on the paper. It's amazing.  Once he fell asleep during a quiz, and I debated just letting him snooze his way to a zero...but then I felt bad, so I rapped on his desk, and he carried on writing as if nothing had happened.

...So I just thought I would share my thoughts so far, maybe a few anecdotes, so that those of you who read this every once in a while will know what I've been up to.

I made it through my first whole month of teaching! The days go by faster now (they always go by much much faster than they did when I was a student) and that is partially because the feeling that I am drowning is dissipating day by day. Yay!  It's also because the school day is not very long at all: due to budget cuts, my teaching day goes from

7:30 AM (high schoolers love that) to 1:45 PM.

 Yup.  My kids get out of school everyday before 2:00. So when they fall asleep in my 7th period class, I can say to them "just wait 20 more minutes! then you can take a 4 hour nap and still wake up in time for dinner!"  It also makes their "I didn't have time to do my homework"-excuse really weak.

soundbites:

it's the bangs. it's always the bangs.

• (male) Student:  "Ms D, I figured out who you look like. You look like Carly Rae."  Me: "Who? I don't think I know who that is."  Student:  "You know, (sings) before you came into my life I missed you so bad! I missed you so so bad/ So call me maybe! you know?"  Me: "Yes, but I am oh-so-glad you just sang that out loud."

• (female) Student: "Ms. D, can I make up the work I missed this week? I was in jail."  
• I don't even know what it was for, and I didn't ask.  All I said was "Sure. We did 3.7-3.9 in your workbook. Bring it to me tomorrow"

More to come soon!

you really got me

Charleston now has a Forever 21 on King St. This bugs me a lot. They put it where there used to be a Saks, and I think the trade significantly influenced the overall feel of downtown shopping. I felt the same way when they put in a Rack Room Shoes where the Banana Republic used to be. It's just... tacky. King St is not cheap tacky, it's rich tacky. Like Tommy Bahama and Lilly Pulitzer.

Now, I don't shop at these places. That's not why it bugs me. I barely shop at all. The most I ever do is gaze into the windows at perfectly dressed mannequins and wish I had more money to throw around. Sometimes I walk in and check the clearance racks while trying to avoid the attention of the people working in the store. And still more frequently, I simply walk past each store and think about which character from Arrested Development the clothes would most suit. GOB. Lindsey. Lucille. George Michael.

When Forever 21 opened they had a free gift card promotion, so it was impossible to get into the first week. But when I finally let myself wander in there (cheap clothes! even if they do tend to fall apart and have a horrible return policy) I was astounded. It is at least THREE times bigger than the one at the mall near my house. There is a section for about five or six different "looks" including what appears to be "Americana," hobo-chic, "nautical," and neon spray paint. They have a men's section and a kids section. They have enough shoes to shoe an army of overlarge centipedes. It is, in a word, overwhelming.

The first time I went was simply a reconnaissance mission. I wandered around for a bit and left. The check out line was at least 50 people long. I wish I were exaggerating.

On Friday my mitten-quotes professor had too many technical difficulties trying to get the projector to work, so he let us out of class early. About 40 minutes early.

I decided to take a walk on this beautiful Friday morning, and found myself down at Forever 21. I puttered around for a bit, looking and touching and trying and pricing. I remembered hearing someone tell me that all these clothes are cheap because they are made by poor little children in cramped sweat shops, and I looked at the items in my hands and thought I can't buy these, that would be awful. Then I remembered what Kala told me after I talked to her about the sweat shop kids (awesome band name? or too evil?): "Maybe if you buy more of the clothes, they can pay the kids more money!"

So on that faulty logic, I left having purchased a new shirt and some cute slip-on shoes.


Later that day, while wearing my new cuteness, I got whistled at by some douchey-looking guys at Andolini's. I didn't know whether to be flattered, creeped out or indignant. It's just something that happens when you put a pizza place next to the school gym/weight room: the guys get hungry after a workout and surge with "I-can-conquer-the-world" endorphins/adrenaline and "Oh-look-at-that-chick" testosterone. It was really funny to hear them try to whistle as I walked past. It came out more like whewpppthhpoooppthh.

