She’s Baaack!

Once again I have been given licence (and a license) to educate children.  I love to make kids think. Sometimes my methods are a little unorthodox, but they are usually fun.

Today I was in a special needs classroom with 3 hearing impaired kids and their aid, Ms. Ash.  Cognitively there is nothing wrong with these kids, they’re just a little behind because they are having to relearn life with cochlear implants.  It takes them a little longer to process verbal input because their brain isn’t accustomed to hearing, but they are plenty bright.

So, Jay was out of the room for a while for speech.  When he returned, I was sitting in his desk beside two other students and we were working on a science project.  Jay walked up to me. “Uhm — uh –” he pointed at his desk.

“Yes?” I answered.  He needs to verbalize his thoughts, not just make sounds.

“Uhm.” he said, and pointed again.

“Oh!”  I smiled brightly and said, “Hi!  My name is Jay.  This is my desk and here is my name tag.”  I ran my hands over the desk top and pointed at the name tag.

Jay glanced over at Ms. Ash.  She shrugged. He turned back to me and said, “What?”

I repeated, “My name is Jay.  This is my desk and here is my name tag.” I tapped on the name tag then asked, “Who are you?”

Jay looked over at Ms. Ash again.  Again she just shrugged. Jay turned back to me, put his hands on his hips, and said, “Your name is not Jay.”

“Really?!”  I tried to sound very surprised. I leaned forward and studied the name tag. Feigning confusion, I looked at him.  “Are you sure that’s not my name?”

Jay frowned again, and then answered, “Noooo.” He looked uncertain for a moment, then took a deep breath and said. “But I am sure that my name is Jay; this is my desk; and that is my name tag.”

“Really?” I exclaimed.

Jay nodded emphatically.  I grinned at him, we all shared a laugh, and I got up and moved.

Fast forward to the end of the day (about six hours later):

As we were cleaning up to leave Ms. Ash announced, “Ms. Teacher will be out sick tomorrow, too, so Ms. A. will be coming back.”

Jay looked up from putting the blocks away, “Who is Ms. A.?”

Ms. Ash pointed at me.

Jay looked at me, raised his eyebrows and smirked, “Oh, you mean Ms. Jay?”

*   *   *

Yep.  I am going back tomorrow.  They pay me for this.

~names changed to protect the sassy. 

I’ll Leave the Olive, Thank You.

Today I gave one of my students, Em, the first black olive she had ever eaten. She looked at it skeptically, poked it with her finger, and queried, “What is this?” She noticed her friends eating them off the tips of their fingers. She tried hers on for size and beamed delightedly when it fit. One of her friends urged, “Taste it!” Em’s frown returned. “Just a little taste,” she said, then delicately nipped the tiniest bite off the olive.

Immediately her tongue popped back out of her mouth with the smudge of olive on it. The sight was met by a chorus of “Ewww!” from the other girls at the table. The tongue and the olive disappeared back inside Em’s mouth. Her face made the most marvelous contortions as she choked down that speck of olive.

Finally, she opened her eyes and looked at the olive still on the end of her finger. Slowly, she raised it to her lips. I said, “Em, did you like that olive?” She replied, very politely, “I found it a bit unusual.” Again she moved the olive toward her mouth. I said, “If you don’t like it, you don’t have to eat it.”

Em said, “That wouldn’t be polite. I have to eat it.” I responded, “No, Em, you don’t. I gave it to you and I say if you don’t like it, you don’t have to eat it. My feelings won’t be hurt.”

Em stared at me wide-eyed. She looked at the olive. She looked at me. “Really?” She asked. I pointed at the garbage can. “Throw the olive away,” I ordered.

Em effusively exclaimed, “Oh thank you! That really is nasty, you know!” She tossed the olive and scrubbed her tongue with the cuff of her shirt. “How can you people eat those things?” she demanded. We just wiggled our olive covered fingers and giggled.

Consistency = Friends For Over 35 Years

According to the dictionary consistency is:

  1. a degree of density, firmness, viscosity, etc.
  2. steadfast adherence to the same principles, course, form,etc.
  3. agreement, harmony, or compatibility, especially correspondence or uniformity among the parts of a complex thing
  4. the condition of cohering or holding together and retainingform; solidity or firmness.

Why I Like Facebook

Running dialogue below one of my status updates:

Status: At dinner tonight Amoeba pea-ed on the floor!

Comments:

  •    ‎*snort*

  •   Corny.
  •   How many peas did he lose on the floor?
  •   Not telling. That would be disturbing the peas.
  •   And I can’t pick ’em up either, ’cause then I’d be accused of lifting my legume.
  •   Charley and Charlene two peas in a pod??? yep I think so
  •   Jeff says oh peas get over it
  •   Charlie probably couldn’t carrot less about peas.
  •   But I *do*, Nathalie. *Everybody* should be able to visualize whirled peas.
  •   I suppose I should have beet him for it.
  •   Good thing you didn’t. I don’t think I could have survived the borscht belt.
  •   LOL. I give up. I’m not radish enough to continue.
  •   I’m running out of thyme to play anyway.
  •   Figures that you’d walk off when it was your turnip.
  •   
  •   Don’t let him squash you.
  •   Oh, my. If you can’t get along, I guess you cantaloupe.
  •   I guess this strings bean going on long enough.
  •   Lettuce all turnip together to plant again, soon, peas!
  •  Tomato is soon enough for me.
  •   Okay, already. You guys are driving me out of my gourd!
  •   It did get corny, didn’t it?

Blood Pressure Whoas

They sat down to a lovely roast pork dinner She had cooked.

