If you’re feeling bad, gather a roomful of 7th graders and pass out the Fruit Roll-Ups that have press-on tongue tattoos. In case you ever wondered: 7th graders are totally not too old for a good tongue tattoo.
These kids are so sweet and fun. I hope they’re just as sweet when they’re protected by a computer screen, shrouded in anonymity.
This comment stopped me in my tracks today on an online entertainment website: “Her voice sounds like screaming — it’s so annoying! I’ve never liked her! And she still looks like that even while working out twice a day?”
I had been scrolling through the comments of an article about a singer who just two years ago had tried to take her own life. She was now feeling happy, healthy, and back on track. In the article, the singer lit up about her kids, pilates, and other things that replenished her joie de vivre. It was a celebration. I was enjoying the sweet well wishes from her fans.
And then, like a punch to the gut: screaming . . . annoying . . . never liked her . . .
Listen, I don’t care what opinions you hold (unless they’re truly unacceptable: racism, sexism, a penchant for arson. You know.) You can like what singers you like. Detest each and every note of the singers you don’t like. That’s your business.
But stop being mean on the internet. No, really. STOP BEING MEAN ON THE INTERNET.
Remind yourself to THINK: Ask yourself, “Is it True, is it Helpful, does it Inspire, is it Necessary, is it Kind?” Sometimes we do have to say the hard stuff to help our friends, to stand up for what’s right. But that hateful comment that picked at everything from the singer’s voice to her weight was far from necessary. It was at best disrespectful and at worst, possibly destructive.
I know you’ll say: “Just don’t ever read the comments!” That’s my rule, too, but I break it far too often and always regret it. In fact, I can’t wait until online media outlets realize they shouldn’t include comment sections at all — that format inspires so much nastiness. Maybe comment sections provide an outlet for all the hateful, evil feelings we keep under wraps during our polite daily lives. The problem is that we don’t need to feed that part of ourselves, and doing so by venting on the internet is not without consequences.
Kim Kardashian might never see you talking about how you think that dress looks on her, but what do you gain by snarking about it?
And more importantly, what do you lose? What do the people that see your comment lose? Do they lose heart about what people think and won’t say to their face? Do they lose hope that people are really kind and good at heart? Do they lose confidence as they wonder what a stranger would say about how their own outfit looks today?
I always say that you can send positivity or negativity out into the world. Either way, you’re altering the balance. Maybe just the slightest bit — the weight of one snide remark in a comment section — but it counts. I know I’m not perfect, but I try. And I think it’s time for all of us to try a little harder. Will you?
* * *
And now a little online positivity for us all: stuffed mushrooms! I love the fluffy ricotta and rich tomato sauce layered into traditional lasagna, but don’t always need the carb count from the noodles. These stuffed mushrooms are filling, hearty, and delicious. Double the recipe for a quick and easy dinner.
What’s your “policy” for yourself about how you behave and chat online?
Lasagna, stuffed into mushrooms. Simply fantastic.
Ingredients:
2 large portobello mushroom caps
3 tablespoons olive oil
kosher salt and freshly ground pepper
1/2 link hot Italian sausage
6 tablespoons tomato pasta sauce*
3/4 cup whole milk ricotta cheese
1/2 egg (lightly beat it, then discard half)
1 tablespoon fresh chopped basil
1/2 teaspoon fresh chopped rosemary
2 cloves roasted garlic**, smashed
freshly grated mozzarella and pecorino romano cheese, to taste **I bought mine from the specialty grocer, but you can roast a head yourself using this guide — you won’t believe the sweet, mild flavor. You can use raw, but use less, because raw garlic is much hotter, spicier, and obnoxious. Not that there’s anything wrong with that!
*I just used a jarred brand I love.
Directions:
Preheat the oven to 425 degrees F. Clean the mushroom caps by brushing gently with a wet brush. Remove the stems from mushrooms and gently remove gills with a spoon. Brush each mushroom with a tablespoon of olive oil and sprinkle with a pinch of kosher salt and a grind of pepper. Roast for 15-20 minutes (depending on the size of the mushroom) or until they are nicely roasted but still holding their general shape.
