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<?xml-stylesheet type="text/xsl" media="screen" href="/~d/styles/rss2full.xsl"?><?xml-stylesheet type="text/css" media="screen" href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~d/styles/itemcontent.css"?><rss xmlns:atom="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" xmlns:openSearch="http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearch/1.1/" xmlns:georss="http://www.georss.org/georss" xmlns:feedburner="http://rssnamespace.org/feedburner/ext/1.0" version="2.0"><channel><atom:id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4768545621473427558</atom:id><lastBuildDate>Thu, 12 Nov 2009 16:43:17 +0000</lastBuildDate><title>Catholic Teacher Musings</title><description>Lessons, life, and laughs.</description><link>http://teachermuse.blogspot.com/</link><managingEditor>catholicteachermusings@yahoo.com (Laura)</managingEditor><generator>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>594</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><atom10:link xmlns:atom10="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" rel="self" href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/blogspot/sjEN" type="application/rss+xml" /><feedburner:browserFriendly></feedburner:browserFriendly><atom10:link xmlns:atom10="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" rel="hub" href="http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com" /><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4768545621473427558.post-2334160814148006456</guid><pubDate>Thu, 12 Nov 2009 11:34:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-11-12T06:51:33.759-05:00</atom:updated><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">Teacher Stuff</category><title>My  Night Before Parent/Teacher Conferences Dream</title><description>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_UVt1kubWe4A/Svv2P3ERzDI/AAAAAAAAD2s/ImXhb7W0JjM/s1600-h/0snakes.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5403182930301406258" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 154px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_UVt1kubWe4A/Svv2P3ERzDI/AAAAAAAAD2s/ImXhb7W0JjM/s200/0snakes.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;I may not keep this post up because well....it's just plain weird; however, I thought some folks might be interested in reading about the odd dreams that a teacher (even a seasoned one) can have before parent/teacher conferences.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;strong&gt;Normally, I enjoy dream analysis, but this dream I had last night seems a bit twisted.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;I decide to go to Florida&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;because work has been stressful.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;I call for airline tickets to purchase a special deal and &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;because of that I don't have any paper work to&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;remind me of the time of the flight.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;I run to the airport taking &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;all kinds of weird paths through&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;restaurants and car dealerships.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;My name is paged.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;I am late for my flight.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;I frantically arrive at the counter&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;and realize I don't have my luggage. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;I left it in the car.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;I consider going to Florida without it &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;and buying clothes there.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;I look at the clock and also realize &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;that I never hired a substitute for my classes.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;I change my mind and decide I can't go to Florida.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;I try to walk back to my car and find myself lost in &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;a sea of crowded sidewalks full of eateries and kiosks.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;One of my 8&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt; graders steps into my path&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;and tells me that we can do a &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;zip line&lt;/span&gt; over the river to reach the parking lot.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;So we do just that, but my harness isn't on properly and&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;I begin to panic while up in the air.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;As I ride the rope above the river&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;I can see snakes swimming below.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;The end.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;img class="centered" alt="post signature" src="http://i268.photobucket.com/albums/jj12/dcrdesign/siggy-15.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4768545621473427558-2334160814148006456?l=teachermuse.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://teachermuse.blogspot.com/2009/11/my-night-before-parent-teacher.html</link><author>catholicteachermusings@yahoo.com (Laura)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_UVt1kubWe4A/Svv2P3ERzDI/AAAAAAAAD2s/ImXhb7W0JjM/s72-c/0snakes.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">2</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4768545621473427558.post-2245559247758459067</guid><pubDate>Wed, 11 Nov 2009 11:27:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-11-11T07:22:08.863-05:00</atom:updated><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">family</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">veterans</category><title>Veterans Day: From France to the Pacific During WWII</title><description>For Veterans Day...&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_UVt1kubWe4A/Svqkp9OWRyI/AAAAAAAAD2k/ocHJ2P2p2Eg/s1600-h/0army.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5402811743700666146" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 142px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_UVt1kubWe4A/Svqkp9OWRyI/AAAAAAAAD2k/ocHJ2P2p2Eg/s200/0army.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;The following is a letter from my Great Uncle Dick, serving during WWII, to my father (Bill) on the battleship New Mexico.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Somewhere in France&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;July 30th 1944&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Dear Bill, &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Your welcome letter received and glad to hear you don't think it's so awful serving your country. You'll remember the 6 weeks at Bainbridge more than the rest of the training you receive. I know mine at Fort Eustis stands out the most. Can't say much about the navy for I don't know much, but with the army I found out after leaving the training center that the outfits you join do just the opposite from what you were taught. One thing you can be glad of is that your life in the Navy will be cleaner than what we have in the Army, for you'll not have the field work we do.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;You'll find out later that you won't have much time for letter writing, the spare time will be spent getting ready for inspections. We had them all the time in England and expect them in France, they help keep you on the ball. I'm glad that the fellows are around your age and that your buddy stays with you. Grandmother received your cards. Sounds like you have been busy.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;She has been down to Ocean City (N.J.) for a week and do you know she's mad because of the large number of surf boards? It keeps her from going out so far in the water...afraid they will knock her down. What a woman.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;You asked how things were in England. I can't say, for I haven't been there for awhile. It was darn cold there compared to France. We have been here since D-Day plus a month. There is not much I am allowed to say.We did hear the big guns when we first arrived, but with the way things are dying down- not much.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;They are on the move.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Enclosed is a franc note, the kind of money used by us since invasion time. They are made in Philly. It's worth 10 cents.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Well, fellow, write when you get the chance. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Best of luck and God Bless You,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Your Loving Uncle Dick&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img class="centered" alt="post signature" src="http://i268.photobucket.com/albums/jj12/dcrdesign/siggy-15.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4768545621473427558-2245559247758459067?l=teachermuse.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://teachermuse.blogspot.com/2009/11/from-france-to-pacific-during-wwii.html</link><author>catholicteachermusings@yahoo.com (Laura)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_UVt1kubWe4A/Svqkp9OWRyI/AAAAAAAAD2k/ocHJ2P2p2Eg/s72-c/0army.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">9</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4768545621473427558.post-1441175748577830022</guid><pubDate>Tue, 10 Nov 2009 10:33:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-11-10T06:34:17.937-05:00</atom:updated><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">A-Musings</category><title>The Curious Case of a Couple's Secret Language</title><description>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_UVt1kubWe4A/SvlBpvvovuI/AAAAAAAAD2U/vOX3M-lFZV8/s1600-h/0blanche.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5402421413454331618" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 333px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_UVt1kubWe4A/SvlBpvvovuI/AAAAAAAAD2U/vOX3M-lFZV8/s400/0blanche.