Author amykoehn

It Happened

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The sky has turned to grey.  The temperatures have dropped.  The dew on my windshield has frozen.  And I woke the other morning to snow on the ground.

My mood has sunk.
My spirits have plummeted.
140 days until Spring.
Until then, I’ll be under my down comforter in my bed.  Disturb at your own risk.

For Sale: 12 year old – CHEAP

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He’s been in trouble for awhile.  The past two months without exception, he has spent most of the weekend working on homework.  And by ‘most’ I mean, for example, eight hours on Sunday.  Which means none of the weekend was spent doing something fun with his mother.  Which means his mother did nothing that was considered fun.

He was grounded a week ago.  Could not go to bonfire night.  Missed out.  Even had reading for pleasure taken away to make sure the grounding was severe enough to fit the crime.
This week he still proceeded to procrastinate.  He wasn’t forthcoming about things and he spent 8 hours, let me repeat that, EIGHT HOURS working on an essay to have a sum total of 77, let me repeat THAT, SEVENTY-SEVEN words.  Total.  
There has been much yelling by his mother.  I was peeved to say the least.  Two months of my life I have spent my weekends waiting for him to finish his homework so we could play a game, go for a walk, see a movie, DO ANYTHING and here I still sit.  Regretting every single moment that I signed him up for this blasted gifted class.  Although I know it’s not that he has too much homework, he doesn’t have any more than any other average 7th grader, he just doesn’t do it until the last minute and even then, he’ll spend hours and hours and hours and hours what should take 20 minutes to complete.  He will not complain about it.  He’s not upset.  He won’t grumble or complain or whine.  He’ll just spend the entire weekend in his room with me checking in periodically, HOPEFULLY, to only find that he is still stuck, or he’s still on page one, or he still isn’t sure where to find the quote he’s looking for.  
Tonight he had a birthday party to go to.  An overnight party.  And while he did not for one single minute deserve to go, I let him.  I forced him.  For two reasons:  One, of the five boys attending, I know of four and they are good, smart kids.  Kids I want LM hanging around with.  Kids I want him socializing with.  And since LM never invites friends over, never has friends spend the night and rarely gets invited over, I wanted him to go.  It was a big deal to me.  And two (and frankly even more importantly) I promised Birdy we would do Girl’s Night tonight and I wasn’t about to let LM’s procrastination ruin a fun night out with my niece.
So, Birdy was dropped off and we took LM to his party.  And as we searching for the right house, I see another car pull up to the drive and figure we must be in the right spot.  Until I realize the person walking to the door of the house is a girl.  And I say to LM, “well, maybe this isn’t the right place, that’s a girl.”  And LM says, “That’s Jordan.  Girls were invited, too.  They are only staying until 9.”
MIGHT THIS NOT HAVE BEEN USEFUL INFORMATION TO TELL YOUR MOTHER?!?
And perhaps more importantly, might this not have been useful information TO PUT ON THE INVITATION?!?!
These are 7th graders.  And this is the first boy/girl party LM has ever been to (well, ya know, except for cousins and classmates when he was like…TWO)
So, on top of all the homework issues.  On top of being the King of Procrastination for the past nine weeks, on top of using the computer for eight hours over the past three days (when your mother would really like to be typing her NOVEL) only to have 77 words to show for it, on top of all of this, he knew there would be girls at a party and he didn’t share this information with his mother.  Uh huh.
It’s a darn good thing that when I pick him up in the morning we are headed straight to church, because let me tell you, that boy has a death wish and he might not survive the day.
Want to bet the sermon tomorrow will be on patience?!?!
(On a good note, Birdy and I had a fantastic night out and it was wonderful to spend time together!!  I am thankful that someone out there wants to spend time doing fun things with me on the weekend!)