While the mushrooms roast, heat 1 tablespoon of olive oil over medium-high heat in a medium skillet. Remove the casing of the Italian sausage with a sharp knife and cook the crumbles until browned. Place the sausage on a paper towel lined plate to drain.
Let the mushrooms cool until they can be handled. Drain any excess moisture from the caps. In a small bowl, mix the ricotta cheese, half a lightly beaten egg, basil, rosemary, 1/4 teaspoon of kosher salt, and a grind or two of pepper. Spoon 1-2 tablespoons of pasta sauce into each mushroom cap and top with a smashed garlic clove and a generous heap of the ricotta mixture. Press half of the Italian sausage into the ricotta mixture on each mushroom and top with another tablespoon or two of pasta sauce, a generous sprinkle of Mozzarella cheese, and another small grind of pepper. Place the mushrooms back into the oven until the ricotta mixture is set and the cheese is melted and bubbly, about 10 minutes. Serve immediately.
I know some of you are going to say, “Well, yeah, obviously,” to this little recipe (if it can be called that), but I felt pretty smooth when I thought it up last night. I had a can of tomato parmesan soup that I usually enjoy, but I didn’t feel like eating it alone. I also didn’t particularly feel like cooking anything fancy. With a few little add-ins, I dressed up the soup into a hearty dinner. I plan to do the same tonight with my favorite spinach Florentine jarred tomato sauce.
Please serve it with a bright salad and crusty bread, since these items were sorely missed on my table. I had to forego sauce-sopping for sauce-scraping with a spoon, which was not nearly as effective.
That’s all for today — a quick note with a quick little “recipe” I enjoyed. Hope you do, too.
This is more of an idea or suggestion than a recipe — swap ingredients as you like to make your own little quick and dirty supper on the fly. I’d serve this with a bright arugula salad dressed with lemon juice and olive oil and plenty of crusty bread with softened butter and sea salt.
Ingredients:
a tomato sauce or soup that you really love*
some garlic, basil, olive oil, and chili flakes to dress up the tomato sauce
3-4 eggs
a little cream (optional)
grated cheese (I used Gruyère that I had on hand, but choose one you love)
salt and pepper *Note: I used a tomato parmesan canned soup, but I’m also going to try this with my favorite spinach Florentine jarred tomato sauce. Make sure you already enjoy the taste of it, since it’ll be the primary flavor. I don’t think it would’ve been nearly as good with one of those watery tomato soups you ate with grilled cheese as a kid. If you want to make a tomato sauce from scratch, I suggest this super quick one. *Note 2: I bet some crispy bacon or pancetta crumbles and a dollop of sour cream on top of this would be fantastic.
Directions:
Preheat the oven to 400 degrees F. Pour your tomato sauce or soup into an oven-safe skillet (but not cast iron like I did, because apparently it can strip the seasoning — oops!) and dress it up with garlic, basil, olive oil, and chili flakes to taste. Crack eggs over the bed of tomato sauce. Pour a little cream on each egg, salt and pepper the whole dish, and bake for 20 minutes or so until the whites are cooked but the yolks are still runny. Sprinkle grated cheese over the top and bake for just a minute or so more for it to melt. Serve immediately with a salad and crusty bread (I ate/scooped it straight out of the skillet, as I am wont to do.)
There are lots of stories to tell right now. But I don’t want to tell any of them. Reality does not suit me at the moment. Instead, I will tell you a different sort of story.
Something that gives me hope and joy lately is the little Writing Club that meets in my classroom each Thursday. One of my students, Aubrey, started this club of her own initiative. She plans lessons each week and leads a handful of her fellow students through creative writing exercises. Then they share what they’ve written and scamper off to their homes. Last week they created a superhero and wrote a story about him. Another week they listened to songs and wrote stories inspired by them.