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a name="qt0298327"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;BLANCHE:&lt;/span&gt; &lt;em&gt;You wouldn't be able to do &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;these awful things to me if I weren't still in this chair.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;EVIL JANE&lt;/span&gt;: &lt;em&gt;But ya are, Blanche. Ya are in that chair. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;**&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Because of this old, creepy movie, &lt;a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0056687/quotes"&gt;Whatever Happened to Baby Jane&lt;/a&gt;, &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"Blanche"&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt; responses run rampant in our home.&lt;br /&gt;You may ask, "What is a BLANCHE response? "&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;Me&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;: &lt;em&gt;Oh dag, I meant to buy paper towels at the store.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;Matt the Hot Husband&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;: &lt;em&gt;But ya didn't, Blanche.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;Matt the Hot Husband&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;: I was supposed to go to the board meeting.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;Me:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; But ya didn't Blanche.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;Me&lt;/span&gt;: &lt;/strong&gt;I wanted to go to the gym &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;after school&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;Matt the Hot Husband&lt;/span&gt;:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt; &lt;em&gt;But ya didn't, Blanche&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;Matt the Hot Husband&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;: I was gonna do laundry.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;Me&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;: But ya didn't, Blanche.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some married couples might do the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;baby talk&lt;/span&gt; thing&lt;br /&gt;when communicating-&lt;br /&gt;....some wives and husbands might call each other "Pumpkin,"&lt;br /&gt;and still others might throw raisins at each other to make a point.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Us?&lt;br /&gt;We mock a nutty 70-something woman who dresses up in a little&lt;br /&gt;girl's outfit and terrorizes her sister.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Is that so wrong?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img class="centered" alt="post signature" src="http://i268.photobucket.com/albums/jj12/dcrdesign/siggy-15.jpg" /&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4768545621473427558-1441175748577830022?l=teachermuse.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://teachermuse.blogspot.com/2009/11/curious-case-of-couples-secret-language.html</link><author>catholicteachermusings@yahoo.com (Laura)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_UVt1kubWe4A/SvlBpvvovuI/AAAAAAAAD2U/vOX3M-lFZV8/s72-c/0blanche.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">10</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4768545621473427558.post-3237640294807693444</guid><pubDate>Sun, 08 Nov 2009 23:58:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-11-09T20:15:07.356-05:00</atom:updated><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">Makes My Monday</category><title>Crazy Sunday Weather and Packages Make My Monday</title><description>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_UVt1kubWe4A/SvdBv4QVa5I/AAAAAAAAD2M/KoTKl6JON_M/s1600-h/01sun.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5401858568864754578" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 154px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_UVt1kubWe4A/SvdBv4QVa5I/AAAAAAAAD2M/KoTKl6JON_M/s200/01sun.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Sunday in DC was spectacular. Light breezes and sunshine all day.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;After Mass, we decided to stroll down to the&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Museum of American History &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;to see what they know.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_UVt1kubWe4A/SvdAJlamBrI/AAAAAAAAD2E/3PAWEHvXCeM/s1600-h/IMG_6500.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5401856811460855474" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_UVt1kubWe4A/SvdAJlamBrI/AAAAAAAAD2E/3PAWEHvXCeM/s320/IMG_6500.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; *&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;This Revolutionary War soldier (below) greeted us at the beginning&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;of the military history display.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I think he was out of rum &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;and not too happy about it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UVt1kubWe4A/SvdADmUc9xI/AAAAAAAAD18/8gtvoD3nQtc/s1600-h/IMG_6503.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5401856708624316178" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UVt1kubWe4A/SvdADmUc9xI/AAAAAAAAD18/8gtvoD3nQtc/s320/IMG_6503.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; *&lt;br /&gt;As always, I like to take a peek at the ruby slippers.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Yes, they look the same every time I see them.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I'm just keepin' the Oz magic alive.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_UVt1kubWe4A/Svc_-2as54I/AAAAAAAAD10/iix_Ooxlbqc/s1600-h/IMG_6505.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5401856627046147970" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_UVt1kubWe4A/Svc_-2as54I/AAAAAAAAD10/iix_Ooxlbqc/s320/IMG_6505.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; *&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;We decided to jay walk and see where this tunnel leads.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Who knew?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;There is a Woodrow Wilson Plaza on the other side.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I've only lived here 47 years.....how should I know?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;(That's Matt the Hot Husband strolling ahead.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_UVt1kubWe4A/Svc_6A0LnaI/AAAAAAAAD1s/tJh_JDUrZFo/s1600-h/IMG_6509.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5401856543938026914" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_UVt1kubWe4A/Svc_6A0LnaI/AAAAAAAAD1s/tJh_JDUrZFo/s320/IMG_6509.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; *&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;After we returned home and evening set in, I realized I never picked up yesterday's mail.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Hello? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;What can make a girl happy when she's already happy?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;New boots.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Thank you DSW.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_UVt1kubWe4A/Svc_w1omlcI/AAAAAAAAD1k/-MeLOmMhJsY/s1600-h/IMG_6511.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5401856386317850050" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_UVt1kubWe4A/Svc_w1omlcI/AAAAAAAAD1k/-MeLOmMhJsY/s320/IMG_6511.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lovely weekend outings and new boots.....&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;Make My Monday.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;And you?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img class="centered" alt="post signature" src="http://i268.photobucket.com/albums/jj12/dcrdesign/siggy-15.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Visit &lt;a href="http://www.twinfatuation.blogspot.com/"&gt;Cheryl &lt;/a&gt;for more.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4768545621473427558-3237640294807693444?l=teachermuse.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://teachermuse.blogspot.com/2009/11/crazy-sunday-weather-and-packages-makes.html</link><author>catholicteachermusings@yahoo.com (Laura)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_UVt1kubWe4A/SvdBv4QVa5I/AAAAAAAAD2M/KoTKl6JON_M/s72-c/01sun.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">8</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4768545621473427558.post-3789450638181977601</guid><pubDate>Thu, 05 Nov 2009 22:25:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-11-05T18:43:26.204-05:00</atom:updated><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">Bad Poetry</category><title>Achooo....  Bad Haiku</title><description>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_UVt1kubWe4A/SvNSIv_r18I/AAAAAAAAD1c/dDCwFkBctrI/s1600-h/0ctm.bmp"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5400750688423368642" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 136px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_UVt1kubWe4A/SvNSIv_r18I/AAAAAAAAD1c/dDCwFkBctrI/s200/0ctm.bmp" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_UVt1kubWe4A/SvNSCEU8rQI/AAAAAAAAD1U/qQNUyaf7rdY/s1600-h/0cbh971212bwc.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5400750573622177026" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 192px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_UVt1kubWe4A/SvNSCEU8rQI/AAAAAAAAD1U/qQNUyaf7rdY/s320/0cbh971212bwc.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;She&lt;/em&gt; coughs...&lt;em&gt;He&lt;/em&gt; shudders.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;He&lt;/em&gt; blows his nose....&lt;em&gt;She&lt;/em&gt; winces.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Swine flu suspicions.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img class="centered" alt="post signature" src="http://i268.photobucket.com/albums/jj12/dcrdesign/siggy-15.