Question to the male species: Why do you do this? Do you expect me to hear the whistle, turn around, and say "Oh, that was for me? Thank you. You look cute as well. Let's date. May I sit on your lap while you hang out with your equally repugnant male friends? You sure do know how to get a lady."

total eclipse

So this might sound lame, but I am confused and saddened because I am not seeing the new Twilight movie at midnight.

Wait, wait, hear me out:

The movie saga started when I was starting my freshman year at CofC, when I was fresh from a summer of inhaling these novels like sweet sweet oxygen. I was glad to find other people, like my new roommates, who were equally excited, and we bought tickets and saw the movie at midnight at Palmetto Grande theater in Mount Pleasant.

I mention that because most people don't believe me when I say we don't have a movie theater on the peninsula. We don't. Movie nights are a rarity because of the money, gas, time and coordination required. Remember, college students are first and foremost lazy sacks of nothing.

So early into my college career, I embarked with new friends on a special night out to see the first installment at midnight. I then saw it a few more times, once literally kidnapping someone and stealing them away to the theater.

The next movie came out and some more friends came, as well as the original group. Something about waiting for hours in a line to see a movie you may regret the next morning (simply because of the showtime, not the quality) really bonds people together.

So it is with some sadness that I realize that tonight will pass without incident. Without joining a now traditional group for a new movie. Even though I may not have the same level of enthusiasm I did two years ago, I feel weird being at home surrounded by family instead of in a crowded theater surrounded by horny teenage girls. But that's life.

...so if someone wants to see it tomorrow, I'm in.

a typical night home

So I am left home with my brothers tonight while my parents are out at some country club function with relatives. They took the good car and abandoned me with Ryan. So let me tell you what that means:

Ryan is a thirteen year old boy. And for any of you who ever wondered "what is the worst age for a younger brother to be?" you would have your answer in the number 13.
He is helpful and considerate at his best, but usually spends his time farting, muttering sarcastic comments in a stage whisper, or trying to break my fingers.
Right now he is playing a video game. Which means I don't hear much from him except the occasional overly loud groans and the deep thud of his foot hitting the wall. In a while, either his eyes will be tired or he will get fed up with a level he can't beat and he will come looking for a fight. Or possibly to watch Buffy. I can never anticipate which way it's going to go.

Luckily, I also have to pick up Sean from work soon, so that at least adds another element to this hormonal puzzle that could either result in a pleasant evening bonding with my brothers over a movie, or stomping upstairs and doors slamming.

Let's see, shall we?

skank robbers

Stereotyping is bad. I hope no one is offended that I said that. If you are, I don't want to hear about it. Technically, stereotypes aren't necessarily negative. I know this because we had to learn the distinction between the words estereotipo and prejuicio (prejudice) in three of my last five years of Spanish. The fact of the matter is that stereotypes make generalizations about groups of people, be it by race or gender or age.

I introduced this concept because I have recently been revelling in beating stereotypes. I love it. I love being a girl who knows her Star Wars and being from the South without being an uneducated hick. I love when the old ladies see me at church or in adoration and think "wow. there's a good one. you don't see many like her. it's great to see young people so involved" (alright, I can't read thoughts, but trust me, they say it with their eyes and when they smile and go back to their rosaries). I love watching the shows on MTV and congratulating myself for turning 18 without getting pregnant or owning a stripper pole. These are all great things.

Unfortunately, it's not so great when that image I'm trying to avoid (the "damn teenagers!" image) does not get to be proven wrong. Such as traffic jams or stop signs or just about any occasion I am behind the wheel. I am a decent driver. I've never been in an accident (at lease not one with two moving cars) and my mom has stopped gripping the dashboard every time she rides with me. However, make one awkward maneuver on your way back from the grocery store and you get honked at by some balding golfer who can be seen screaming obscenities at you from the comfort of his air conditioned Lexus. He is clearly thinking "crazy teenagers!" or "damn woman" or maybe even "I knew Obama supporters can't drive! they should be banned from the streets!" or one of the many stereotypical excuses he could use to explain my driving.