The only week (so far) that I’ve been able to participate in the writing exercise was the first week. That week, they came up with a list of ten random words and then wrote a story with them. The words were:
persnicketyflummoxed
flabbergasted
pumpernickel
cockroachbanana
chapstick
backpackanimal crackersgrocery
Here’s the story I came up with:
The sun was dying. I sat on the last patch of grass on the last hunk of dirt on the last chunk of Earth. Just me and the cockroach. I pulled out my chapstick and slathered it on my sunburned lips. For the millionth time since the war, I wished for a grocery store. I wasn’t persnickety, but the weevils I dug out of the moist earth each day for my meager meals were infinitely less satisfying than a plump banana, a pack of animal crackers, or a slice of freshly baked pumpernickel bread. I found myself thinking of my grandmother. I would never see her again. I would never see any of them again.
It was a Tuesday — not that that meant anything anymore — the 159th day since the end of the war, according to the notes I’d been keeping religiously on my arm with a sharpie I’d found in the bottom of my torn backpack. I was flabbergasted to see the sun rise over my tiny vestige of Earth. It was bright red, hot with the anger of death I recognized from my memory: I’d seen so many of the Frontier soldiers fall with that same anger, combusting in their hearts as their bodies combusted literally, smouldering in a spray of enemy fire. There’s only one thing that sun could mean: it was almost time.
I looked down at the cockroach, my only friend left in the world. I might have been imagining it, but he looked just as flummoxed as me at the sight of our dying star. I let him crawl up into my hand and held him, my tiny family, while the heat grew stronger and stronger. Soon it would become too much for us. Soon, my little friend would perish. Then finally, I, too, would be consumed: the last of the human race.
Apparently when given words such as banana, animal crackers, and chapstick, my first thought is doom and destruction. This reminds me of my 7th grade student who, while doing a word association with the word marigolds, first thought of the word “death.” I kid you not. That little girl is basically a younger version of me.
Anyway, since I don’t love any of my real-life stories right now (or at least, not at this particular point in their plot arch), I thought I’d share that one.
…And some stuffed mushrooms, which are much more cheerful. I think we need some cheer after all that. Well good news: these were basically the highlight of my week. They’re luxurious (cream! mushrooms! leeks! Gruyère!), indulgent, and altogether such a delicious, hearty way to start the day. The two forks may suggest that someone shared these with me, but I’m going to admit that I ate them both myself and was not sorry.
Now it’s your turn to tell a story. Write a mini-story using these 5 words: disco, poodle, tangerine, shallow, and rutabaga.
Who says you can’t have stuffed mushrooms for breakfast? These giant portobello mushroom caps are stuffed with a caramelized leek scramble and topped with melty Gruyère cheese.
Ingredients:
2 large portobello mushroom caps
2 tablespoons plus 2 teaspoons olive oil, divided
1-2 leeks
1/2 teaspoon kosher salt and few grinds pepper, divided
1 teaspoon minced shallots
1 tablespoon cream
1 tablespoon butter (Plugra or Kerrygold or another European brand is great if you have it)
1/4 cup grated Gruyère cheese (or Fontina, Swiss, Parmesan)
4 eggs
Directions:
Preheat the oven to 425 degrees F. Clean the leeks: Slice off the tough, dark green top and the root and discard. Slice the leek lengthwise down the middle. Then slice horizontally into thin half-moons. Fill a bowl with cold water and place the sliced leeks in it, separating the layers with your fingers and agitating them a bit in the water. Let these sit for 1-2 minutes until the dirt and sediment trapped in the leeks has settled to the bottom. Scoop the leeks off the top of the water with a slotted spoon and place them on a bed of paper towels to blot them almost dry. Elise over at Simply Recipes has a great photo tutorial of this step.
Clean the mushroom caps by brushing gently with a wet brush. Remove the stems from mushrooms and gently remove gills with a spoon. Brush the mushrooms with 2 tablespoons olive oil and sprinkle with 1/4 teaspoon kosher salt and a couple of grinds of pepper. Roast for 15-20 minutes (depending on the size of the mushroom) or until they are nicely roasted but still holding their general shape. After you remove the mushrooms, turn the oven down to 350 degrees F.
While roasting the mushrooms, preheat a large skillet over medium-low heat. Pour in 2 teaspoons of olive oil. When the oil shimmers, add minced shallots and sauté for 30 seconds until fragrant, stirring constantly. Add the leeks and toss them to coat with oil. Sauté until they start to brown, about 15 minutes, stirring occasionally. Remove them to a paper towel-lined plate to drain for a bit.