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4768545621473427558-3789450638181977601?l=teachermuse.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://teachermuse.blogspot.com/2009/11/hi-flu-bad-haiku.html</link><author>catholicteachermusings@yahoo.com (Laura)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_UVt1kubWe4A/SvNSIv_r18I/AAAAAAAAD1c/dDCwFkBctrI/s72-c/0ctm.bmp" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">11</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4768545621473427558.post-4628207830938261515</guid><pubDate>Wed, 04 Nov 2009 04:10:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-11-04T05:50:35.127-05:00</atom:updated><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">social justice issues</category><title>On Homelessness</title><description>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UVt1kubWe4A/SvDdJtQ7I9I/AAAAAAAAD1M/U6DxfvJ6EdA/s1600-h/0homeless.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5400059112056366034" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 124px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UVt1kubWe4A/SvDdJtQ7I9I/AAAAAAAAD1M/U6DxfvJ6EdA/s200/0homeless.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I am a member of a social justice ministry group called &lt;a href="http://www.justfaith.org/"&gt;Just Faith&lt;/a&gt;. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;In summary, we read books, watch videos, pray about, and discuss at length issues of poverty, human rights, and faithful citizenship. Recently, one of our meetings specifically focused on the struggles of the homeless and we were fortunate enough to have a 53 year-0ld man, George, as our speaker on the subject. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;This is his story.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;George grew up in foster care homes. By the time he was 16, he had bounced from one home to another and never found one in which he could remain for any significant amount of time. School was never a happy place for him either because he did not do well in his classes and he was also a behavior problem. As a result, George was expelled from high school at 16. The foster care system did not want to deal with him anymore so they suggested he request emancipation. Since George didn't really understand what emancipation meant (except he would be the boss of himself), he requested it. Emancipation was granted and George began what would be a thirty year era of life on the streets. He hitchhiked, begged, and slept wherever he could.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;Eventually, mental illness seeped in and he couldn't quite remember from year to year how he lived or managed to survive.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Life changed about 7 years ago.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;One moment.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;One woman.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;One act of kindness.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;George was on the street in Washington, DC and a lady stopped and asked if she could help him.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;At first he was reluctant.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;He had been to shelters before. Shelters were loud and scary. Other homeless people paced the floors at night and tried to steal the few items you owned. He did not want to go to a shelter.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The lady, however, was asking him to come have coffee with her at a building called &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.cchfp.org/about-us.html"&gt;Friendship Place.&lt;/a&gt; Friendship Place has a center where folks who are homeless can have a cup of coffee and if desired, meet with a case worker for assistance. Eventually, George found help at the center and created a network of support that has taken him off the streets. Medicine, social security, and counseling have all been provided to George and made him a success story. Currently, he lives in an apartment in DC and spends much of his time studying for his G.E.D. and speaking all over the country about homelessness issues.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;***&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I asked George, "If you could advise well-meaning people to do one specific thing when they encounter homeless people, what would it be?"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;George replied slowly and deliberately, "Look at them. Say hi. Ask them their names. Make a connection."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;He went on to explain that the isolation is the most damaging component to homelessness and that isolation quickly leads to depression and paranoia in many.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;He mentioned other items that a homeless person might appreciate...a granola bar, a piece of fruit, or a pair of socks.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Then George challenged us by saying,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"You want to know what a homeless person needs?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;Walk up and ask him."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img class="centered" alt="post signature" src="http://i268.photobucket.com/albums/jj12/dcrdesign/siggy-15.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4768545621473427558-4628207830938261515?l=teachermuse.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://teachermuse.blogspot.com/2009/11/on-homelessness.html</link><author>catholicteachermusings@yahoo.com (Laura)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UVt1kubWe4A/SvDdJtQ7I9I/AAAAAAAAD1M/U6DxfvJ6EdA/s72-c/0homeless.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">9</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4768545621473427558.post-5187292374277559924</guid><pubDate>Tue, 03 Nov 2009 21:00:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-11-03T16:45:26.108-05:00</atom:updated><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">Parent Stuff</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">Teacher Stuff</category><title>The Teacher Gift Question</title><description>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_UVt1kubWe4A/SvCjwrs2unI/AAAAAAAAD1E/RVgrIdWp748/s1600-h/CTM+vintage.png"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5399996009977133682" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 257px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 122px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_UVt1kubWe4A/SvCjwrs2unI/AAAAAAAAD1E/RVgrIdWp748/s320/CTM+vintage.png" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_UVt1kubWe4A/SgoR9guzpjI/AAAAAAAADCU/Vra4yzPvVR0/s1600-h/0Apple2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5335096457029723698" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 155px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_UVt1kubWe4A/SgoR9guzpjI/AAAAAAAADCU/Vra4yzPvVR0/s200/0Apple2.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;With Christmas coming...I have had requests concerning teacher presents.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;This post is about end-of the-year presents and thank you notes but some of you may find some value in it if you've never read this before.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;Read on....&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;In response &lt;a href="http://teachermuse.blogspot.com/2009/04/teacher-talks-back.html"&gt;to your questions about teacher presents....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;A thoughtful thank you note.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;That is the best teacher gift.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;If a teacher has helped to make your child's year better...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;If a teacher has taught your child new ways to look at the world through books, writing, stories, songs, or history...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;If a teacher spent extra time with your child..&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;If a teacher bent the rules a little for your child because he/she saw the big picture...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;If a teacher strengthened your child's faith in God...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;If a teacher showed your child how to be a better friend...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;If a teacher raised the bar just enough to help your child achieve greater goals..&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;If a teacher helped your child to recognize hidden talents..&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;If a teacher encouraged your child to know the value of hard work...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;If a teacher helped your child to like school...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;If a teacher guided your child through a rough patch...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;If a teacher provided opportunities for your child to shine...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;If a teacher did a fine job of teaching your child how to write, to read, to do word problems, to complete a science lab, to pray a novena, to analyze a doctrine, or to play Canadian doubles...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;If a teacher worked hard all year to be a &lt;em&gt;good&lt;/em&gt; teacher to your child....&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;tell the teacher in a hand-written note.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;The note doesn't have to be long or be carefully worded.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Dear Mrs. Smith,&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Thank you for the wonderful job you have done teaching John math this year. He has shown great improvement in all areas of problem solving thanks to you. We appreciate all of your hard work.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Have a terrific, relaxing summer.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Sincerely,&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;The Parker Family&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;Simple, sweet, and thoughtful.