Thoughts About Student Teaching and Some Stuff

So, I've been officially doing my student teaching for a whole four days now. I mean I'm basically an expert and probably deserve Teacher of the Year or something. I've brilliantly taught and compelled students how to write in a journal . . . TWICE, gone over spelling list words (that I seriously would have problems spelling myself), AND I've even had students, drum roll please . . . draw and color pictures describing themselves. YES, I know I'm quite amazing. Okay, so maybe teaching 6th grade English isn't like performing brain surgery, and it's not life changing, but hey, I LOVE IT!

Here are just a few things that I've thought thus far in my teaching experience:

• "Stop starring at me little girl!" There are two little girls (actually one is bigger than I am and looks older too) that just won't stop starring at me. Today one was starring at me so much when she walked by I thought I might have a huge booger, or something horrific on my face. I mean, I don't know what is going through these girls' heads, but they stare an awful lot.

• "I want to HUG you, but it might be awkward and inappropriate." There is a uncomfortablly shy girl in one of my classes that gets lost all the time and just seems really confused. I want to hug her.

• "Why do students get really excited when they see a teacher out of school? I mean it's like they're seeing a zoo animal out of its cage." Friday after school I had to run some errands, so I was driving down the road with my window rolled down, and I came to a stop light. I suddenly heared frantic screaming of, "Mmmmmmrrrrsssss. Alveyyyyyyyy!" I turn to see one of my students hanging out of the school bus window waving like a maniac. I'm just a normal human, students; there is no need to freak out, but I like that you like me.

Meet Our Awkward YouTube Friends

Antoine Dodson, the new internet sensation, resides in (where else) Huntsville, Alabama. Antoine is a unreserved, ghettoized individual that saved his sister from an intruder in her bedroom. Luckily, his comments to a local news crew convert into a great song.



David, a confused young boy with only one front tooth, is returning home from the denist. He is on a lot of medication, and luckily his father had a camera.



Stephen, a very distrubed individual, is captured in his distruction of Christmas.

Pasta: An Inspirational Story of Love and Triumph Over Hunger

Foreward: I write this post mostly for Kathleen "Horse" Lloyd (aka Mom), to prove to her that my blog, while she may very offensively classify as merely "weird," can be just as inspirational as my older sister, Trisha's blog, with her spiritaul "Sunday Thoughts."

Pasta

I've loved you from the beginning of my days . . . I think.

I know you well (now because of Wikipedia). First proclaimed in English in 1974, your name, Pasta, comes from the Italian Pastasciutta.

Although your origin contiunes to evoke speculations being of possibly Italian, Chinese, Greek, or Syrian origin, I don't view you any differently.

I grew more and more fond of you when I moved away to college.

When I was too poor to buy other foods, you dispelled my hunger.

When I was too tired to cook other foods, you cooked quickly and with minimal effort.

Pasta, I love you because you go so well with my second love, tomatoes.

You are most delicious covered in Del-Monte diced tomatoes and cilantro although James hates you this way.

Pasta, nothing will separate us, not a husband that doesn't love you as frequently as I do, not pregnancies that have the potential of making me throw you up, not future children that may hate you, and most of all not the leering potential of you making my butt bigger than Alaska; I'll just find bigger pants.

Pasta, you are an inspiration to me.

(Ha! Take that, Trisha's "Sunday Thoughts"!)

Awkwardness with the Alveys: An Uncomfortable Phone Call

See I promised two posts today! (Don't think I'm pathetic!) I couldn't let this awkwardly, uncomfortable story go by without being shared on the interweb any longer.

Some delightful information you might need to know to better understand the story:

Meet the Lloyds. This is my sister-in-law, Amanda, my niece, the cutest Paislee, and my brother, Chad. This story is about them, mainly Chad and Paislee. (Yeah, Chad, just spare me the hate mail.) You also might want to know, Amanda is prego with a small fetus they like to refer to as "Buddy." Chad and Paislee share the same birthday (September 5th), Chad has promised Paislee he will take her to a Chicago Cubs game on her 18th birthday (they're avid Cubs fans), and Chad and Paislee are fourwheeler friends. These facts are key.

Episode 3

Scene: It's late in the afternoon. I'm at home watching reality tv when my phone rings. It's Chad.