Whisk together the eggs, cream, 1/4 teaspoon kosher salt, and a few grinds pepper really well — until there’s no more gloppiness in the eggs. Turn the skillet up to medium and let it preheat for a bit. Heat 1 tablespoon butter in it (it should sizzle but not brown). Pour in the egg mixture and scramble until the eggs are just underdone (they should still appear wet.) Add in the leeks and scramble for another few seconds. The eggs should still have the soft just-undone look but not look quite wet anymore.
Spoon equal amounts of eggs onto each roasted mushroom cap. Top both stuffed mushrooms with grated Gruyère cheese. Place the stuffed mushrooms in the oven until the cheese is melted and the eggs are just done — just a few minutes. Remove from the oven, grind on a last grind of pepper, and serve immediately.
In my childhood spelling bees, we all stood in a little line and the teacher called out words that, had we confronted them on paper, would’ve appeared totally innocuous. When tossed at our blank 6th-grade stares like a verbal grenade, however, they might as well have been spoken in Swahili. I remember wanting so badly to win the bee at least one year; I was a great writer and speller, so it only made sense that I should win, right? Each bee, though, I would realize that oral competitions had a tricky logic all their own. Before long, I’d reach the inevitable moment where the letters I’d already said and the letters I still needed to say would combine in a sticky, confusing web in my brain.
One year “eclipse” was my downfall.
The next year, “monotonous.”
Now that I’m a teacher, I’ve noticed you can learn a lot about your students during a classroom spelling bee.
For instance, I learned that Chase is very conscientious.
On his turn, he got the word “obituary.” A funny look came over his face. “Ms. Ruble, is it okay if . . . well, while I’m spelling this word, I might spell a . . .,” he struggled to complete his thought. I realized where he was going and had to stifle a laugh.
“Just spell it however you think it’s spelled and it will be fine, Chase.”
He began, “O-b-i-t-c-h–“
Once he had finished and I had corrected his spelling, we had to pause the bee for a moment. We were all laughing uncontrollably, Chase included, and I was in no position to call the next word.
I also learned that Shreena is cursed. While students around her got words like “platoon” and “pantheon,” she ended up with “hors d’oeuvres” and “delinquency.” Aubrey shook her head and patted Shreena’s shoulder sympathetically.
I want you to know that I have never in my life spelled hors d’oeuvres correctly without looking it up, and I’m the language arts teacher and a food blogger and I took 5 and a half years of French.
I also learned that Will has flair.
When he messed up the first letter of a word, instead of just giving up, he gave it the most creative alternate spelling he could come up with. I think there was a Q, Z, and even a 3 in there.
I learned that none of my students — at least, none who received the word — can spell “deodorant.” I made sure to teach them how, just in case they would otherwise have trouble finding it in the grocery store. I might have also mentioned how middle school is the ideal time to begin wearing said product if they’ve not already done so. Just a quick side lesson for good measure.
Finally, I learned that my students rock (honestly, I already knew this.) Augury, fabulist, vernal, inimitable, salubrious, compendium, and nominative are just a few of the words they spelled correctly.
The spelling bee is fun for so many reasons — not least of all because it’s a simple “lesson plan” day for me. I have a simple dinner plan waiting for me tonight, too. I first saw these little squash boats on Skinnytaste, a blog I love, and couldn’t believe what a quick and healthy dinner fix they were. I tweaked mine with a little turkey pepperoni, and now I can’t stop whipping up this dish each night. I hope you love it too.
Recipe by: Adapted from Skinnytaste
Yield: 2 servings
This baked “pasta” recipe is so quick and simple — it makes good use of the microwave and spaghetti squash to create a satisfying, comforting meal without the added calories and carbs from regular pasta. Each serving comes in around 470 calories, 45 grams net carbs (discounting the 12 grams fiber), and 24 grams of protein with a 2.5 pound squash (data from SparkPeople).