He:  “Mmmmm, Kalua Pig!  I’m afraid I am getting to the age where meals like this are going to have to be a rare occurrence.  Time to start watching my cholesterol and blood pressure.”

She, pausing with her fork half way to her mouth:  “Is this an ‘in general’ thing, or do we have specific cause for concern?”

He: “Last time we checked everything was within normal bounds for a man my age.  I’m just saying we should work at keeping it that way.”

She, relaxing:  “Okay.  And really, we should both be eating more fish and chicken anyway.”

He: “I totally agree.”

She: “But when I feed you only fish and chicken for a week, you complain.”

He:  “I know, but I guess I am just going to have to get used to it.”

She:  “All right.  I guess that leaves what I planned for tomorrow’s meal out.  I wish we’d had this conversation before I shopped.”

He: “Why?  What were you going to fix tomorrow?”

She waved her fork at the roast:  “Look at the size of this thing.  I planned on taking the meat off the bone and making enchiladas.”

He: “Enchiladas?  Did I mention that my cholesterol and blood pressure are within the normal range for a man my age?”

She: “What if the enchiladas tip you over the edge?”

He: “You can serve chicken on Wednesday.”

Cooked!

He: “So I’m standing here trying to fix dinner …”

She: “Fix dinner? I didn’t know it was broken.”

He: “Right. How ’bout you give me a break?”

She: “Where?”

He: “Um .. as I was saying. I get a saucepan, open the box, pour the contents of the box into the saucepan, add water … and now the box tells me to stir thoroughly.” Where do I find this thoroughly thingy?”

She: “No clue. I’ve been looking for years. Never found one. Carry on without it. You’ll probably do fine.”

He: “OK, I … dang it!!

She: “What?”

He: “The blamed instructions tell me to bring to boil. No way! I ain’t bringin’ nothin’ noplace! Even if I knew where to find boil any more than I know where to find the thoroughly. That saucepan is on the stove where it belongs, and it’s stayin’ there until it’s done!”

She: “[Sigh] Relax, love. Boil figured out this flaw in the instructions a long time ago. Leave the pan on the stove. Turn on the burner. The boil will come to you. Trust me on this.”

He: “OK. I guess I’ll just keep cookin’.”

She:No!

He:What ‘no’?? You want me to try to put this wet, slimy stuff back in the box? And go hungry??

She: “I want you to cook your dinner. Not you! Are you wearing your suntan lotion?”

He: “In the kitchen?!

She: “In Hawai‘i. Where you’re broiling under the hot sun!”

He: “Not in the kitchen two hours after sunset, I’m not.”

She:Phew! For once, I get a break!

He: “Where?”

Lesser Evils

He emerges from the bedroom with wads of cloth in his hands.  She knows He’s headed for the laundry room.  She stops him.  “What are those?”  She demands.

He looks baffled and holds them up for her to see.  “Dirty socks and jeans,” he says.

She plants her hands on her hips.  “Uh-huh.  And just where are you going with them?”

He motions toward the door just a few feet away, “I was going to throw them in the laundry room.”

She raises her eyebrows and says, “There are NO dirty clothes in the laundry room. I worked all day to make it that way.”

“Oh,” He says.  He grins and tries to edge around her.

She sees him look longingly toward the laundry room.  “Let me repeat,” She says.  “There are NO dirty clothes in the laundry room.”

“No problem,” He says and puts everything down on the back of the couch.

She reconsiders.  “On second thought …”

Why is it the laundry room never stays clean for more than a few hours?

 

Dinner Presentation

He: “I’m home!”

She: “Just in time. Dinner’s on the table.”

He: “You’re expecting me to shoo it off?

She: “No, I’m expecting you to eat it.”

He: “And what is ‘it’?”

She: “Meatloaf.”

He: “But we haven’t gone anyplace! Certainly not on business.”

She: “Yes?”

He: “So you’re serving me conference food?”

She: “Of course. Your conference is with me. In your own home. We meet, and then you loaf.”

He: “You’ve been shopping for shoes, haven’t you?”

She: “Shoes?”

He: “Didn’t you just tell me you wanted me to meet loafers?”

She: “I’d tread lightly on that if I were you.”

He Said WHAT?!

Mid-afternoon on Sunday She said, “Lunch was pretty light and it’s four hours until dinner.  Would you like a snack?”

He was staring intently at his computer and didn’t look up from his typing.  “Uhm, yeah.  How about … not a sandwich.  Maybe a coke and something chippy.”

She said, “Something, what?”

Without a pause in his work He answered.  “Chippy.  Something chippy.”

She said, “You want coke and a chippy?”

He said, “Yeah.”

She said, “Okay. I can probably do that.  You want your chippy with or without syphilis?”

His fingers froze above the keyboard.  He turned his head to look at her.  She could actually see him mentally hit rewind and review the conversation.  “Oh!” He grinned sheepishly.  “Hold the syphilis.  Just bring me a Coca-Cola and whatever snack chips we have in the house.”

“Right,” She said.  “One rolling pin coming up.”

She Said It Isn’t Snow

She looked out the window and saw a blanket of white covering everything in sight.

He said, “Snow.”

She said, “That’s not snow.”

He gave her that look and exclaimed, “It’s not!?”

She said, “It is not snow.  It can’t be snow.  The weatherman said. “Cold through Tuesday, snow on Wednesday.  This is not Wednesday, therefore that is not snow.”

He said, “I got news for you honey –”

She said, “I don’t want to hear it.”

“– you may not believe in the snow, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t here.”

She said, “Lalalala …”