Worse still, sometimes there is just too much distance to fully explain oneself. example: At the beginning of the summer, I nannied for my aunt after her back surgery. This included carrying her 3 month old daughter around the house, walking the 7 yr old home from school etc. I mentioned before being proud of myself for not being a teen mother as I'm sure any alien race or foreign body assumes is about a 50 50 chance among my generation. However, when people stare at you in Target, you don't get a chance to say "Hey! She's not mine! I swear! I am not a skank!" Hence, the stereotype goes unchecked.

I used to welcome stereotypes as a challenge. A bar to rise above, a way to surprise people older than me who assume I'm just like the girls on Gossip Girl or worse, Bret Michaels' Rock of Love.

Now I give up. I can't surprise everyone. I've decided I'll make everyone else do the work to find out about me instead of wearing a shirt that says "I swear I'm not a Myspace ho."

what ever happened to girl power?

If you ever have any doubts about the whacked out gender roles present in the Twilight saga, see here.

Last night I surfed the web to my fullest extent, using all my resources to find free episodes of Buffy the Vampire Slayer online. I know, lame. But it is summer and that is just what I do. Besides watch iCarly and sew, apparently. Try as I might, I could not find seasons four through seven anywhere. Looks like I'm going to have to expend energy walking or driving somewhere, or even restarting my Netflix (or sneaking onto my parents') to watch those elusive episodes. Unfortunately, I don't think I want them that bad. Pardon my digression. The point is that I have been craving some vampire slayage lately. While perusing channels today I happened upon our rather newly acquired HBO channels (for free!) and two minutes before it starts, I find the movie: Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Nuff said.
So, of course I watched it. I heated up some leftover mac n' cheese, poured some iced tea and settled down to, well, a rather bogus movie (to use the vernacular of the day, which happens to be 1992). I could blabber about differences, draw up a Venn diagram, but I know no one wants to read that. Basically, Joss Whedon is a genius and somehow turned a pretty comical concept into a kick ass TV series. The keys to this transformation, I believe, are dropping Donald Sutherland (or rather, killing him), changing the actress, and most importantly COMPLETELY redesigning the vampires. Sure, getting rid of the creepy Watcher (Sutherland) who I think betrayed her in the end- it's all a bit fuzzy, and I finished watching it less than an hour ago- was a wise choice but the success lies in the last two components.


Sarah Michelle Gellar is amazing. You believe that she could take down any demony bad guy and still make somewhat witty remarks while doing it. You even don't mind that she's dumb, a trait too many TV characters make a weakness and not an endearing character flaw. You want to be her, or her friend, and you even want to hang out in the library with her and the Scooby gang. She works.

The vampires are of course key to the success of the show. Making them almost goofy with pointy ears and lame hissing sounds perhaps led to the lack-luster ratings on the silver screen. Of course, adding a lion roar and squishing their faces when they "vamp-up" always seemed a bit comical to me, but I wouldn't want to meet any of them in a dark alley. The Pee Wee Herman look-alike from the movie, however...let's just say he got his arm ripped off by a non-slayer. Not so tough.

This brings me back to Twilight. Within the teen romance snow globe that is the "twiverse," vampires that sparkle, don't have to be invited in (uh, he watched her sleep... for months), have color changing eyes like Del Sol nail polish, and who can't be killed by anything except another vampire (or possibly a werewolf that isn't really a werewolf) may seem almost normal. within the gaze of Edward Cullen, all logic and sense melts away. I know because it happened to me. But simply watching this video (top) shows just how much of a creeper he really is. It's quite sad that nearly all of America- or the entire world- thinks he's the perfect guy.

These books, which I enjoyed along with everyone else, display some of the worst gender roles I've seen since I don't know, Wuthering Heights. Bella is the classic damsel, only twice as clumsy and three times as stupid. She fell in love with a vampire. Not just any vamp either, but an overbearing, overprotective, bordering on abusive, sparkling maniac. The fact that so many teens worship him as a character and Robert Pattinson, who represents all the unwashed creepy awkward kids you ignored in high school, is ridiculous.

To sum up, I wish Buffy were still on the air so that these now vampire obsessed teens and tweens could be exposed to a true heroine and positive role model, and not some lusty brown-eyed girl who constantly underestimates her own beauty and falls for the first guy who treats her like sh*t.