Ingredients:
1 medium/large spaghetti squash (mine was about 2.5 pounds)
30 slices turkey pepperoni, chopped (leave out for a vegetarian meal)
1 1/2 cup jarred vodka pasta sauce
3 tablespoons chopped fresh basil
about 1-2 ounces mozzarella cheese
1 teaspoon salt or to taste (less for a smaller squash)
pepper to taste
Directions:
Halve the squash and scrape out the seeds and fibers in the middle. Poke a few holes in each half. Microwave the squash, one half at a time, for 9-10 minutes each half.
Preheat the broiler. While microwaving the squash, place the chopped pepperoni, vodka sauce, basil (reserving a bit for topping), and salt and pepper in a medium bowl. When the squash is finished and has cooled for a couple of minutes, use two forks to scrape the squash flesh into the bowl (it will separate into spaghetti-like “noodles”), reserving the squash skins to serve as bowls. Mix the squash and sauce mixture well until all ingredients are distributed. Divide this mixture into your two squash bowls.
Top each squash half with mozzarella cheese and a little more freshly ground pepper. Broil for a few minutes until bubbly. Remove and top with the reserved fresh basil. Serve hot.
The teacher across the hall from me is named Julie as well. My last name is Ruble. Hers is Reulbach. We’re both have long, blonde hair and blue eyes. We’re the same height. We both blog and tweet. We’re both energetic (read: spastic) in the classroom. It’s easy to get confused.
When I saw Julie’s post on her amazing math education blog, I Speak Math, yesterday, I knew I had to write a copycat post. Her post was “A Day in the Life” post, written as part of Drawing on Math‘s initiative to show what teaching really entails. I’m not a math teacher, but I loved the idea. So here it goes.
A Day in the Life of a Language Arts Teacher
6:00 am – I wake up, stick some oatmeal in the microwave, and jump in the shower.
6:20 am – I dry my hair, doctor up my oatmeal and finally take the dog out to potty. I rush her and feel bad, but it’s hard to tell if she’s dawdling or really has to go.
6:45 am – I respond to a few emails and check the schedule while eating my oatmeal, taking my medicine, and throwing my dog’s bone a few times, hoping she’ll feel like I’ve spent some quality time with her.
7:05 am – I shuffle through the dryer for some clothes to wear. Byrd is whining because she knows I’m about to leave her — apparently the quality time trick didn’t work. I assure her that I’ll be back after school, stuff my computer and cord in its case, and grab a pack of popcorn for lunch.
7:30 am – I’m sharing “early teacher” responsibilities with Julie, so on Tuesdays and Thursdays, I’m supposed to get to school by 7:45. At this point I’m usually rushing out the door, trying not to forget a stack of papers or my keys.
7:45 am – I arrive at school and pull up my lesson plan. I write the Do Now and homework up on the board while chatting with a few students who like to come in early and spend time with me. I’d love to just have some quiet work time here, but there are always a series of small fires to put out: “The pen on the reading chart broke,” and, “I can’t find the book I’m looking for,” and of course, the dreaded, “I lost my notebook.”
8:00 am – I rush out to make copies and cut apart questions for our discussion groups today.
8:15 am – I find a nice relaxing station on iTunes radio for my first 7th grade class to listen to as they complete their 10 minute Do Now. They’re chatty today and late getting started. They also forget to stand their independent reading books up to display what they’re reading for the class. I warn them that if they can’t handle the freedom of a 7th grade Do Now, they’ll be relegated to the structured 6th grade version (which is silent and strictly enforced). Today the Do Now is a discussion reflection where they’ll think about what went well and what went poorly in their group discussions last week. They have to set 1-2 goals for themselves in today’s discussion, which is the first one they’ll receive a grade for.
8:25 am – We discuss the last few chapters of our novel, Red Scarf Girl: A Memoir of the Cultural Revolution, together. I realize as we’re describing two girls’ changes throughout China’s Cultural Revolution that it would be best represented as a double line graph, so I jump up and have the students help me create one on the board. They copy it down in their novels as a succinct portrayal of character transformation. I’m pleased with myself and have Julie Reulbach run in from her class across the hall and check out our math skillz.
8:55 am – The students share the discussion goals they created during the Do Now and start on their graded small group discussion. I observe and record grades in my grade book based on the dynamics and content of their discussions. The question is a hard one: to develop empathy, I’m having them find evidence from the text to support Communism — something they’ve been trained all their lives not to do. It’s hard to see others’ points-of-view, but even though they’ve discovered so many negatives about the system, they jump right in to figure out why some people in China thought it was a beneficial change.