Taking Down the Barriers

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A well-meaning friend of mine who knows I’m at wits end with the cat blockade in this household, (for those of you unaware, here’s the really fast recap:  friend dies, two cats taken to a permanent home, doesn’t work out, I offer to help if I can, end up the permanent fix according to everyone but ME, now stuck with two cats when at most I would want one…two cats have been shut in my bedroom for the past, oh, seven weeks…yeah, life is good!!!)  Anyway, this dear friend who OWES ME BIG TIME suggested that we just open the doors and let the dog and my cat and the two new cats duke it out in the hallway.

Well, with little other option (I’ve called all rescues, they are full; I put an ad in the paper, a really good, really SAD ad, and got NOTHING, and I’ve emailed all the schools one last time and used the guilt card, but NOTHING) I decided I was tired of living with closed doors and pets that can’t get along and well, it’s just a hassle.  I don’t have that much space to being with.
So I came home tonight and told LM to take the dog for a walk and while he was out, I put the cat food all in one central location where the dog can’t get it and I OPENED ALL THE DOORS.
And then we waited.
Well, it took Eli (dog) about 2.2 seconds to figure out the doors were opened and he went running in to investigate.  Gabby, in all his 20 pound glory was laying on LM’s bed and was now a bit PISSED that there was a dog.
There was a lot of growling (by the cat) and then hissing (again, the cat) and the dog tried to go into the room and backed out and went in and back out and repeat and rinse, and well, the dog finally came out to the living room and we gave him a bone and we’re hoping that maybe Gabsters hid.  
I had a glass of wine before I did all this but now I’m thinking maybe Gabby should have had the glass of wine.
I’ll keep you posted.  If I’m alive to tell the tale.

Absenteeism

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I realize I just threw a whole bunch of new posts atcha.  Our internet has been down all week and was just restored today (seems when you cancel your cable television at the beginning of the summer, and they come back to disconnect it in August, they might just come back in late October and think you need your internet disconnected, too.  Despite the fact that you’re still paying the bill.)

But I think I’m all caught up now.
Which is good.  Because it’s 3 o’clock on November 1st and I have written exactly ZERO words for my NaNoWriMo novel.  
And LM needs the computer for something as tiresome as homework.  Unfathomable.
All this is simply to say if you don’t see another blog post for awhile, it’s okay.  I promise I am all right.  I’m just writing.  And if all goes well, when I finish NaNo this year (and I WILL finish) I will have written a full length adult novel.  My goal is to finish the novel I started last year making a book of 100,000 words or more, and something with a plot that opens, develops and even wraps itself up.  Imagine that.   Wish me luck.
(And please, send chocolate!!)

Sorrow

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I will admit, while the day had its blissful moments, I did find Halloween at school to be very difficult.  It was the party atmosphere.  Parents all over the building, the talk of snacks and treats and classroom parties in the afternoon.  It was all too familiar.  It reminded me too much of Valentine’s Day.

Valentine’s Day when I subbed in Pam’s room.  When I didn’t have any parent helpers until it was too late.  When I had more treats than the class could surely eat, including a deep dish apple pie.  Valentine’s Day.  The party Pam joked about with me for months afterwards.  She would leave me pixie sticks on my desk when I subbed.  She would leave a hostess apple pie in my teacher’s bag.  And she would always joke about being absent on the holidays so I could deal with the chaos as a sub.
I had kept it all tucked inside most of the day.  The ache was present, ever-present.  Her absence was tangible to me, but I kept it in check.  Turn a corner and a child will be hugging your knees.  Enter a classroom and hear the giggles and forget.
But I was in George’s room when it overtook me.  The kids had bags of treats to take home.  Several had pulled them out of their cubbies and had opened them up to inventory the contents.  I was fine.  I was really fine.  Until Michael pulled out a pixie stick.  
I left the room.  I walked through the long, quiet hallways, void of all students and parents.  I went down to Sue’s room where she sat by herself checking her email.  She knew from the look on my face.  She said, “I’m hiding out here today.  Usually I’m in Pam’s room helping with her party but today….I just couldn’t face it all today.”
We understood each other.  I didn’t have to say anything more than pixie sticks and Sue knew.  She had heard us joke about it.  She had been there when Pam slipped one in my pocketbook.  She knew.
Sue offered a hug, but a hug would have unleashed the tears that I was barely containing.  She understood my refusal, too.  We smiled at each other and I walked back through the halls, wishing above all wishes that I could turn the corner and see Pam’s smiling face.  

