--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
When we moved to Alaska, we became grown-ups. I didn't go to a whole lot of parties as a college kid (okay, 2. I went to 2.), but these thirty-something parties are exactly the kind I started going to in Alaska when I was 23.
Examples: You gather coats/bags and put them in a bedroom or on a *gasp* coatrack.
You get mad when you catch a guest doing the dishes for you.
That there^ is how you know you're an adult.
-------------------------------------------
I'm almost ready to take my *annual* break from Facebook. People have started announcing what they're thankful for (...like we don't already know that you're thankful for your husband, right?). I've already deleted it from my phone.Plus, there's those lately who have been posting every single Instagram photo on Facebook. If I wanted to see that, I'd follow you on Instagram.
I admit this is from that buzzfeed link about. I love it though, and it fits.
--------------------------------------------------------------
I had a harrowing experience at the grocery store this past week and, surprisingly, it wasn't at Wal-Mart.
I went to the commissary and, as I was leaning into the milk case to get a carton of almond milk, a 3 year-old rammed a full cart into the door going full speed from several feet away. I felt like I'd just hit a windshield with my head. The kid didn't care. He will be a holy terror on some elementary school (probably mine) in a couple of years. The mom must have been high (you'd probably have to be with a kid like that) and she half-heartedly apologized while by-standers asked if I was okay. I didn't really accept her apology and, honestly, I probably should've started yelling at her. I did complain at the front of the store and they knew exactly what kid/mom I was talking about because they'd been watching him inflict his demonic-like behavior for the last 30 minutes.
I was flabbergasted because my puppy has better manners than that mom and kid put together. It's not that I can't believe that's true (Scout having better manners and whatnot), but because I don't understand how that could be possible. My dog eats his own poop. He's not human.
Before you politely disagree with me over my non-Jesus-like words/behavior and before I get some you're-not-a-mother-you-don't-understand eyerolls, this is what my head looks like.
Speaking of bodily harm...
I get incredibly nervous when I have to reload a stapler. It just feels dangerous.
I've discovered that the stapler is the one tool a teacher cannot do without. I use it for everything. I used it more in Alaska, where I had straight-up bulletin board walls. Here, most of the walls are cinderblock. It's inconvenient.
Which reminds me...I owe you classroom pictures.
Here's the before:
That's what I walked into 4 days before I started teaching
Anything I've done HAS to be an improvement, right?
Speaking of school...
The other day, the more intelligent and worldly children started saying "Awkwarrrrrrrd" in response to things other kids said.
There's a lot of things I say at school that you'd never hear me utter in real life. "KHFOOTY!"..Keep Hands Feet Other Objects To Yourself...comes out a couple of times a day. (I didn't make it up, the school did.)
But, "IF I hear one more person say "Awkwarrrrrrrrd", there will be a phone call home and you WILL move your clip down, doyouunderstand?" is a new one.