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;*** &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;For some of you, I know this is not enough. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;You want to give another kind of present as well.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I will not disappoint.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;After much thinking , here is a list of some of &lt;strong&gt;my&lt;/strong&gt; favorite teacher gifts (besides the beloved letters of appreciation). &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;NOTE: These are gifts that were given to me that I very much enjoyed.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Every teacher is different so this is not a suggestion list...but perhaps you may find an idea which you like that suits your teacher.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;1. A beach bag with a 2 liter bottle of soda, flip flops, chips, and a People magazine. ( I LOVED this.)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;2. A fair trade change purse&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;3. Fair trade coffee&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;4. A bottle of wine (a very funny note was attached to this). From this particular parent the gift was very amusing and heartfelt. It had been a hard year for both of us.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;5. A large supply of colorful markers for my classroom white board (Because the student heard me moan and groan all year about not having enough.)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;6. Certificate to the movies/restaurant.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;7. Starbucks gift card.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;8. Books- collections of poetry/ favorite authors/ favorite genres/travel books/gift card&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;9. Art made by students....crosses, dishes, paintings&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;10. Schoolhouse Rock magnets (Because the student knew I love to sing those songs.)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;11. A clock with a big smile on it. (Because I called the student "Smiling Jack" all year.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;12. A handmade Burger King gift certificate (Because the student knew I LOVED Burger King.)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Any gift that brings a personal message of appreciation and thoughtfulness is a good gift.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;However, I still wholeheartedly submit that taking an hour one evening with your child to write end-of-the-year thank you notes/cards to give to teachers would be wonderful for your teachers, wonderful for your child, and wonderful for your wallets. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;(You can always tape some chocolate to the envelope if you so desire.)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Did I forget to mention chocolate?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;How silly of me.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img class="centered" alt="post signature" src="http://i268.photobucket.com/albums/jj12/dcrdesign/siggy-15.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Great suggestions from &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;comment box&lt;/span&gt;.....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;From &lt;a href="http://the-mother-load.blogspot.com/"&gt;Aimee &lt;/a&gt;- a donation to a worthy cause in the teacher's name&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;From &lt;a href="http://www.blogger.com/profile/12112479764398508654"&gt;Terra-&lt;/a&gt; a photo album/scrapbook of the year&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;From &lt;a href="http://thepictureyousee.blogspot.com/"&gt;Emily&lt;/a&gt;- a pedicure certificate OR a child's favorite book to be added to the class library!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;From&lt;a href="http://www.blogger.com/profile/07505258364895249347"&gt; Elizabeth&lt;/a&gt;- a Mass said for the teacher. (wow)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4768545621473427558-5187292374277559924?l=teachermuse.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://teachermuse.blogspot.com/2009/05/teacher-gift-question.html</link><author>catholicteachermusings@yahoo.com (Laura)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_UVt1kubWe4A/SvCjwrs2unI/AAAAAAAAD1E/RVgrIdWp748/s72-c/CTM+vintage.png" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">20</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4768545621473427558.post-6499611857139504504</guid><pubDate>Tue, 03 Nov 2009 11:42:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-11-03T16:40:06.929-05:00</atom:updated><title>Relics</title><description>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_UVt1kubWe4A/SvAXXkauZXI/AAAAAAAAD08/l4Ip8tV1BLI/s1600-h/IMG_6466.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5399841646897423730" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_UVt1kubWe4A/SvAXXkauZXI/AAAAAAAAD08/l4Ip8tV1BLI/s320/IMG_6466.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; For All Saints Day my church displayed its holy relics collection on the side of the altar.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I've never really quite known where to put this part of my church's tradition.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I do respect these relics;however, at the same time they can leave me feeling uncomfortable.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;To stand in front of nearly 20 objects that were used by or were part of &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;some of the holiest people that ever lived... is most definitely awe-inspiring.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;But, there is the other component here.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Frankly, the strand of hair or the piece of bone from a dead person&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;has a tendency to make me a little queasy.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Relics that are pieces of garments or splinters of wood &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;are much more agreeable to my comfort level.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;Relics are part of the fascinating history of Catholicism.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I know that family members have passed down relics through the generations,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;but I don't necessarily see myself&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;ever requesting possession of those.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;*&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Grandmother's teacups? That's another story.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img class="centered" alt="post signature" src="http://i268.photobucket.com/albums/jj12/dcrdesign/siggy-15.jpg" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4768545621473427558-6499611857139504504?l=teachermuse.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://teachermuse.blogspot.com/2009/11/relics.html</link><author>catholicteachermusings@yahoo.com (Laura)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_UVt1kubWe4A/SvAXXkauZXI/AAAAAAAAD08/l4Ip8tV1BLI/s72-c/IMG_6466.JPG" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">3</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4768545621473427558.post-7397504253176861949</guid><pubDate>Mon, 02 Nov 2009 11:51:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-11-02T07:15:49.903-05:00</atom:updated><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">Makes My Monday</category><title>Weekend Views: Make My Monday</title><description>&lt;a href="http://www.twinfatuation.blogspot.com/"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5399474041359974690" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 185px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 169px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_UVt1kubWe4A/Su7JCHE0QSI/AAAAAAAAD00/hSUPfStmnNg/s200/000makes.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A Good View Makes My Monday...&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_UVt1kubWe4A/Su7IRxWmd_I/AAAAAAAAD0s/aP_uaOYhaIY/s1600-h/IMG_6471.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5399473210895267826" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_UVt1kubWe4A/Su7IRxWmd_I/AAAAAAAAD0s/aP_uaOYhaIY/s320/IMG_6471.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt; This view of my niece showing her support of her brother's amazing high school soccer team.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;**&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UVt1kubWe4A/Su7H4qkd4lI/AAAAAAAAD0c/ZZtIrS3UY68/s1600-h/IMG_6467.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5399472779577647698" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UVt1kubWe4A/Su7H4qkd4lI/AAAAAAAAD0c/ZZtIrS3UY68/s320/IMG_6467.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt; This view of George Washington Parkway along the Potomac River; we enjoy these picturesque sights every Sunday on our ride to and from Mass in downtown DC.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;**&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5399472995463524242" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_UVt1kubWe4A/Su7IFOzq75I/AAAAAAAAD0k/Jc-E8DFgxaQ/s320/IMG_6477.JPG" border="0" /&gt; &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;This view of the DeMatha High School Stags kneeling in prayer &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;before their last game.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;(I happen to be a huge fan of #23)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;Love it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;That makes My Monday.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;What Makes Yours?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4768545621473427558-7397504253176861949?l=teachermuse.