Holiday Obligations

amykoehn 4 Comments

I don’t think you can work in an elementary school and not participate in Halloween.  I mean, there are those who did, but even those of us who loathe the holiday and have avoided any celebration thereof for years feel a sort of sense of obligation to indulge in this environment.  I did not follow the tradition of most of the staff and dress as a witch, however.  I did stick to my morals and choose a storybook character as my inspiration.

I had been leaning towards Pippi Longstocking if you recall, but very few of the students would even know who that is (our building is K-2).  I decided instead to be Ms. Frizzle, the teacher from the Magic School Bus books and movies.
The idea seemed simple enough.  Last Saturday I headed out to get fabric to make a skirt.  (I should note here that my sister, ever the eldest, was shopping with me and commented that I kind of left this until the last minute.  Ever the middle child, I thought 6 days was FAR from the last minute and that I had PLENTY of time.  I hate to think what my brother, the youngest might have said!)  The skirt was key to the costume.  Ms. Frizzle always has a dress on that is related to the topic and so it’s usually crazy and wild.  Jules and I weren’t in the fabric department 30 seconds when we found the right material.  Bright yellow with cute insects all over it.  Perfect, indeed.  When asked at the fabric counter what I was going to use it for, the reply of a Ms. Frizzle costume was met with a nod of understanding.  Yes, perfect.
Jules helped me sew the skirt.  Neither of us sew, really.  Curtains, yes.  But following a pattern?  Not something either of us have done for a number of years.  Perhaps a decade or more.  But we were successful.  We didn’t even argue or kill each other.  Mom was smiling down on us, we’re certain.  (Jules wanted to call Dad and bet him $100 he couldn’t guess what we were doing at the moment.  She could have offered $10,000, no one would guess we would ever SEW together!)
The early part of this week was then spent transforming two cardboard boxes and a wagon into a school bus.  LM was skeptical but then amazed with the results.  Apparently it’s been awhile since he has seen his mother’s creativity in action.
Wednesday and Thursday we spent on the little pieces that perfected the costume.  Ladybugs on my shoes. 
The right tights, the right hair style.  We asked LM’s dad to ship his Liz stuffed animal from PA for the occasion and Birdy lent me ladybug earrings.  
And Friday, when I arrived at school, I was an instant hit.  The students at breakfast were delighted with a visit from Ms. Frizzle.  They all knew immediately who I was.  By mid-morning, teachers were stopping by my classroom to see if the rumors were true.  It wasn’t just the costume, it was the completeness of it, they said.  The fact that I even had the BUS.  
The parade was at 2 and as I walked around with my favorite second grade class (which just happens to be George’s class) the older elementary kids were singing the Magic School Bus theme song.  It was cute.
I wouldn’t say the experience has changed my mind any about the holiday.  I still don’t like children dressing up as witches and skeletons and vampires.  And I certainly don’t like the idea of our children going door to door to get candy from strangers.  But I loved the enthusiasm of the students.  I loved how tickled they were that I had a lizard on my shoulder.  Or the questions that came from the Kinders, “But what is IN the bus, Miss Wilson?”  
The bus will be wrapped and stored in my sister’s barn.  I’ll be Ms. Frizzle for a number of years now, I’m certain.  There’s no reason to try to outdo the effort we accomplished this year.  Thanks, Jules, for your help.  For making sure I had the fabric facing the right direction, for keeping me from sewing the wrong seams first and for helping me fix my errors when my brain just didn’t focus.  Thanks, also, for letting me borrow your wagon.  It made the bus possible.
And a special thanks to LM.  My Magic School Bus expert.  He read the books over and over when he was younger and was the first one to tell me things about my costume that needed revision or elimination.  He was the first one, too, to tell me how awesome it all was.  

