If people only knew what I listened to while running

"Everyday is a good day when you run."

-Kevin Nelson

If people actually knew what I listened to when I was running they would think I was crazy.  I listen to my music blasting loud, the loudest setting available without deafening myself.  I need music that has a fast beat, a lot of bass, and from time to time a few curse words.  I should invent in App where runners can share their playlists- except then everyone around me would be appalled.  

I don't think there was an exact date or time when I started running competitively.  I was an active child, god bless my parents for carting me around to various practices, typically two different sports per night all throughout middle and high school.  Looking back now, I'm not sure how they did it and still managed to have a life of their own.  My mom never missed a single game or event I ever participated in until college when I was too far.  Oh, except that one basketball game where I finally scored my first ever basket.  I've forgiven her for that, I was treated with a lobster dinner :) Thanks mom and dad!

I started playing soccer at the age of 5 which was the first organized sport I ever participated in.  There was a lot of running, or if you're familiar with 5 year old's playing soccer, there is a lot of chasing.  I'm sure I ran around like a goon with the rest of the kids; I distinctly remember the time they made me play goalie, I was so bored I was doing cartwheels.  I'm a busy body, what can I say.  As I got older I learned how fast a runner I was.  I could out-sprint any of the girls on my team.  And my endurance was surprising to even myself.  Running sprints, running a mile, running up and down the field I was fast and I was proud.  I hated basketball, one because I was short and two because there wasn't enough room to run.  The court was too short and I didn't have the best ball handling skills.  

It wasn't until my senior year of high school that I began running competitively.  I had suffered too many concussions and injuries to be cleared to play any "contact" sports and because I loved running and needed something to do with my time, I chose to join the track team.  I excelled fairly quickly.  Within the first 4months my 4x800 running team qualified for the New England Invitational and I placed top 10 in the state of Vermont for 50 yard dash.  And although I was short, I did pretty well at high jump too, clearing 5'10" while I only stood at 5'2".  

I ran my first marathon when I was a senior in high school.  When I got to college I was recruited to play lacrosse and because my past medical records weren't required to be released to the university, I played.  Unfortunately during spring training in Florida my freshmen year, I fractured my pelvis and was forced to take some time off.  Once recovered I joined the rugby team where my speed was my weapon.  You couldn't get passed me.  My senior year of college I fractured my face in 3 places.  Maybe you're beginning to sense a trend with my injuries, hence why running turned out to be the best activity for me. 

It turned out that running was a strength of mine.  It never really required much effort, just loud, obnoxious music to fuel the mileage.  Running became an outlet- a delightful activity with a chaotic mix of loud sounds.  If you only knew what I listened to while I was running.

Selebrating Milk

"I have decided to stick with love.  Hate is too great a burden to bear."

-Martin Luther King Jr.

Today was Monday.  A new week, same routines, same students, but a new outlook for many of my 3rd graders.

I had a student barge into my room this morning with more enthusiasm than usual on a typically day.  

"Today is milk day!" he exclaimed. 

"Today is what?" I asked chuckling.

"It's milk day!"

"What is milk day?" I asked

"You know, where we celebrate white milk AND chocolate milk!"

So, either this student misinterpreted the abbreviation MLK Day and thought it to be something completely different than it is?  Or he was making a clever connection between Martin Luther King Jr.'s fight for black and white equality thus assuming milk was involved.  For the sake of my teaching reputation, I'll assume he meant the latter comment.

We continued our conversation as I probed for more information about his interpretation of this momentous day and it's celebration.  It turns out, to my surprise (not really), that he had misheard his parents discussing MLK day while also believing that milk was spelled "mlk".  Phonetically correct if you're an average 9 year old child that pronounces milk "melk".  I guess I have some teaching to do.

We begin each morning in my classroom with morning meeting once all of my students arrive.  We recite the pledge, we read the school announcements, we take attendance, we read the morning message and we share.  Sometimes we read, play a game, or greet one another.  Today I changed things up a bit, wanting to focus on educating and reteaching students the importance and significance of today.

It started with a generic conversation about who Martin Luther King Jr. is, what he did, and why it was important.  Most students already had enough background knowledge and a brief understanding to participate in the discussion, excluding the child who had his hands down his pants (much more important, I presume).  Next, I asked my students if they knew why Dr.King dedicated his life and advocated and worked so hard for black and white equality and my students weren't quite sure how to answer.  Instead of telling them, I began showing the movie "Remember the Titans".  It happens to be one of my favorite films (memorized line by line, of course) and a perfect example of life at this time.  If you're not familiar with the movie it can be summarized as follows...