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://teachermuse.blogspot.com/2009/11/point-of-view-makes-my-monday.html</link><author>catholicteachermusings@yahoo.com (Laura)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_UVt1kubWe4A/Su7JCHE0QSI/AAAAAAAAD00/hSUPfStmnNg/s72-c/000makes.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">6</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4768545621473427558.post-316453861065534471</guid><pubDate>Thu, 29 Oct 2009 22:19:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-10-29T18:19:00.823-04:00</atom:updated><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">Bad Poetry</category><title>Caution: Fruit at the Bottom- Bad Haiku</title><description>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UVt1kubWe4A/SultNAMMpbI/AAAAAAAAD0E/9cIUrgP71rw/s1600-h/0ctm.bmp"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5397965698537137586" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 280px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 191px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UVt1kubWe4A/SultNAMMpbI/AAAAAAAAD0E/9cIUrgP71rw/s320/0ctm.bmp" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_UVt1kubWe4A/SulstuMctUI/AAAAAAAADz0/aUcybK29w8I/s1600-h/0ldbanana.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5397965161130407234" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 92px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_UVt1kubWe4A/SulstuMctUI/AAAAAAAADz0/aUcybK29w8I/s200/0ldbanana.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666600;"&gt;Once in a great while&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666600;"&gt;I clean out my school book bag&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666600;"&gt;And find some old fruit. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;img class="centered" alt="post signature" src="http://i268.photobucket.com/albums/jj12/dcrdesign/siggy-15.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4768545621473427558-316453861065534471?l=teachermuse.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://teachermuse.blogspot.com/2009/10/caution-fruit-at-bottom-bad-haiku.html</link><author>catholicteachermusings@yahoo.com (Laura)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UVt1kubWe4A/SultNAMMpbI/AAAAAAAAD0E/9cIUrgP71rw/s72-c/0ctm.bmp" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">11</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4768545621473427558.post-5073273813021123357</guid><pubDate>Thu, 29 Oct 2009 10:39:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-10-29T06:45:01.141-04:00</atom:updated><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">Teacher Stuff</category><title>Simple Teacher Gift Idea</title><description>&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5397970388276811746" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 199px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UVt1kubWe4A/Sulxd-1RF-I/AAAAAAAAD0U/_IYSOngRLCw/s200/0onapkins20694.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_UVt1kubWe4A/SulxWEDd8fI/AAAAAAAAD0M/lmiSDGeGJQg/s1600-h/0knives78346.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5397970252239598066" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 124px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_UVt1kubWe4A/SulxWEDd8fI/AAAAAAAAD0M/lmiSDGeGJQg/s200/0knives78346.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Last year for Christmas one of my students gave me one charming  little Christmas cheese knife tied with a ribbon to a package of festive Christmas cocktail napkins.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Simple.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Useful.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;(Inexpensive)&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Thoughtful.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Cute&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;img class="centered" alt="post signature" src="http://i268.photobucket.com/albums/jj12/dcrdesign/siggy-15.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4768545621473427558-5073273813021123357?l=teachermuse.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://teachermuse.blogspot.com/2009/10/simple-teacher-gift-idea.html</link><author>catholicteachermusings@yahoo.com (Laura)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UVt1kubWe4A/Sulxd-1RF-I/AAAAAAAAD0U/_IYSOngRLCw/s72-c/0onapkins20694.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">7</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4768545621473427558.post-508485005919136105</guid><pubDate>Tue, 27 Oct 2009 10:26:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-10-27T06:43:44.025-04:00</atom:updated><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">Teacher Stuff</category><title>What I Almost Did.....</title><description>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_UVt1kubWe4A/SubOl382PuI/AAAAAAAADzU/StUkp-nkjFA/s1600-h/000apple.bmp"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5397228353519763170" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_UVt1kubWe4A/SubOl382PuI/AAAAAAAADzU/StUkp-nkjFA/s200/000apple.bmp" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_UVt1kubWe4A/SubOidXkhfI/AAAAAAAADzM/IY6PfRjPdR4/s1600-h/0frogettelaptop0004.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5397228294844483058" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 154px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_UVt1kubWe4A/SubOidXkhfI/AAAAAAAADzM/IY6PfRjPdR4/s200/0frogettelaptop0004.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I'm having a little teacher/parent &lt;em&gt;challenge.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;The &lt;em&gt;challenge&lt;/em&gt; is about a low grade I gave to a student's project that was incomplete and showed minimal effort. The parents are not happy with the grade.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Eventually, in these situations the struggle becomes whether or not to allow the student to re-submit the project or to let the grade stand.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Other teachers involved with this particular student have chimed in with their professional opinions which, in summary, encourage me to allow the grade to stand.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So, what did I almost do?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I responded to one of my co-workers emails about the situation. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I spoke of &lt;em&gt;stubborn behavior&lt;/em&gt; and &lt;em&gt;battles that aren't worth the effort&lt;/em&gt;. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I also spoke of &lt;em&gt;better ways to use my time&lt;/em&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;As I proofread the email, I found a typo and quickly corrected it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Then, just as I was about to hit "send," I noticed that the email address to which I was going to send the note was actually the email address of the parents.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Yes, the parents almost received my mini-rant email.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Thankfully, they did not receive it and this proves two things.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I must always-ALWAYS double check my email details before I press send and....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;Jesus loves me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img class="centered" alt="post signature" src="http://i268.photobucket.com/albums/jj12/dcrdesign/siggy-15.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4768545621473427558-508485005919136105?l=teachermuse.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://teachermuse.blogspot.com/2009/10/what-i-almost-did.html</link><author>catholicteachermusings@yahoo.com (Laura)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_UVt1kubWe4A/SubOl382PuI/AAAAAAAADzU/StUkp-nkjFA/s72-c/000apple.bmp" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">19</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4768545621473427558.post-4679256608183746472</guid><pubDate>Mon, 26 Oct 2009 10:28:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-10-26T06:41:26.304-04:00</atom:updated><title>All Pooped Out and Happy About It: Makes My Monday</title><description>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UVt1kubWe4A/SuV8i9OZB7I/AAAAAAAADyw/Td6OM_3xACM/s1600-h/0Exhausted.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5396856668465727410" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 197px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UVt1kubWe4A/SuV8i9OZB7I/AAAAAAAADyw/Td6OM_3xACM/s200/0Exhausted.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;Exhaustion.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;Exhaustion that comes from a gleeful weekend with &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;wonderful college friends.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;Exhaustion that comes from nights spent belly laughing &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;instead of sleeping.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;Exhaustion that comes from endless conversations about&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;dining halls, dorm life, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;and other delightful memories.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;Pure, well-worth-it exhaustion.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;Makes My Monday.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5396855209315088354" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 182px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_UVt1kubWe4A/SuV7OBdxN-I/AAAAAAAADyo/p44c5cPgLaE/s320/IMG_6408.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Visit &lt;a href="http://www.twinfatuation.blogspot.com/"&gt;Cheryl&lt;/a&gt; for more.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img class="centered" alt="post signature" src="http://i268.photobucket.com/albums/jj12/dcrdesign/siggy-15.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4768545621473427558-4679256608183746472?l=teachermuse.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://teachermuse.blogspot.com/2009/10/all-pooped-out-and-happy-about-it-makes.html</link><author>catholicteachermusings@yahoo.com (Laura)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UVt1kubWe4A/SuV8i9OZB7I/AAAAAAAADyw/Td6OM_3xACM/s72-c/0Exhausted.