Winter Ball Adventure

Josh just lived through his first high school dance. As a 24-year-old adult. There are reasons some parents should just keep their kids home from such functions.

One thing this wonderful husband of mine has picked up on very quickly is that there are some duties of a teacher that also fall to the spouse, especially when the teacher is the yearbook adviser.

Sporting events, concerts, knowledge bowls, and dances have all become a part of our wedded bliss, and to be completely honest, are some of the only "date nights" we're able to squeeze in during this first year of mine at CVHS.

Tonight, in an attempt to raise money to off-set the cost of yearbooks, eleven students, two teachers, a counselor, Josh, and I put on a Winter Ball.

Announcements and posters stated the ball would be "semi-formal," a component chosen by my yearbook staff. Sitting at a table taking money from students was an entertaining treat, because we were right by the main entrance.

Girl after girl entered, took one look at the dressed-down boys, and ran to the bathroom screaming and covering as best they could the formal dresses and heels they were wearing. Then girl after girl exited the bathroom in basketball shorts and t-shirts.

All seemed satisfied, until about 30 minutes later. The entire escapade repeated, only girls were changing back into formal wear and heels, pranced around for about ten minutes, then ran shrieking back to the bathroom to once again don the baggy shorts and t-shirts.

I thought this would be the highlight of the evening, but I was pleasantly surprised.

Just before we left our house, I grabbed Twister from our cupboard to take along. Josh and I received the gift for our wedding, but had never opened it.

Let me tell you, it was a hit. I have not laughed so hard in a long time. Our foreign exchange student from Taiwan was in on the fun, and his 5'0" body was twisted beneath two of Clearwater Valley's 6'4" basketball stars. At one point the exchange student screamed, "You made me bite my lip!" Then he fell off the mat holding his lips.

The most memorable moment of this night however, did not involve dancing, or Twister, or photos, for that matter.

Halfway through our designated 3-hour event, the physics teacher found me and asked if I had seen a couple recently. Then we were on the hunt.

We did a lap around the outside of the school. Then we did a lap around the inside of the school. I walked through every couple on the dance floor. Nada.

This may seem like little cause for concern, but today, just today, this same couple snuck off school property...onto private property...to..."study."

I wasn't quite sure what to do.

There is a small hall closet on the back entrance of the stage. For some reason, my gut told me to try the door. I did.

And horror of horrors, I caught my very first high school couple in the middle of..."studying."

It was awful. I had no words. I simply pointed my finger at them, then waved that finger forward.

I wanted to vomit.

Eventually a parent came. I told my story. The physics teacher told his story. And the rest is history. The parent was taking both students home, though, and I would not be surprised to hear that one of the two had to walk home.

What a night! But despite the formal changing, Twister laughing, "study" busting that went on, today was a remarkable turnover from yesterday, and I'll take that as a step forward.

Everything's Going My Way

Because I grew up in the blessed land of wheat, I often find myself living the life of an "Oklahoma" poster child. I know every song by heart, and apply them to themes of daily life.

"Oh, what a beautiful morning! Oh, what a beautiful day. I've got a beautiful feeling. Everything's going my way!"

I had this song on instant replay a'la delusion today as my world as an educator, as a wife, and as a friend crumbled right before my very eyes.

Now, I realize this is my second post of "woe is me," but if the purpose of blogging truly is to keep you all up to speed on the lives of us Idaho dwellers, as well as document life for the future family clan of Josh and Ashley Blain, then I figure not every day can be a happy one, right? I'm not trying to portray the perfect Brady Bunch family, because, let's face it, sometimes life just stinks.

Today...nope...this week has been rough. Last week was rough. I live with a 7Up can in hand 24/7, and Beptobismal within arms reach at all times. Truth be told, I have two bottles of that pink chalky stuff in my desk at school, and I drink it straight out of the bottle. The measuring cups are for amateurs.

During first hour today, my prep hour, a fellow teacher swung by for mindless chatter, but that chatter turned serious, and before I knew what was happening, she was crying and I was crying. Another teacher popper her head in, then she was crying.

The crisis? Loneliness of single parents. I couldn't even find words.

Yep, I started the day off on a heavy topic.

Second hour came, a boy got mad, stormed out of my room, tossed a few choice words over his shoulder, and then I couldn't find him. I had a class full of 10th graders, and one was MIA. I was livid, he was upset, and next week's detention will be a bit more full.

Third hour proved the true imperfections of my knowledge over the "Iliad." Curse you Homer.

Fourth hour ended with 16 students cussing my name for a failed pop quiz of "To Kill a Mockingbird." Believe me, if I was the mockingbird, I would have taken the bullet.