9:10 am – I’m late dismissing my students because I’m quickly explaining their homework to them. They’re to scan through the chapters so far and draw symbols representing characterization and character transformation in the text. We’ll use these next week. Finally, I tell the students to do their Exit Procedure (where they clean tables, push in chairs, and usually get their agendas checked). Today I skip checking agendas and dismiss them all, wary of keeping them much longer.
9:11 am – My next 7th grade class filters in as my first one leaves, and I turn on the Do Now music. I repeat the lesson, though each class feels remarkably different due to the varying discussions.
10:05 am – I rush to dismiss my second 7th grade. Even though the 6th graders have a 10-minute break before the next class starts, they are already filtering in my room with tons of questions: Can they start their Do Now? (No, it’s not even written up on the board yet!) Is snack in my room today? (Check the schedule!) Have I ever read this awesome book? (No, but it sounds neat!)
I play-gripe at them to go outside and enjoy their break, which is my only break too. Some of them leave, but some of them dawdle, thinking that “having a question for me” is a good excuse to stay. Sigh. Especially when their questions are about books or one of their hobbies — baking, gaming, etc. — I feel bad shutting them down. After all, isn’t one of my primary goals as a teacher to build them up as people? So I listen and try to respond while scanning over my lesson plan, writing the 6th grade Do Now and homework on the board, and running through the hallway to make a few more copies (yes, they follow.)
10:15 am – My first 6th grade class of the day is already seated when I rush back in with copies. They complain that their Do Now isn’t written up (what a change from 7th grade today!) and I explain that their Do Now will be verbal today because it’s complex. I have them line up around the room and grab a Writing Log and a manila folder to staple it into. I’m the staple person, since I’ve long since learned that they will jam the stapler 8 times over before we get through the line. I staple each student’s Writing Log into the folder and they go back to their seats to sort through their portfolios. We’re preparing for Portfolio Review tomorrow, where their parents will come in and see the amazing work they’ve done in all their classes so far this year. They log their first essay — a descriptive essay of their perfect world — into their new Writing Log, place all of their graded work into the portfolios, and put their portfolios back in the crate.
10:45 am – The rest of class is workshop time for them to work on their current project: turning a Greek myth of their choosing into a comic strip. The project refines smaller skills like making a presentation neat and attractive, using appropriate layout and spacing on a poster, and attention to detail. But the main goal is to reinforce their ability to pick out the main points of a plot, something we’ll work on all year long. They’re also careful to use the drawing skills they’ve learned so far in their art class.
Today most students are working on character sketches, 4 panels that will introduce main characters to the viewer. The panels include the character’s name, a drawing of the character, a description of their physicality and personality, and the role they play in the myth. During workshop, I confer with students incessantly for questions ranging from, “Is this good?” to, “I can only find 3 characters in my myth.” We troubleshoot and brainstorm together. At both the beginning and end of workshop, I do a Status of the Class check, where I call out their names and they give me a quick summary of where they are in their process (for instance, “I’m on character sketch 2 of 4.”) This allows me to assess their progress.
11:10 am – Time for 6th grade Service Learning, which I inevitably forgot we had today. No worries; it’s my fifth year teaching Service Learning and I know the fantastic curriculum by heart. 6th grade focuses on Animal Advocacy. Today we’re demonstrating a dog treat recipe for the students. They’ll bake batches of them at home (alone with their parents or in groups) and bring them in to package, price, and sell at our town’s Christmas festival. The money we raise will be donated to the Charlotte Humane Society and Cornelius Animal Shelter, two local animal shelters.
I grab the ingredients for the treats and explain our goals to the students. We head down to the campus kitchen together and crowd around the island. I thank God when I see Julie Reulbach, who’s also my fellow Service Learning teacher, has already laid out bowls and handed out recipes to the arriving students. I prepare the dog treats, tossing in a few cooking pointers here and there while my co-teacher throws herself into the role of fabulous cooking assistant: opening ingredients, shushing students, and washing dishes. We high-five afterwards for pulling everything together.