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">8</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4768545621473427558.post-5956356788434407529</guid><pubDate>Fri, 23 Oct 2009 02:27:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-10-26T06:13:34.597-04:00</atom:updated><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">Bad Poetry</category><title>Bad Haiku: A Prehistoric Plus</title><description>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_UVt1kubWe4A/St0hXAo_H3I/AAAAAAAADyA/pgqtR1kTHuY/s1600-h/0ctm.bmp"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5394504607852339058" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 280px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 191px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_UVt1kubWe4A/St0hXAo_H3I/AAAAAAAADyA/pgqtR1kTHuY/s320/0ctm.bmp" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_UVt1kubWe4A/St0hGqLBL9I/AAAAAAAADx4/LOPJ6b34blo/s1600-h/000caveRVIN0353.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5394504326943158226" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 206px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_UVt1kubWe4A/St0hGqLBL9I/AAAAAAAADx4/LOPJ6b34blo/s320/000caveRVIN0353.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Title: Going to My Reunion&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;What am I to wear?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;(Geez....They didn't have this problem&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;Back in caveman days.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;img class="centered" alt="post signature" src="http://i268.photobucket.com/albums/jj12/dcrdesign/siggy-15.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4768545621473427558-5956356788434407529?l=teachermuse.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://teachermuse.blogspot.com/2009/10/bad-haiku-prehistoric-plus.html</link><author>catholicteachermusings@yahoo.com (Laura)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_UVt1kubWe4A/St0hXAo_H3I/AAAAAAAADyA/pgqtR1kTHuY/s72-c/0ctm.bmp" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">8</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4768545621473427558.post-721526855819388085</guid><pubDate>Wed, 21 Oct 2009 10:31:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-10-22T17:36:06.540-04:00</atom:updated><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">A-Musings</category><title>A Chain Reaction</title><description>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_UVt1kubWe4A/SuDQOJNKewI/AAAAAAAADyg/yRfi0QTVygg/s1600-h/0riin.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5395541294997732098" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_UVt1kubWe4A/SuDQOJNKewI/AAAAAAAADyg/yRfi0QTVygg/s320/0riin.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_UVt1kubWe4A/St7jHTgQhTI/AAAAAAAADyI/7lA_ll_OZNk/s1600-h/000apple.bmp"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5394999118270596402" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_UVt1kubWe4A/St7jHTgQhTI/AAAAAAAADyI/7lA_ll_OZNk/s200/000apple.bmp" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5394999764794879746" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 134px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_UVt1kubWe4A/St7js7_qLwI/AAAAAAAADyQ/CoGadCO-vYM/s200/0paper.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wanted them to decorate the classroom with Halloween pictures.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I had intended to go the the dollar store and pick up some pumpkins, bats, and webs for the room to make the walls look fun and festive.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;However, I didn't make the trip.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;As a result, we used our homeroom time to make our own orange and black cut-outs of merry, oogie, and scary things to put on the wall.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;When we had 15 minutes remaining and the students had run out of homemade decoration ideas, I suggested they make a paper chain for us to drape around the room.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Let me just say....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I think I've created a construction-paper beast.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;The thing is taking over my classroom.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;The paper chain has put them under a spell.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;The beastly creation is never-ending, and whenever they have a chance to do so, they grab more strips of construction paper and add to its length.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;In the morning.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;In the afternoon.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;During study period.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"Let's put it up now," I say.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"We aren't done," they say.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;And so it grows....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;And, if by chance you can't find me oneday, it may be because I am trapped underneath an orange and black construction paper mountain.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Please dig me out.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;*&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Life Lesson: When reaching for an idea to fill some time with young people, &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;be very, very careful what you suggest.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img class="centered" alt="post signature" src="http://i268.photobucket.com/albums/jj12/dcrdesign/siggy-15.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4768545621473427558-721526855819388085?l=teachermuse.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://teachermuse.blogspot.com/2009/10/chain-reaction.html</link><author>catholicteachermusings@yahoo.com (Laura)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_UVt1kubWe4A/SuDQOJNKewI/AAAAAAAADyg/yRfi0QTVygg/s72-c/0riin.JPG" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">12</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4768545621473427558.post-8901826600320611472</guid><pubDate>Mon, 19 Oct 2009 23:43:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-10-19T19:44:23.024-04:00</atom:updated><title>Where the Wild Things Are: Okay, I Guess.</title><description>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_UVt1kubWe4A/StxFu44J6hI/AAAAAAAADxw/puCmcPhDqi4/s1600-h/0just+sayin.png"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5394263125527226898" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 205px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 95px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_UVt1kubWe4A/StxFu44J6hI/AAAAAAAADxw/puCmcPhDqi4/s320/0just+sayin.png" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_UVt1kubWe4A/StxFLgro61I/AAAAAAAADxo/kREo2V2-LKE/s1600-h/000wild6a00d8341c630a53ef00e553b19ce88834-800wi.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5394262517736860498" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 142px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_UVt1kubWe4A/StxFLgro61I/AAAAAAAADxo/kREo2V2-LKE/s320/000wild6a00d8341c630a53ef00e553b19ce88834-800wi.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It's not that I hated the movie.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I just didn't like it very much.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;In my mind Max is supposed to be a very small boy whose so called "terrible" behavior springs from a need to run, to jump, to play, and to imagine. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;In the movie, the boy is about 9 and his behavior seems to be a reaction to his sister's casual dismissal of him and his mother's decision to date. The 9 year old actually bites his mother in one scene.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Seeing an older child bite his mother is unsettling to say the least.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;As an observer, you are just hoping someone quickly takes the animal suit off him and scoots him away to therapy ASAP.&lt;br /&gt;The screenwriters who adapted the book decided, I suppose, that the story needed more depth.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Why?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It's a story for 4 year olds.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;However, I would not take my 4 year old nephew to see this film.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Though the wild things' costumes are brilliantly similar to the book, many of the wild things themselves seem a bit mentally disturbed, paranoid, or depressed.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The movie ends with some similarities to the book for the most part- but the fim is missing the overall charm that puncuates the final page of the book.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;In the book, Max acts wild, goes to the where the other wild things play, and returns home tired and hungry- happy to have his hot soup waiting for him. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Innocent, cute young stuff.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I guess the film makers need to "keep it real" now?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Eh.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Innocent and cute is better. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I'm just sayin.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img class="centered" alt="post signature" src="http://i268.photobucket.com/albums/jj12/dcrdesign/siggy-15.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4768545621473427558-8901826600320611472?l=teachermuse.