Dear Students

To my cute (yes, you are all cute) students who have successfully found my blog (I should have never mentioned it, my fault):

Most of the posts you find here (if you ever read them) will be quite boring to you.  You see, in my teen years, I didn't have a cell phone.  MySpace didn't even exist, let alone Facebook. To communicate with friends, I would email them.  Then this new trendy thing started up: blogs.

These posts are basically status updates.  That are really long.  And boring.  You have been warned.

If you are looking for somewhat amusing posts, here are a few (yes, I'll find the embarrassing pictures for you):

The Twilight Post
Itches
Penguin
My First Marriage Proposal


And let this be a lesson to you: stuff you write in the great void known as the internet will come back to haunt you. Think about what you write before you send it out to the void. I obviously didn't do that.

Pets

Ricky had rats, and Lindsey had parakeets growing up (there could be more, but I don't remember very much from such a young age.  The only thing I remember about Ricky's rats is that I had his black and white one on my lap, I had the chicken pox, and there were pink foam curlers in my hair.  I wasn't comfortable with the rat, so I squeezed my temples with the backs of my hands in distress.  I look up, and mom snaps a picture.  That picture is still around somewhere.)

I had a bunch of different pets, and I've found I'm successful with only one kind: hamsters.

My very first pet that I bought with my own money (ok, I swam for them, but hey) was a Russian dwarf hamster.  I named her Frisky.  I didn't know she was a she until later.  She was your typical grey hamster, and she loved grape nuts.  She'd stuff her little cheek pouches to the brim with those grape nuts, then I thought it was hilarious to sometimes press on her little cheek pouch, and she'd spit it all out.  It's amazing how much stuff would fit in her mouth!  Frisky had a friend, I don't know if I ever gave him a name since Megan thought the hammies were cute, so she got one too.  He was creepy, white with red eyes.  

He and Frisky got busy and had lots of little pink jelly beans.  Babies.  They looked like little fingers.  Quite ugly, actually.  I think I had hamsters for about 6  years.  Babies, babies, babies.  The only two hamsters I really remember since the original pair was "runt."  Runt was the runt of the first litter of babies.  I gave him to my cousin, Sarah, who didn't want him anymore after a while.  When I got him back, he was HUGE.  He was a fat one.  The other hamster I remember was Fang.  His teeth didn't line up like hamster teeth should, so his teeth never stayed ground to a decent length.  His bottom fangs would grow so long, they'd be almost cutting into his eye.  I remember Mom and Dad having a system of holding him and clipping his teeth with toenail cutters.  He never got to be a normal sized hamster.  I'm sure he had problems with eating, thus always being a bit scrawny.

See?  I know a lot about hamsters.  I should just stick to those.

My second type of pet was a dove.  My friend Lauren had a dove, and it made the most charming coo-ing sounds, not annoying and screechy like Lindsey's parakeets.  I couldn't stand having it in my room because it was ALWAYS watching me with a beady eye.  I remember he would get out of his cage, and when you tried to catch him and he got away from you, after landing somewhere else, he would let out a chortling sound.  Like he was laughing at you.  

Well, one day he was out of his cage, the room door was open, and the back door (to the great outside) was also open.  Bye bye birdie.

When I was 16 and could drive, I really wanted a pet chinchilla.  But they were out of my price range, so I settled for a little bunny instead.  It was so stinkin' cute!  And stinky.  It got to the point that we all decided that little bunny should stay in a cage outside.  One morning, I decided to go check on Thumper, only to see that Dax (a German Shepard dog) was hungry and decided to eat Thumper.  The most heart-wrenching part was realizing that I was literally 30 seconds too late.  If I had gone out 30 seconds earlier, Bunny would still be in his cage, and not having his bones crunched by Dax.

Enter cute Scooter.  Last December, I decided I really wanted a dog.  Or roommates.  Something.  So I happened to swing by PetSmart, where a really cool organization called Rescue Rovers was holding an adoption event.  He was there, cowering in a cage, not happy with all the commotion.  All the other dogs were yapping, jumping, doing everything to get my attention, but he was simply watching me with big  yellow-ish eyes.  I decided to take him home.

He had a hard time adjusting.  He's a timid dog, probably didn't have the best life in New Mexico.  Or at least, he had a good life roaming the streets until he was caught.  He's a great walker, and loves the outdoors.  After realizing that I'm not the ideal owner for him, I decided to take him back.  But Mom said "but he's such a nice dog!  Let me keep him for a while!"  So he moved to Mom and Dad's.  He loved going on walks with them.  I felt bad, because I'd only visit on the weekends, but I was still his favorite.  Poor Mom, she never felt that was quite fair.