12:05 pm – My planning period! Another teacher asks for some advice dealing with a behavior issue, so we take care of that together. The student involved is tearful, having made an uncharacteristically poor decision, so I feel my role vacillate between disciplinarian and comforter. Teaching is an emotional experience.
I head back to my room to draft a few emails (a thank you to a parent volunteer, a question to another parent) and find a new message in my inbox about Grandfriend’s Day, when our students will bring their grandparents and friends to school to share their daily experience. It’s coming up quickly and I know I need to look at the guest list and prepare. Like so many emails throughout the week, this message gets filed under “to be dealt with” in my brain, since it requires actions I don’t have time to take at the moment. So often, as my colleague describes, my inbox becomes an “email graveyard.” I periodically clean it out, but currently it has 219 emails in it — some of which I’m sure I was supposed to have already responded to! I try my best.
12:35 pm – This is my only prep period, so I have to eat my lunch quick before it’s over! I pop my popcorn and eat it while vegging out to the tune of Facebook, CNN, and People.com.
12:55 pm – I’m usually still stuffing the last few pieces of popcorn into my mouth (or let’s be realistic, dropping them all over my lap) as my next 6th grade class walks in the door. I welcome this new class and grab my stapler to repeat my lesson plan for them.
1:50 pm – This is project work time. My 7th grade students are working on finishing up the last bits of their Japanese anime project — an interdisciplinary application project that combines social studies, language arts, science, visual arts, and music. I rush down to the art room to help the art teacher facilitate their stop-motion animation, which we’ll show at their “Japanese Film Fest” style Portfolio Review. I feel a little useless since I’m not particularly artistic, but I at least offer a few helpful pointers about the animation process to a couple of groups and retrieve some colored whiteboard markers for another.
2:45 pm – Now it’s time for advisory, where I meet with a small group of 7th grade girls and check up on their academic and social well-being each day. Today we’re continuing a discussion on body image. They’ve brought in magazines and they each choose an advertisement and brainstorm about how it might make “everyday girls” feel inadequate. We have a good time poking fun at the ideals being touted by each magazine.
3:15 pm – I dismiss my students and head to Cookie Capers, a weekly baking camp I hold with several lower school students. This week we’re baking Pumpkin Cake Cookies. It’s a chaotic hour and a half, but somehow everyone emerges unscathed and well-fed.
4:45 pm – I jump in the car and head home to Byrd, who — as one of my fellow teachers like to say — is probably dancing around with her legs crossed.
5:05 pm – Byrd gets some relief when I take her out to potty. I’m exhausted, but I eat a quick snack and check up on emails I missed during camp. I fill my turtle’s feeding tank and feed him.
6:00 pm – Honestly, at the beginning of the year I’d usually lie down for a nap at this point, but then I ended up pushing all of my work later into the evening. Lately I’ve been trying to get it all finished earlier. Now, for instance, I might quickly piece together tomorrow’s lesson plan by adapting plans from previous years to students’ current needs and level of progress. Then I might grade some 6th grade projects. Thankfully, these are quick to grade since they’re not papers, but résumés the students wrote to apply for a job as the next Greek god or goddess.
When I have papers to grade, it feels like my whole schedule grinds to a halt. There’s never enough time in prep periods to get many of them finished — I can finish 5 a schoolday if I’m absolutely in the zone — and my schedule at home is usually jam-packed unless I’m staying up too late (which I always am). I’m so lucky to have a small number of students (60), but still, paper grading is a heavy burden.
7:00 pm – I throw on my workout clothes and drive to the gym for a 7:30 exercise class. Tonight it’s Zumba. I’m not very energetic, but I get through the class and the few individual exercises I do afterward — back raises, stair climbs. My night would be so much easier if I didn’t work out, but after developing health problems this summer, I’m not willing to sacrifice it.
9:00 pm – I head to my local deli to eat dinner and continue working. I usually read the news while I eat (or, let’s be honest, watch this live feed of the kitten room of a no-kill shelter), but then as soon as my food is gone, I’ll work on photo editing, recipe development, blog post writing, Willow Bird Baking social media upkeep, and email responses. I’ll also work on any lesson planning I still have left to do.