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://teachermuse.blogspot.com/2009/10/where-wild-things-are-okay-i-guess.html</link><author>catholicteachermusings@yahoo.com (Laura)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_UVt1kubWe4A/StxFu44J6hI/AAAAAAAADxw/puCmcPhDqi4/s72-c/0just+sayin.png" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">14</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4768545621473427558.post-5637665049259609265</guid><pubDate>Sun, 18 Oct 2009 23:51:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-10-19T06:24:22.074-04:00</atom:updated><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">Makes My Monday</category><title>Makes My Monday This and That</title><description>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.twinfatuation.blogspot.com/"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5394092639712061858" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 185px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 169px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_UVt1kubWe4A/StuqrTuWKaI/AAAAAAAADxQ/A7M__SFjjiI/s200/000makes.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I'm a busy girl this week but life is good, and my Monday is being made because.....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5394095590787291922" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 136px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_UVt1kubWe4A/StutXFVgmxI/AAAAAAAADxY/bNO2urHqT5E/s200/0segway.jpg" border="0" /&gt; &lt;p align="center"&gt;Today I reserved a Segway tour for Matt-the-hot-husband and me when we take our trip to Madrid in the spring. Habla espanol?&lt;br /&gt;*&lt;/p&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_UVt1kubWe4A/StuqkbTQopI/AAAAAAAADxI/MNa7P4y_eN0/s1600-h/0CUA-entrance-sign.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5394092521486852754" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 133px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_UVt1kubWe4A/StuqkbTQopI/AAAAAAAADxI/MNa7P4y_eN0/s200/0CUA-entrance-sign.jpg" border="0" /&gt; &lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Friday I will be spending an evening out with my college friends for our 25 year reunion.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;We have not been together as a group in 20 or so years. Memories will be made and I am quite sure I will laugh until my head hurts.&lt;br /&gt;*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_UVt1kubWe4A/StuqdzCtWhI/AAAAAAAADxA/ZyzR4zxmn94/s1600-h/0book.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5394092407600798226" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 134px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_UVt1kubWe4A/StuqdzCtWhI/AAAAAAAADxA/ZyzR4zxmn94/s200/0book.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; My book club (We call it our book coven.) is reading this book &lt;em&gt;The Help&lt;/em&gt;. I thought I was going to loathe it, and I was already thinking of excuses I could make up for why I wouldn't be able to finish the 450 pages. However, I LOVE the plot....charming, interesting, and thought-provoking.&lt;br /&gt;*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_UVt1kubWe4A/StuqabcEzoI/AAAAAAAADw4/imFnyoDRqqQ/s1600-h/0cookies.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5394092349725134466" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 183px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_UVt1kubWe4A/StuqabcEzoI/AAAAAAAADw4/imFnyoDRqqQ/s200/0cookies.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; My BFF's and I are in the middle of scheduling our annual Christmas cookie exchange and I am extremely psyched about the holiday plates on which my cookies will be distributed.&lt;br /&gt;As usual, I am more excited about the packaging than the cookies.&lt;br /&gt;I love preparing for Christmas.&lt;br /&gt;*&lt;br /&gt;and finally....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UVt1kubWe4A/StuqNpG4E5I/AAAAAAAADwo/pa-ejlAnCtI/s1600-h/0dogpong.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5394092130056016786" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 140px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 140px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UVt1kubWe4A/StuqNpG4E5I/AAAAAAAADwo/pa-ejlAnCtI/s320/0dogpong.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; I am still grinning from the meeting I had with Kim from the blog &lt;a href="http://itsadogandponyshow.blogspot.com/2009/10/flu-central.html"&gt;It's a Dog and Pony Show&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;She (along with her friend, Martha) and I met at an Irish pub in Arlington, Virginia where we chatted, chortled, and sipped adult beverages for a couple of hours.&lt;br /&gt;Quite delightful to meet a blog friend in the flesh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bunch of little good things....Makes My Monday.&lt;br /&gt;Hope yours is a good one too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img class="centered" alt="post signature" src="http://i268.photobucket.com/albums/jj12/dcrdesign/siggy-15.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Visit &lt;a href="http://www.twinfatuation.blogspot.com/"&gt;Cheryl&lt;/a&gt; for more.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4768545621473427558-5637665049259609265?l=teachermuse.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://teachermuse.blogspot.com/2009/10/makes-my-monday-this-and-that.html</link><author>catholicteachermusings@yahoo.com (Laura)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_UVt1kubWe4A/StuqrTuWKaI/AAAAAAAADxQ/A7M__SFjjiI/s72-c/000makes.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">10</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4768545621473427558.post-8550845665149210825</guid><pubDate>Sun, 18 Oct 2009 10:34:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-10-18T07:44:35.672-04:00</atom:updated><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">A-Musings</category><title>Swine Flu or Stomach Flu 2009 Secret- For the Desperate and Twisted</title><description>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UVt1kubWe4A/Str-8QwS0bI/AAAAAAAADwg/RzggA2d4Wgk/s1600-h/CTM+vintage.png"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5393903814972723634" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 257px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 122px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UVt1kubWe4A/Str-8QwS0bI/AAAAAAAADwg/RzggA2d4Wgk/s320/CTM+vintage.png" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UVt1kubWe4A/SWU_97wRUxI/AAAAAAAACiM/Oi-qp-QNI54/s1600-h/aShiftydog_l.gif"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5288703670661239570" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 193px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UVt1kubWe4A/SWU_97wRUxI/AAAAAAAACiM/Oi-qp-QNI54/s200/aShiftydog_l.gif" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; What worked this past winter with "stomach flu" will work with "swine flu."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Want more blog hits?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Write "stomach flu" (now swine flu) in your post title.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;People will come.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Not sure how to fit it in?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;C'mon you can make it work with any of your topics....watch me.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Stomach Flu (Swine Flu) is What You Won't Get When You Try This Chili Recipe&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;Stomach Flu (Swine Flu) Rhymes With Blue- Blue is the Color of My New Car!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Stomach Flu (Swine Flu) Has an S and an F! And So Does Saint Francis- My Favorite Saint.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#663366;"&gt;Stomach Flu (Swine Flu) Would Be Better Than Having to Find a New Nanny&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#663366;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Sorry you're not feeling well, stomach flu (Swine Flu) people&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;, but I welcome you to my blog post which, unfortunately, won't help you whatsoever.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Try ginger ale and oyster crackers.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;May not take away what ails you, but it's a tasty combination.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;Get well soon.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img class="centered" alt="post signature" src="http://i268.photobucket.com/albums/jj12/dcrdesign/siggy-15.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4768545621473427558-8550845665149210825?l=teachermuse.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://teachermuse.blogspot.com/2009/01/stomach-flu-secret-for-desperate-and.html</link><author>catholicteachermusings@yahoo.com (Laura)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UVt1kubWe4A/Str-8QwS0bI/AAAAAAAADwg/RzggA2d4Wgk/s72-c/CTM+vintage.png" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">14</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4768545621473427558.post-7959223366930167349</guid><pubDate>Sat, 17 Oct 2009 04:11:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-10-17T07:26:45.501-04:00</atom:updated><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">family</category><title>A Story to Give Pause to the New Drivers in Our Lives</title><description>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_UVt1kubWe4A/StcFKmjuAvI/AAAAAAAADwI/8pt1ynQJeHk/s1600-h/0road.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5392784758506652402" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 142px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_UVt1kubWe4A/StcFKmjuAvI/AAAAAAAADwI/8pt1ynQJeHk/s200/0road.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; I remember sitting in my high school speech class and hearing &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;a young man read from this selection for our assignment.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I've never forgotten it. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;Please God, I'm Only 17 - &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;(the Dear Abby heartbreaker....written by John Berrio)&lt;br /&gt;The day I died was an ordinary school day. How I wish I had taken the bus. But I was too cool for the bus. I remember how I wheedled the car out of Mom.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;"Special favor," I pleaded. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;"All the kids drive."