*Spolier Alert*

In a racially segregated town in suburban Virginia, an all-white and an all-black school were combined to create a new high school.  A black man was hired to be head coach of the all black school, but when the schools integrated he is given the head coaching position over the former, highly qualified, white head coach. The movie depicts how both adults and students, both black and white, treated one another during this time. The movie is based on true events of 1971.  This small town football team becomes the unifying symbol for the community as the boys and adults learn to coexist, accept and respect one another, and work together as a true team.

There are parts of the movie I purposely intended to pass over because they were unnecessary to the story line and not particularly appropriate for 3rd graders.  Nothing major, just silly locked rooms scenes.  What I really wanted to illustrate for my students was how white and blacks treated one another and spoke to one another.  This movie is a perfect, real life, age appropriate example of how life was for these high school students who's job was to receive and education and how difficult it was because of the color of their skin. There was a great deal of dialogue that my students exchanged with other another during the film.  We stopped often to discuss quotes and scenes. They were surprised by how the characters spoke to one another and how mistreated so many African Americans were, especially the young, innocent students.  While we didn't finish the movie today we will continue to view it in small doses so that my class can really grasp the important concept of accepting anyone regardless of race, sex, religion, beliefs, etc.

Even my most troubled students, students who are often reprimanded for their actions and unkind words (bullying, if you will), were some of my more vocal students during conversation.  Many of my 3rd graders were surprised to learn how white parents and students treated those of a different race. It was beautiful (to say the least) to see how they were able to make connections and voice their opinions on right and wrong actions.  Hopefully this type of exposure and these real life examples will help my students to better understand the meaning of equality, fairness, and freedom for all.

So tonight, let's all raise a glass of milk and toast to Doctor Martin Luther King Jr. for teaching us that white and black are simply two different colors just like white milk and chocolate milk are merely two different flavors that all deserve celebrating.

Another delightfully chaotic day in the books.  One down, four more to go!

Having my Cupcake and Eating it Too

"Careful with that light at the end of the tunnel, it might be another train coming."

-Anonymous

Did I say cupcake?  Because I really meant 6.

ALL SIX

It was one of those days; a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.  I went to bed and woke up feeling crumby.  Sore throat, post nasal drip, hot and cold flashes, achy and tired.  It comes with the territory of teaching I guess, so many germs constantly circulating.  I can't pick up a pencil without touching, at least, 3 boogers.  Why can't kids keep their fingers out of there noses?  Or flush the toilet.  Or not pee on the toilet seat.  Or keep their hands out of their pants.  Kids are gross.

To add to my feeling low, I started my period.  So add bloated and crampy to the list.  And of course, I didn't have any tampons at school or in my purse.  UGH.  For someone who is typically always prepared, I was just down and out of luck.  And then I got a run in my tights!! And with no hesitation I repaired it with scotch tape.  Yep, I'm a resourceful teacher.  I had a student get sick, one who crawled on the floor all class, and one who thought that saying Moby Dick instead of the actual swear word wouldn't get him into trouble.  Nice disguise, kid. Another boy who peed his pants, one who tried flushing a diaper down the toilet, and one who spit in a another students ear.  I swear I work in an insane asylum.  Bunch of wild animals.  And this was nowhere near my worst day! 

Last year, I had a student bring an electric powered sawzall to school in his backpack.  This was also the same student who colored allover a teachers Dansko clogs , called 9-1-1 during a dance party, threw a students hearing aids in the trash, hid my smartboard markers in multiple places around the room, and colored with permanent marker on my whiteboard. I've told you before, you can't make this stuff up!!

Let's not forget to chalk up a win for my most difficult student who, on more than several occasions, has threatened to kill me.  I'll save his latest story for another day.

So now as I'm home and reflecting on my day, half laughing at this nonsense yet still feeling like crap, I plan to indulge in the jumbo cupcakes I purchased at Costco on my way home from school.  So please excuse me while I develop an eating disorder for the next hour and eat dis order of cupcakes.

Another chaotic day in the books, but boy do these cupcakes look delightful!

Ps.  Sydney just peed on Ryan in her sleep.  She "leaks" in her sleep from time to time.  I'll take it as a sign that tomorrow will be better; my luck is already turning around, she didn't pee on me :)

What's In A Name?