Chelsee: Hello.

Chad: What are you doing?

Chelsee: Nothing. Why?

Chad: You know how I told Pais that on her 18th birthday I'd take her to Chicago for a Cubs game?

Chelsee: Yeah.

Chad: Do you think telling her that I'm only taking Buddy now while affect her . . . mentally?

Chelsee: Ummmm . . .

Chad: Listen to this. Yelling to Paislee Pais, Buddy and I are best fourwheeler friends, not you.

Paislee: Panicked screaming ensuses as if a monster had just attacked her.

Chad: Okay, I'm just kidding Pais. Screaming instantly stops. See?

Chelsee: Very uncomfortable at this point Ummmm . . . Chad you're going to make her hate the baby, and she'll probably try to strangle it in its sleep.

Chad: Yeah, I guess I should stop, but it's pretty funny. Okay bye.

Chelsee: . . .

Awkwardness with the Alveys: A Wife's Malice for Her Husband Not Thinking She is as Funny as She Thinks She is

Amanda don't you worry about me blogging everyday. I will! (I have a special treat for you: TWO POSTS TODAY!)I have nothing better to do until school starts, and then I'm sure my antisocial self teaching small children will lead to SEVERAL awkward moments. But anyway . . . as I've mentioned before James and I have been married for about 10 1/2 months now. In that time I've begun to feel more comfortable around him (ie began to act stranger and stranger.) During my bursts of "comfortableness," I find myself to be EXTREMELY funny. However, my dear husband doesn't seem to think I'm as funny as I think I am. I mean everytime he talks about hunting and I begin to run around the apartment screaming ANIMALS HAVE FEELINGS TOO and SAVE BAMBI, he usually just looks oddly at me and says, "What are you doing, Chelsee?" I just don't think he gets my sense of humor sometimes. (Amanda, you should tell James sometime how funny I actually am because he read my blog and told me I was ridiculous and that the prego lady pic with the tire was "inappropriate" Really, James?) Anyway . . . back to James not thinking I'm very funny. Case in point, another installment of "Awkwardness with the Alveys."

(While I realize this picture really has nothing to do with the story, James has difficulties reading blogs when no pictures have been provided. I'm hoping he'll look at the picture, be so intrigued as to why I add it in, and then proceed to reading my blog.)

Episode 2

Scene: James, although being sick the night before, is at work. He and I are texting each other.

Chelsee: Oh, well, I still think Boogie (James really hates that I disclosed his nickname) should have just stayed home :( you sounded horrible.
James: Ha Ha, oh well.
Chelsee: You'll think "oh well" when you're laying on a hospital bed slowly dying of toomuchsnotites.
James: I guess.
Chelsee: Come on honey, laugh. Toomuchsnotites! That's funny.
James: I didn't get it.
Chelsee: It is a disease I just made up. Too-much-snot-ites (toomuchsnotites). HAHAHAHAHAHa
James: Oh.
Chelsee: So funny. HAHAHHAHAHHAHHA
James: Sure.

*A few hours later*

Chelsee: Sure hope your grandpa got his hay in; it's raining like a beast.
James: Oh jeez.
Chelsee: I'm serious. A beast! Our apartment might be under water when you get home.
James: Ha ha. (I don't think this laughter was very sincere because James was very melancholy that day, and when I told him that at dinner he didn't know what melancholy meant, and that made me laugh tehehehehe.)
Chelsee: Blurb...blurb...blurb...drowning...blurb.
James: Bye.
Chelsee: Blurb...blurb.
James: Bye.
Chelsee: Blurb!
James: Well bye bye.
Chelsee: Blurbbye.
James: Well, it's not raining in Monroe yet, so pray it doesn't.
Chelsee: Blurb. (At this point I burst out dying with laughter, naturally because I'm so funny.)

*A few minutes later*

James: So what are you doing?
Chelsee: The neighbors are playing weird latin rap music.
James: Fun.
Chelsee: Mostly I'm talking to myself and laughing.
James: Crazy nut.
Chelsee: RAHHHHHHHHHHH rrrrrrr (roaring like a tiger just seemed like the right thing to do at the time. Tragically, James never responded back.)