10:00 pm – The deli closes and kicks me out, so I head home to continue work. I take mini-breaks to poke around on Facebook, CNN, or my RSS feed. I always plan to get to bed by 11 but usually end up realizing around that time that I still have to take Byrd out, do something about the dishes all over the counter, rewash my laundry which has soured after being forgotten, brush my teeth, take my medicine, and other miscellaneous tasks before being able to go to bed.
12:00 am – I get into bed, kicking myself for not going to sleep earlier. I constantly lambaste myself for not using my time wisely; I feel like I could have peeked at Facebook less, not taken a nap (if I did), been a little more firm when 5 students came up to ask me a question at once during my prep period, or graded a few more papers instead of taking an actual break for lunch. In fact, my defensiveness about my exercise above probably stems from feeling guilty about taking that 1.5 – 2 hours for my health, even though I know it’s something I need and that ultimately will reduce (theoretically) my days out of work due to illness.
Unfortunately, since I have two jobs (you’re looking at the second one!), my weekends are slammed as well. Friday night is spent putting the finishing touches on a recipe, grocery shopping, and baking. Saturday is spent exercising, baking, styling food, and photographing food. Church is a highlight, but it consumes Sunday morning. Sunday evening is when I lesson plan and update my class pages. This means the only time I can spend with Mike is Saturday night and Sunday lunch (which is spent with Mike’s family). That’s on the weekends when he drives to see me in Charlotte. When I pack up, stuff Byrd in the car, and make the three-hour trip to see him in Raleigh, you can imagine the schedule havoc that creates.
So what’s the point? Just a big whine? Actually, no. I know that having a crazy schedule is a minor complaint. I love teaching and I love my students. I feel like I have the most amazing job in the universe. And frankly, I love that I have any job and a roof over my head.
But I would like to have time to prepare meals, exercise without guilt, and get enough sleep. This isn’t unique to me — this is the story of teachers everywhere. It’s just important that we know what we’re asking of teachers when making policies (and heck, pondering the state of their salaries across the country) so we’re treating teachers like the professional management that they are.
. . .
If you have time in your day to squeeze in some baking, these cookies are a comforting choice. They combine the salty, savory pimiento cheese with bright, fresh strawberry jam. I know it sounds like a weird combination, but just imagine the tart jam on, say, a cheese straw, and you’ll have a good idea of the awesome flavor of these babies. They’re easy to whip up and so unique — perfect for a holiday cookie swap or cocktail party (do people actually throw cocktail parties? And a better question: why are they not inviting me? Oh, right, because I don’t have time…)
Recipe by: slightly adapted from Southern Living, originally from Pawley’s Island Specialty Foods
Yield: 2 dozen cookies
These cookies are so easy, creative, and delicious! They taste like a spicy, nutty cheese straw with tart, sweet jam slathered on top. They’re addictive and perfect for Christmas cookie swaps.
Ingredients:
1 cup all-purpose flour
1 cup Southern pimiento cheese, processed fine (don’t skimp on the hot peppers)
1/2 cup pecans, finely chopped
1/4 cup butter, softened
2 tablespoons strawberry jam
2 tablespoons apple jelly
Directions:
In a large bowl, mix together the flour and pimiento cheese to form a paste. Beat in the finely chopped pecans and butter. Wrap the resulting dough in plastic wrap, forming it into a disc, and chill it in the refrigerator for 2 hours.
Preheat oven to 400 degrees F and prepare two baking sheets with parchment paper. On a lightly floured surface, roll out the dough to about 1/8-inch thickness, checking often to be sure it’s not sticking. Use a 2-inch circle cookie cutter, cut out cookies and place them on the prepared baking sheet about 2 inches apart. Place 1 teaspoon full of jam (apple or strawberry) in the center of each cookie before placing another cookie cutout on top and pressing the edges to seal them. You can reroll the scraps once to get more cookie rounds.
Bake for 12 to 15 minutes or until golden brown and crisp. Let them cool on the baking sheets for 10 minutes before transferring them to a wire rack to cool completely. No, really, let them cool, or you will burn your mouth off on flaming jelly. Do not ask how I know this.
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