For My Dad

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Because I’m not sure if he’s ever seen it happen…

(I know the car is in drive, but I was stopped at a stop light, so I promise, it was safe to take a picture)
In honor of the occasion, I took gave the car a bath and vacuumed it all out.  I even put Armorall on the dash and washed the inside of all the windows.  
George will still be amazed that the bird poop is STILL stuck on my back window.  It’s been there for several months and nothing seems able to get it off.
George is convinced the bird ate a concoction of peanut butter, syrup and super glue to create such durable, indelible poop.

The Very Stealthy Cricket

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I was in my classroom last week when I sensed movement out of the corner of my eye.  I was scared to look, it was something on the floor and that is never, NEVER good.  

A cricket.
I should pause here and say, I have this thing about bugs.  Especially jumping bugs.  I am convinced that the snake is not the most feared animal, but really the grasshopper is.  They jump in unpredictable ways.  They sort of fly, but not really.  And walking innocently through the yard you could rouse one up and it could LAND.ON.YOU. Snakes just slither away.  A grasshopper will someday be the death of me.
And so the cricket.  Grasshopper’s wild little brother.
In my classroom, far too near my desk for comfort.
I scoot my desk chair back and contemplate my options.
My usual course of action, my weapon of choice – the vacuum – is not available to me in my classroom.  I’m not even sure how to think of Plan B with this hopping, jumping, leaping little demon at my feet.
I scramble.
I head to the door and walk across the hall trying to regulate my breathing.   There is a sub in the room and she is lining the students up to go somewhere.  I calmly ask if I may borrow George for a moment.  
Ever excited to have a mission, George eagerly follows me to my classroom.  When we arrive at the scene, I point to the cricket and say, “He’s got to go.”
George is thrilled!  A cricket!  In the classroom!!  I had him a tissue, reminding him of his nephewly duties.  He tosses the tissue over the cricket.  The possessed insect just leaps out from under it.  This happens over and over, each time George giggles a little more and I move further and further way.
Then I hear the most dreaded words of all.  “I can’t find him.”
WHAT?!!
I explain to George that it is NOT ACCEPTABLE to have a cricket LOST somewhere in the vicinity of my desk.  He is looking around and under the desk.  I am too, but from a very safe distance, say, perhaps 20 feet.
And then relief, George spies the black intruder by the table!  I suggest he perhaps step on it just lightly to stun in and then he might be able to grab it with the tissue.  I don’t want to encourage a complete squishing because I know, crickets crunch and I might never recover from that sound even if it doesn’t happen beneath my feet.
George thinks this is a marvelous idea and lightly treads upon the unsuspecting bug.  “Oh, that’s awesome!” he declares.  “I can see guts!!”
I ask him as calmly as I can if he would now remove the bug and go flush it down the toilet.  He picks up the remains of the cricket in his tissue and heads off to the bathroom in the hall.  I remind him to head on off to library then.
George is officially my hero.
P.S.  A couple of days later I asked if I could borrow George for a moment.  I needed him to run to the office for me to get something while I had class.  The first words out of his mouth were, “What?  Are you scared of another little cricket?!”  

Reading

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I’ve been reading, I just haven’t been posting about what I’ve read.  I added a few of my latest reads on my list to the right, but I’ve already forgotten some of the titles I read this summer.  

I won’t do a review for each, I’ve found I’d rather just move on to my next waiting book than to write about what I’ve read (reminds me of school) but I will say this:  I enjoyed “Eat, Pray, Love” even though I don’t agree with everything she has to say.  And I really enjoyed “Edgar Sawtelle” although if you’re not that into dogs or the human spirit, then perhaps this book is not for you.  As for Nicholas Sparks, all I can say is that his writing has been very disappointing to me lately.  I doubt I will reach for his next novel nearly so quickly and I will wait for someone to tell me it’s as great as “The Notebook” before I plunge in.  
Now then, I have five days until I’m back to my own novel writing and until then, I still have some unread books on my nightstand.