Goal Oriented

We've been very busy this past week round these parts.  Busy-ness which has included, but was not limited to Gracie's four month shots, swim class, moms' group, lunch with nana, coffee with friends, and my triumphant return to (substitute) teaching.  All of this activity has meant the nap schedule has gone.  Off.  The. Rails.  And I knew I would have to pay the piper eventually. And pay I have.  So, at four thirty this notmorning notnight, I vowed that we would not be messing with the tattered remains of the nap schedule for at least two days.  Our public will just have to wait to see us for awhile.  Which will of course help build our mystique.  I know Suri would approve.
So, knowing I would be under house arrest for the next couple of days, I began setting my goals for the day.  Did I mention it was four thirty?  That may explain why my goals are somewhat mismatched.  But whatever - the important thing is that I have goals, right?
Here they are, in no particular order: Have a nap, bake this chocolate zucchini cake, work up a sweat to my new Jillian Michaels DVD.  Guess which one is yet to be accomplished?  But it's only four thirty in the pm.  Coincidence?  I think not.

It's busy-ness like this that will get you into trouble . . . 

Teachers' Convention

I love, love, love teachers' convention.  My co workers used to tease me, saying I lived for teachers' convention weekend.  But really, can you blame me?  It's a bright spot at a dreary time of year, you get two days out of the classroom, freebies at the sales exhibit, and a chance to meet up with former colleagues you haven't seen in awhile.  
All of these things make teachers' convention great, but it really turned into one of my favourite yearly events when one of my friends and colleagues decided to turn this into a true "out of town" convention experience for us.  Since we live in the capital, the convention is always held here in our city, but we decided to make it a real outing a few years ago, staying in a hotel downtown, wining and dining in the evenings after days full of professional development.
There are always lots of laughs and memorable moments at our convention weekends, and there is always a theme song.  Last year was "We R who We R" by Key-Dollar-Sign-Ha.  The year before was "Boom Boom Pow" by the Black Eyed Peas, and before that it was "She Wolf" by Shakira.  After some discussion, we decided on "We Found Love in a Hopeless Place" for this year's theme.
But even with an appropriate butt thumping beat for an anthem, this year was definitely different.  Of course, being temporarily retired from the craft, I did not attend the day time PD sessions, and while I did join the gang for dinner last night, the fetus who tagged along prevented me from enjoying certain aspects of the dinner I might have previously partaken of (responsibly, of course).  Not only that, but we were missing some core members.  Our girl Amy recently moved out of the city and was sorely missed, and Lynne and Lesley were both kept away by family obligations and a mistaken belief that as senior members of our esteemed guild they should call it a day early.  

Amy and Aoife last year with some of the best red wine I've ever had.

We still had a great dinner though, with memorable moments galore.  We ate at Hundred Bar & Kitchen, which unbeknownst to me hosts ladies' night every Thursday with everything on the menu at half price!  Even drinks, not that I could partake thanks to the tenant in utero.  We paid for that 50% off when it came to the service, however.  Our waitress served one person's dinner at the same time as the appetizers, took away our side plates before we had finished our appetizer platter, cleared one person's wine glass before the bottle at the table was done, threw out two people's doggie bags, and took away the pregnant woman's brownie while she was in the bathroom.  The earlier transgressions could have been forgiven, but that last one?  You do not part me from my chocolate until I'm rolling on the floor, sick with indigestion, heartburn, or both.  

Thank you wine glass, for hiding my bloat!

Making up for our errant server was the entertainment in the form of a regular customer who created her own dance floor in a dance floorless establishment.  She was busting a move for well over two hours in the middle of this resto-lounge, clapping and high kicking to the tunes spun by the in-house DJ who did not stop bobbing his head once throughout our three hour dinner.  I know that is a run-on sentence, but that's how intense and breathless the experience of watching this two really was!
While my evening ended with dinner this year, looking back, I think last year's convention held some omens for what this year would hold.  First, and definitely most telling was one of the freebies I got last year.  It was a tiny, pink, rubbery fetus from the pro-life booth that I planned to share with my health classes.  The fetus became a kind of mascot last year, bobbing its little head to Ke$ha, posing for photo-ops at dinner, and climbing into bed with my friend Aoife at the end of the night, much to Aoife's fright.  Little did I know that a real live fetus would be on board for this year's festivities!  Next year, who knows what will happen!  I just hope to be able to enjoy a glass of red again.
Shelby

Last night's group shot.  Sorry, red eye could not be reduced.