As Scooter got more comfortable with his surroundings, he started to get more confident.  And some...undesirable behaviors emerged.  Namely, biting.  He bit a neighbor walking down the street.  He bit my dad's friend, and actually broke skin.  He nipped at children running around the yard.  And this always happened unpredictably.  The situation had to be perfect, and he would randomly bite 1 out of 20 times.  Not easy to train.

Well, last Sunday, he did his last bite.  He bit Ricky pretty good.  With little kids often over, we decided that Scooter needed a different home, one where he won't bite little children or make my stress level hit "high"whenever there were a lot of people around.  

I took him back to Rescue Rovers (who were very nice and understanding about the whole thing, btw).  The foster who took him in knows dogs very well, and so far, Scooter has been adjusting really well, getting along with the other dogs, and enjoys swimming in the doggy pool.  (I think it's so cool they have a doggy pool.)  I will miss him, but I know he's in a much better situation with someone who knows what he's doing.

I already miss him.  So, I'll stick to hamsters. They don't selfishly take a little piece of my heart.

Robot

I'm trying out new hearing aids.  I've had many pairs of hearing aids in my lifetime.  But I should start from the beginning for those of you who don't know me very well.

FAQ'S:
Q: How did you lose your hearing?
A:  By being born.

Q:  How much hearing loss do you have?
A: About 60 percent?  I'm not sure.  I'm in the 'profound' loss range if that means anything to you.

Q:  How did your parents know that you couldn't hear?
A: Well, when I wasn't talking or uttering anything coherent by the age of 3, they knew something was up.  I was also a bit crazy (still am).  And a nice lady from our neighborhood taught me some sign language, and I became a sweet normal little girl.  Then it clicked.

Ok, back to the point.
New hearing aids.

Before my new hearing aids, hearing aids were simply devices that are made of hard plastic that you wedge into your ear so that it sits next to your eardrum and blares sound into your ear like a microphone.  (Ok, I know it's more complicated than that, but we'll just keep it simple for all those who are not HOH [hard of hearing].)  Since my first pair, at the age of 3, hearing aids have come a long way.  I'm always conscious that I'm listening with a hearing aid, knowing that everything I "hear" isn't quite...natural sounding.

How do I know this?  Secret confession: I often take out my hearing aids in the car, turn the volume all the way up, and enjoy my favorite songs with my natural ears.  It sounds totally different.  Hearing aids can do only so much.

Hearing aids are also very convenient when you don't want to participate in a conversation or listen to a crazy hectic loud crowd--simply turn them off and enjoy the silence.  And I mean absolute silence.  Not one hint of a murmur or sound.  The only way I can describe this is that my ears feel like black holes of nothingness.  And you start to "hear" imaginary sounds.  But that's another story.


New hearing aids: I don't even realize I'm wearing hearing aids half of the time.  It sounds that natural.  Then I panic, worrying, "oh, I'm not even wearing them!  That's why everything sounds so different!"  Then I remember, "oh, yeah.  These are new cool hearing aids."  Not only do they sound better, but if I'm in a situation where I don't really want to listen...I can just tap a cool magical button, and I'm immediately listening to music on my phone.  In my ears.  No one else can hear it.  I can also talk to people on the phone directly through my ears.  So I'm often seen talking to myself.

So remember when I said as a child I was a little wild?  Well now, I'm just insane.  No one can see (hear) why I'm banging my head, busting a random move, or talking to myself.  My hearing aids are pretty hard to see...

I can already see how this will be fun.

A Modest Proposal

I know I don't blog often, but I felt that this is definitely an experience I must always remember.  After all, it's not every day that someone offers you a proposal of marriage.  (Unless you're a celebrity or famous, which I am not.)

Let me start from the beginning:  I was done with my afternoon nap, and my belly growled and threatened to eat my shirt if I didn't feed it.  I looked in the fridge, and realized that I need to go grocery shopping.  I decided to go to Smith's on 33rd.  Off I went!  I had no idea what life had in store for me in the next 30 minutes!

I started in the school supplies section.  I'm excited to teach some cool math lessons about hyperbolic paraboloids and other cool 3-d stuff and Sierpinski triangles and tetrahedrons and a lot of other things now that the stupid standardized testing is over and we can look at cool stuff.  We're going to go on trigonometric scavenger hunts and stare at the sky and play outside and learn about real life math. But I digress.  Back to the proposal!

I blow my nose a lot.  I like it when it's easy to breathe through my nose.  So I headed towards the aisle that has tissues (also fondly known as booger catchers).  On the way, I noticed the cereal aisle.  I love cereal as a snack.  It's like candy.  I usually like oatmeal for breakfast, but cereal is a treat for other times.  I saw him by the milk.  We made eye contact. He smiled, baring his pretty white teeth. As I turned into the cereal aisle, he followed me.  He said, "it's no fair you're so tall!  And you have such beautiful eyes!  There's something about you that just makes me want to talk to you!"  And we made small talk for a few minutes.  Then he asked me: "can I be your slave?"  I explained to him that I don't believe in slavery.  "Can I be your friend then?"  Sure.  Sure, you can be my friend.  Smiles, part ways.  Head towards the tissues.  Back to the mission.  Tissues.