Fifth hour...was...stinky. Literally.

Senior English. Plus immaturity. Plus male humor. Plus burritos from lunch. PLUS a one-liter bottle of Pepsi. Yep- the loudest, most grotesque flatulent of human history. And the boy simply looked at me and said, "What?"

A full can of Lysol, that's what!

Sixth hour, there was no room in the inn. Truly. We went to one computer lab...pre-arranged, I might add...full. Lab number two. Full. Library? FULL.

"Oh, what a beautiful morning. Oh, what a beautiful day."

Seventh hour. Yearbook. Should be a breeze.

Disaster. Yelling. Screaming. More storming off.

"I've got a beautiful feeling."

Student: "I don't even want to be in this stupid class!"

Nothing... is... going... my way.

To top everything off, Josh called to see how my day went, quickly assessed that it went poorly, and tried to brighten life with a bit of humor.

My response was most certainly not one of Carol Brady's.

My response was, "If you don't stop, I'm going to punch you through the phone."

There went my Wife of the Year Award.

This semester has started off so poorly. I ended the first semester of my career confident that teaching was the only profession for me, confident I would always love every single one of my students, and confident I would live through this first year as an English teacher. No wonder 50% of all first year teachers quit after that notorious year.

All I can say is, "Boooo!"

Tomorrow I'll be humming "I Will Survive," and might even possibly get the full lyrics tattooed to my buttocks. Just to remind myself every day is not a musical where the wind comes sweeping down the plains. Sometimes, every day just makes you want to curl up in a ball and cry until your tear ducts have dried out and your face gives the impression that it was stung by a very large bumble bee.

I don't have anything clever or humorous to add for a closing. If I had any energy at all the "crying it out" technique might actually sound appealing. But I think I'll just go to bed, let my husband hold me, and pray tomorrow is either much, much better than today was, or that I get the Swine Flu and can call in sick.

At this point, I'm not sure which is better.

Some Needed Laughter

Today was a rough day. It started very early, included an all-staff meeting, and had me in tears before lunch. My wonderful husband text me to ask if there was anything he could do. My reply?

"Lunch?"

After a few very bold reminders from this man I get to call mine, some more tears, and a very organic lunch, the bell rang, Josh's cue to head out.

As students began to filter into my room, I hurriedly tried to finish a note for one of our congregants Josh was on his way to visit. After a flurry of hand motions and about four nanoseconds, it donned on me that liquid was trailing down my desk.

It was one of those moments where you're watching from what feels like outer space. Nothing could be done to stop the moment until Josh's voice broke into my head.

He said very somberly: "I'll just go."

I'm still not quite sure how it happened, but somehow Josh knocked over the almost-full can of 7Up sitting on my desk. Rather than simply spilling on the floor, it was unfortunate that, in fact, the bottom drawer of my desk was open, the drawer I just grabbed the card from. The drawer that just happened to be full of student finals, IEPs, and 504s. And they were sopping with clear stickiness meant to soothe the war going on in my lower intestines from the day's events.

I left the mess, finished writing my note, told Josh a good-bye, and turned to see 10 sets of eyes watching me.

I didn't say a word. They didn't say a word. We simply stared at each other.

Finally someone piped up, "He looked like he just got in trouble!" To which I said, "Probably because he thought he just got in trouble."

Then I burst out laughing, and my students burst out laughing, because my desk drawer began to urinate 7Up. And it was loud.

Suddenly, my day had no more room for tears or intestinal relapses. Just the "Iliad" and 10 seniors who have slipped into my heart, and who I am very honored to teach English.

I'll just have to save those tears for another day.

It Happens to the Best of Us

I have a love for words. But sometimes I use them...poorly.

After church wrapped up tonight, I was chatting with two of our ladies, laughing and swapping stories of Christmas celebrations, and I'm telling you, I think my brain broke.

While laughing over how kids miraculously heal because they "think" a medicine is going to work, I brazenly stated, "The mind is a natural libido."

The word didn't quite feel right as it left my tongue, but the two ladies laughed, so I thought maybe I was just out of practice with the noun. And then I spotted Josh's quizzical look from across the room.

While 95% of our congregants are very hard of hearing, Josh is not. And he caught me in a word blunder.

And then I realized what I had said.

Remorse immediately followed. So did a lot of laughter.

I apologized profusely to the two ladies- one was hard of hearing and missed the mishap, and thankfully the other said the word "sounded right" so she missed the mix-up as well.

The brain is like a natural placebo, but a libido it is not.

I would highly suggest never confusing these two words.

And as my dear friend JJ would say, "That is all I have to say about that."