Giving Credit Where Credit is due

I do have to give credit where credit is due.  The most difficult part of beginning a blog was coming up with a catchy, edgy title that wasn't too cliche, already taken, or just lame.  I let it stew for a while, contemplated some different, mostly dull, titles that just didn't fit.  It wasn't until I was bored and cleaning old pictures from my phone that I came across the quote below.  I regularly find myself taking screen shots of inspirational and motivational quotes and photo's for some mid-day (or in my line of work, mid-morning) pick-me-ups.

Now, before you accuse me of being self centered please don't take the above quote as gloating or implying that loving me is the greatest thing you'll ever experience (HA).  Remove the 3rd person references and simply regard the adjectives delightful, beautiful, mess, splendid, chaotic- all considerable words to explain how I view my life. I do however, like to think that the mess-of-a-girl I typically am could be somewhat in someway be considered as beautiful?  Don't try to convince me that sweatpants and pony tails aren't striking.  What could be more raw or beautiful than a sweaty, exhausted, girl stuffing her face? Because when you don't see me existing in the real world with pants on, I'm in pajama's and sweats and I'm most likely eating.  And it's probably candy.  Don't be fooled.

The term "delightfully chaotic" is like an oxymoron.  Delightful, by definition means "greatly pleasing," beautiful, and charming.  All things that I consider my life to be;  beautiful, charming, pleasing, a true blessing- absolutely delightful.  Some of you who know my life, in particular my illnesses and injuries and just bad luck, might wonder how I can speak positively about such events.  Remember that delightful doesn't mean perfect, or ideal, or even great or amazing because, let's be real, life doesn't always treat us so politely.  I'm not the type of girl who falls into mud and comes out clean (curse those people who do).  But life is delightful; its surprises, anomalies, triumphs, and failures and pains.  There is something delightful about what we learn, accomplish, and experience on a day-to-day basis.  My job isn't always easy, my runs aren't always fast, my mood isn't always cheery, and my meals aren't always healthy.  I'm human.   But there is something to be said about how life's disasters and successes withhold a certain beauty.  Think about it; a beautiful mess.

There is no doubt that life is chaotic.  It's busy, it's fast paced, and not many can honestly and seriously say they have found the perfect balance between sleep, family, jobs, second jobs, degree's, working out and everything else life throws at us on a daily basis without loosing their cool every once in a while.  Life is chaotic, my life is certainly chaotic.  But life is still, nonetheless, delightfully chaotic, a beautiful mess, and a splendid adventure.  It's your choice to decide how to view it, live it, how to perceive it, and how to embrace each and every mess you find yourself in.  Somehow, make it delightfully chaotic.  

Apologizing to the Snowman

"A dog is the only thing on earth that loves you more than he loves himself."

-Josh Billings

Just as suspected, I knew it wouldn't take Sydney long before she made it onto the blog.

For those of you who don't personally know Sydney, you will before long.  She's an (almost) 2 year old chocolate lab.  There are many different words I could use to describe her like hyper, loving, stubborn, wimp, and weirdo.  And, there are more that you will come to know that I do not wish to disclose (admit) at this time.  She is exactly what I imagine an infant, mixed with a toddler, and a preteen to be.  A "pretodfant" if you will.  I would agree that I can't make a child/dog comparison given that I'm not actually parent (I like to think of myself as a single mother), but managing 60 children ages 6-9 each day gives me enough clearance to accurately speculate.  If you have both small children AND a dog, I dare you to make a comparison that disproves my above statement.

With that being said, Sydney has always been a chewer.  Granted she is still young and still considered a "puppy" she will gladly chew anything she sink her teeth into.  She loves rawhide and other treats like most canines but she especially likes items she can chew that make loud noises and she prefers plastic and wood to the more traditional dog toys.  Squeak, honk, jingle, bang; you name it, we have it. Empty plastic water bottles are her favorite and thankfully she isn't picky about the style or type of wood she chooses to indulge in.  Painted, stained, smooth, pressure-treated, you name it; I knew I didn't raise a picky pooch.

Unfortunately, and to my demise, who would have guessed that wood would (see what I did there?) be difficult for the body to digest?  Weird concept, I know.

Like the time she consumed my wooden drying rack...including the innocent clothes that draped over the bars.

THIS is exactly why we can't have nice things.

Or there was the time she ate the wooden molding around the frame of my door.  Or the time she ate the boomerang I designed and hand painted while living in Australia.  Or the time she was too tired to stand after a long hike, yet managed to lay flat on her stomach and gnaw through a painted, pressure-treated plank that was the deck, as she delicately placed the nails and screws aside.