But alas!  We encounter again near the tissue aisle some minutes later.  I jokingly say "hi friend!"  And he scurries right over, and says, "are you sure I can't be your slave?"  Yes, I'm sure.  "Are you married?"  No.  I'm not.  Next thing I know, he's down on both knees asking me to marry him!  People walking by stop, and watch in awe!  A proposal!  In our grocery store!  Will she say yes?

No.  I don't want to marry you.  Run away.  Check out time.  Forgot to even get food.  There's always fast food.  Oh, surprise, guess who's behind me in the checkout line?  More small talk.  Slightly awkward.  Run away.  Just don't get your groceries.  Naw, I'll practice being graceful in awkward situations.  After all, I'm standing next to my possible fiance. A man I rejected.

I got some crappy fried food and scurried home, safe and sound.  And that is the story behind my first proposal.  There you go, kiddos.

Painting Shoes

So, I'm going to visit a dear friend in California.  I've missed her birthday and Christmas, so I wanted to give her something.
But what?

She loves Doctor Who, but more specifically, she loves River Song.
This is River Song.

She's like a sassy, curly haired, female Indiana Jones.


So I decided to  buy some discounted Converse shoes (because they have a canvas-like texture), and yes, I know her shoe size.  Tiny.

Then I played around.

 I practiced on some super cheap Ked's (in my size), accomplished some major learning curves, (my shoes look rather sad and messy, so they'll just be work shoes or cabin shoes).

Then I began.

 I'm working with acrylic paints, and I have dark shoes.  The first thing I did is I wanted the shoes to have an overall blue hue, not black, so I watered down some blue acrylic paint, and let the shoes soak that up.

Next, I wanted to paint a cartoonish version of River song on the outside of the right shoe.  I needed a lighter background, so I watered down some white acrylic, painted it on, let it dry.  Then I drew an outline of her face in sharpie.  Colored that in.  I didn't want the colors to be too dynamic, so I tried to keep skin/hair in the same tone.

 I tried to make her look sassy and big-haired. Last step was to make her lips red, and color in her eyes/eyebrows.

The end product!  Not a bad $20 gift, eh?  And I have no idea how long they'll last, wear-wise.  Over time, I can see some of the acrylic cracking/peeling off.  I need to find a better ratio of acrylic and water, so that it soaks into (and basically dyes) the canvas on the shoes.

Why I chose to teach

"Why did you choose to teach?  With your math degree, you could do something that would earn you a lot more money, and you wouldn't have to deal with all those nasty teenagers."

"You're crazy.  I couldn't do what you do."

"One question.  WHY?"

"Are you crazy?"


These comments are not uncommon when someone asks me what I do: I teach.  Math.  A terrifying combination.  No one likes math.  Everyone has anxiety about it.  No one wants to be in school.  Students treat their teachers like crap.  Teachers (especially in Utah) don't get much in terms of money for work done.  I understand why people think I'm crazy, silly, or unambitious when it comes to teaching.

After all, those who can't, teach.


...Not really.  You see, I have found (in my limited experience) that most students do want to learn.  Yes, many students have anxiety about math, but I can help ease those anxieties by offering a positive and safe learning environment, where students can thrive.

As for my decision to teach, I have to say, I've always liked it.  I'm probably not your typical teacher, telling you everything I know: If I have 35 students who are 15 years old in my classroom, that is 525 years of experiences, perspectives, and ideas.  We all come from different backgrounds, families, and I feel that in a safe environment, we can use that to our advantage.  After all, 525 years is about 500 years older than me.  I like tackling the challenge of putting together math lessons that students feel like they can relate to, and they also have a chance of bringing something to the table for the lesson--something from their lives (if they're willing to share it).

Teaching is fun!  I get to experiment with so many factors to see how they affect my students and their learning: if I change the lighting, put different smells in the classroom, how does it seem to affect them?  What kind of assessments do my students enjoy, eager to show me what they've learned?  Which lessons do they keep bringing up throughout the year--because it meant something to them, resonated with them?  Why did a specific lesson fall apart and blow up?  It's challenging, hard, yet so fascinating.  I really like teaching.  I learn so much from it.  And I absolutely love learning.

Lastly, to those who shake their heads, commenting on how little I earn in terms of money, I say this: I only want a roof, food, clothes, and transportation.  I absolutely enjoy what I'm doing, why try to convince me that I want more?  I don't.  Teaching gives me something that money can't buy.

Lastly, if you enjoy passionate poetry slams, I highly recommend Taylor Mali's What Teachers Make.  (This is the censored version, you can find the original on youtube, if you wish.)

The end.