Hair: The Long and Short of it

I have had both very long hair and very short hair, and everything in between.  And while I usually lean towards the shorter side of the spectrum, it doesn't seem like many others in my life feel the same way.  

As a teacher, returning to school the day after having your hair cut can be intense. True, there are those students who don't notice, but more often than not there are many comments, often when you're trying to lecture, or administer a test or at a zillion other inopportune times that the munchables will make their feelings known.

I can remember one student who said, upon seeing my freshly coiffed locks, "Don't worry, Mrs. Quinlan. It will grow back."  Or another who waited until several months later when the hair had in fact grown back, then said, "Remember that time you had a bowl cut?  I'm glad you grew it out."  And inevitably, the girls in my class would swoon over the wedding photo on my desk, and say things like: "Oh, you had such long hair!  You were so pretty then.  Why did you cut it all off?"  From the mouths of babes . . . ?  Even my brother in law joined in with his very forward thinking perspective when I cut my hair shortly after my wedding saying, "Well, you're married, you've cut off your hair, now all you need to do is gain 15 pounds to complete the trifecta."  Ahem.  

But here's the thing.  My hair is not particularly thick, and so when it's long, it has a tendency to look like someone attached seven strands of golden yarn to my head.  Yes, long hair is more versatile, but also more work.  Short hair seems edgier and more stylish, but you have to cut it constantly to keep it's shape, and sometimes it can cross into soccer mom territory. Currently my hair is in a mid length bob, because I didn't want to have a pixie cut paired with a potentially bloated pregnant face, but I'm sure after the bébé arrives the temptation to reach for the scissors will arrive with a vengeance.  My only fear is that I won't be able to make a sound decision with the monumental hormone shifts and lack of sleep that are  awaiting me.  What to do?  Turn to the internet for advice!  What do you think?  Long or short?  

 While I await your shrewd advice, I'm off to research some ideas for future posts. Talking about myself constantly has become dreary.

Ta!

Shelby 

Schooled

Being on hiatus from teaching has given me plenty of time to reflect on my six year slog through the trenches.  Teaching certainly has its low points.  Like when an angry high schooler calls you a bitch in front of a class of 31 other students, most of whom are thinking the same thing.  Or when the student you know is capable of so much more than they (or most others) give themselves credit for makes the wrong choice again.  Or when your contract isn't being renewed because of budget cuts, or low enrollment, or both, and you have to move schools for the third time in four years.  
But teaching also has incredible high points.  Like when a student finds you on Facebook just to tell you their year with you was the best in their 12 years of school.  Or when one of the lovelies gives you a Justin Bieber Valentine with a hand written note complimenting your outfits.  Or when a student stays after class just to chat and tell you what's going on in their lives and seek your advice.  Or when after a no good, terrible day that brought sad, sad news, a student gives you a hug.  An unexpected, but sorely needed, hug.  And those are just the little, day to day things.  So many of my students have gone on to achieve so many feats that have made me so proud to know them, but the best part is that they thought enough of me to tell me of their accomplishments.  From those who have had their writing published in the paper, to those who've been awarded for their endeavors in sport or song, to those who are working hard at post secondary, to those who are just lovely human beings, I'm so proud.  
So thank you to all of my students for all of the experience you've given me.  I've learned so much from you.  I don't know if I'll end up back in the classroom after my mat leave ends or not, but I do know that this hiatus has given me the distance I need to make the best choice possible.
Love, 
Mrs. Q  
PS.  Tomorrow we'll be back to our regularly scheduled fluff and nonsense.  This post full of seriousness brought to you by fluctuating hormones.