Something is missing...

Or yesterday, when she tortured the poor snowman in the entryway, stealing and severing his arm to earn her own personal delight in what I'm sure was a time of distinct desperation and need.  If you look close enough, I believe there are tears slowly melting down the snowman's face, as his welcome sign hangs  aside.  If I were missing an arm, I wouldn't welcome many guests either.

Of course no living anatomy could possibly begin to digest splinters of wood in any form.  And as all other wood eating adventures have ended, I knew in addition to the shards of wood that needed to be cleaned, that the vomit would surely arise (no pun intended), it was all just a matter of time.

As I arrived home from school I was surprised to neither see nor smell signs of Sydney's remorse.  After my run, still no sign of Frosty's limb.  After eating her dinner surely her stomach would refuse, but still nothing.

Of course, it wasn't until Sydney's perfectly timed 2:30am heaving that I awoke in shock in a black room scrambling for the light switch, screaming for her to get off of the bed.  She puked on the carpet runner, not once but twice.  I stood there in my tired daze, eyes squinted, watching, an intense scowl consuming my face as my ponytail hung before my eyes as I continued to watch her retch, cursing her for eating the damn twig that made the poor snowman whole.  And then as her finale, she puked on the dog bed that lay of the foot of the California king.  In case you didn't know, the ENTIRE bedroom is hard wood floor EXCEPT for the 1' by 7' carpet runner and temper-pedic dog bed and she chose to puke on both.  Shame on you, Sydney.  So, I spot treated the carpet while I muttered under my breath, retching myself as I scooped wood and undigested innards from the floor .  I could hear Sydney crying from the deck door as I sponged and dried.

Being the suck-up she is, she waddled back inside, crept down the hallway, and snuggled under the covers to continue her slumber, placing her head on my chest as I switched off the light.  What can I say, I'm a sucker for a cute face.  And no mother would ever push her sick child away, am I right?

Sydney, you leave my life nothing short of delightful but always just a little too chaotic.

An Outpouring of Support

"When you practice gratefulness, there is a sense of respect toward others"
 - The Dalai Lama 

Wow!  I believe a massive "thank you" is in order for all of the calls, texts, messages, comments, and "likes" I received after announcing the start-up of my blog.  First of all, I'm thankful for the support, encouragement, and kind words but I'm also surprised by the impact it seems to have made thus far.  What good is a blog if no one is interested, reads, or pays attention?  YOU are a part of this process and I can't express how grateful I am that you're sharing it with me.

With that being said, I openly welcome any suggestions, comments, criticisms, requests etc. for what you'd like to see or hear and what you don't.  Unfortunately you'll be succumbed to reading quite a bit of nonsense, countless rants, useless information, and unbelievably true tales from an elementary teacher (seriously though, you can't make this stuff up!) regardless of what you'd like to see, that is assuming you decide to stick around.

My goal is to post each day whether it be a thought, story, project, rant, classroom activity, photo, quote, adventure, run, whathaveyou.  All true, all delightful and chaotic.

So, About This Whole "Blog" Thing

Here's to hoping I don't suck *cheers!*

I've never really payed much attention to the so called "blogging world" that has become so popular in the last few years.  I have however, stumbled across several that sparked an interest; not an interest to start my own blog, but an interest to pay a bit closer attention.

So, now that I've made it official and decided to start my own, I'm hoping it won't turn out to be a flop, a boring strand of words strung together that no one wants to venture into. I do hope instead that some may find it enlightening, humorous, and a break from the mundane. 

I guess I figured I was just as interesting and entertaining (toot toot) as some other not-so-interesting people I know who have found success and happiness in writing down what they ate for breakfast and how many times they chewed each bite (let's be real, we don't need to know EVERYTHING).

From my (newly establish) life as a teacher, my running and training, being a "single mother" (my chocolate lab!), undergoing my Masters Degree in Mathematics, my gluten free and clean eating habits (excluding candy), and my long, always growing list of medical disorders, disasters and accidents, I'm hoping to keep readers interested and entertained throughout my journey.

For those of you who may not already know me very well, you'll probably come to learn a lot more than you bargained for.  Before long, you'll come to know Sydney, my cute, lovable, naughty little chocolate lab, who provides more entertainment than I begin to describe in words. I foresee her becoming a "regular" before long.

If I haven't lost you already, continue to follow along as I share my "delightfully chaotic" journey through my life that is anything but "normal" but most certainly delightful and chaotic.