&lt;br /&gt;When the 2:50 bell rang, I threw all my books in the locker. I was free until 8:40 tomorrow morning! I ran to the parking lot, excited at the thought of driving a car and being my own boss. Free!&lt;br /&gt;It doesn't matter how the accident happened. I was goofing off -- going too fast -- taking crazy chances. But I was enjoying my freedom and having fun. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;The last thing I remember was passing an old lady who seemed to be going awfully slow. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I heard the deafening crash and felt a terrible jolt. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Glass and steel flew everywhere. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;My whole body seemed to be turning inside out. I heard myself scream.&lt;br /&gt;Suddenly I awakened; it was very quiet. A police officer was standing over me. Then I saw a doctor. My body was mangled. I was saturated with blood. Pieces of jagged glass were sticking out all over. Strange that I couldn't feel anything.&lt;br /&gt;Hey, don't pull that sheet over my head! I can't be dead. I'm only 17. I've got a date tonight. I'm supposed to grow up and have a wonderful life. I haven't lived yet. I can't be dead!&lt;br /&gt;Later I was placed in a drawer. My folks had to identify me. Why did they have to see me like this? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Why did I have to look at Mom's eyes when she faced the most terrible ordeal of her life?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Dad suddenly looked like an old man. He told the man in charge, "Yes, he is my son."&lt;br /&gt;The funeral was a weird experience.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I saw all my relatives and friends walk toward the casket. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;They passed by, one by one, and looked at me with the saddest eyes I've ever seen. Some of my buddies were crying. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;A few of the girls touched my hand and sobbed as they walked away.&lt;br /&gt;Please -- somebody -- wake me up! Get me out of here! I can't bear to see my mom and dad so broken up. My grandparents are so racked with grief they can hardly walk. My brothers and sisters are like zombies. They move like robots. In a daze, everybody. No one can believe this. And I can't believe it, either.&lt;br /&gt;Please don't bury me! I'm not dead! I have a lot of living to do! I want to laugh and run again. I want to sing and dance. Please don't put me in the ground. I promise if you give me one more chance, God, I'll be the most careful driver in the whole world. All I want is one more chance!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;Please, God, I'm only 17!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;img class="centered" alt="post signature" src="http://i268.photobucket.com/albums/jj12/dcrdesign/siggy-15.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4768545621473427558-7959223366930167349?l=teachermuse.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://teachermuse.blogspot.com/2009/10/story-to-give-pause-for-new-driver.html</link><author>catholicteachermusings@yahoo.com (Laura)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_UVt1kubWe4A/StcFKmjuAvI/AAAAAAAADwI/8pt1ynQJeHk/s72-c/0road.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">5</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4768545621473427558.post-6475864219189172534</guid><pubDate>Thu, 15 Oct 2009 23:45:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-10-15T16:52:12.991-04:00</atom:updated><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">Bad Poetry</category><title>Bad Haiku: Cold Weather Cravings</title><description>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_UVt1kubWe4A/SteLPW1nhRI/AAAAAAAADwY/dpeWiEbIfF8/s1600-h/0ctm.bmp"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5392932174744225042" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 280px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 191px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_UVt1kubWe4A/SteLPW1nhRI/AAAAAAAADwY/dpeWiEbIfF8/s320/0ctm.bmp" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UVt1kubWe4A/SteLGImajuI/AAAAAAAADwQ/ZZNuHdEduSk/s1600-h/00baking_foods_192697.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5392932016303541986" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 162px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UVt1kubWe4A/SteLGImajuI/AAAAAAAADwQ/ZZNuHdEduSk/s200/00baking_foods_192697.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;This new cold weather...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;Makes me want fires, boots, quilts, and &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;CARBS CARBS CARBS CARBS CARBS&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;img class="centered" alt="post signature" src="http://i268.photobucket.com/albums/jj12/dcrdesign/siggy-15.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4768545621473427558-6475864219189172534?l=teachermuse.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://teachermuse.blogspot.com/2009/10/bad-haiku-cold-weather-cravings.html</link><author>catholicteachermusings@yahoo.com (Laura)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_UVt1kubWe4A/SteLPW1nhRI/AAAAAAAADwY/dpeWiEbIfF8/s72-c/0ctm.bmp" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">10</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4768545621473427558.post-6279551941057139770</guid><pubDate>Wed, 14 Oct 2009 10:37:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-10-15T04:26:39.214-04:00</atom:updated><title>A Brief Commentary on Silly Covetous Behavior</title><description>In one chapter of &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Ramona the Pest&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; by Beverly Cleary, Ramona becomes fixated on the bouncy curls of a classmate. She stares at them everyday in class until one day her self-control weakens and she reaches out to pull a curl to see what will happen. Of course, she finds herself in trouble with the teacher.&lt;br /&gt;She really wanted those curls for herself.&lt;br /&gt;I know the feeling.&lt;br /&gt;*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_UVt1kubWe4A/StY1rn7vBnI/AAAAAAAADwA/VJVyNIx_cMU/s1600-h/0frito.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5392556627392923250" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 190px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_UVt1kubWe4A/StY1rn7vBnI/AAAAAAAADwA/VJVyNIx_cMU/s200/0frito.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I was little I would occasionally become preoccupied with some item a classmate had and then I would daydream about it. Jenny Schlossman, for example, had an individually packaged bag of Frito's as a snack each day in 4th grade. I would watch her take out each Frito one at a time and put it into her mouth, savoring the salty corn goodness of each bite. I felt tortured by her snack. When I would go grocery shopping with my mother, I would try to use mental telepathy to make her want to buy the individual Frito bags so I could have a snack like Jenny Schlossman. I did not succeed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A little later in my childhood, there was a girl at the YMCA (I think her name was Dreamo) who was a champion swimmer and she wore a diamond-pattern Speedo swimsuit. I really wanted that Speedo suit. However, those suits were far too expensive. Instead, I had a Sears &amp;amp; Roebuck swimsuit with red and blue diamond shapes on it, so I wore that suit until it was nearly threadbare. I guess I thought I could be a champion swimmer like Dreamo if I had the right swimming apparel. Eventually, I did receive a Speedo for a birthday present- but I didn't quite reach the champion swimmer status I had been envisioning. Not by a long shot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In high school at 16 I was a cashier at a fancy country club. One of the waiters, R&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_UVt1kubWe4A/StWwt8_AfcI/AAAAAAAADvw/YKQppOhJ-bo/s1600-h/07.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5392410432357039554" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 85px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_UVt1kubWe4A/StWwt8_AfcI/AAAAAAAADvw/YKQppOhJ-bo/s200/07.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;andy, was 19 and very cute. He wore expensive Stan Smith Adidas on his feet. Guess what sneakers I bought with my paycheck? And, I also liked the way he made his sevens; he would put a slash through the stems like the Europeans did. To this day, I make my sevens with the "Randy" slash. My students always appreciate the schoolgirl crush back story of why I began to do it in the first place. And, sometimes they begin to make a "Randy" slash too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;About 12 years ago, I had a pretty student named Jane who was &lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_UVt1kubWe4A/StYyKHXsXtI/AAAAAAAADv4/YuqWvjlPfi8/s1600-h/0pop.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5392552753181253330" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 142px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_UVt1kubWe4A/StYyKHXsXtI/AAAAAAAADv4/YuqWvjlPfi8/s200/0pop.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;quite popular and a very talented artist. Even though she was new to the school, other girls flocked to her and wanted to be her friend.&lt;br /&gt;Jane ate Pop-tarts for lunch. She didn't eat a single Pop-tart; she would bring the foil packaged duo into school and eat both in one sitting. As you can probably guess, Pop-tarts began sprouting forth from all the 6th grade girls' lunches. Everyone wanted to have Pop-tarts in their lunch because Jane had them. And woe to the young lady with the "fake" Pop-tart; if you wanted to really be like Jane, you had to have the original, Kellogg's brand, foil wrapped treats. The neighborhood Safeway probably couldn't keep them stocked on the shelves.&lt;br /&gt;**&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;I wonder what the students in my classes are wishing for right now? &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;What's funny is that we, as adults, might think that they would yearn for obvious items like an IPOD, a cell-phone, or an expensive pair of Uggs. Yes, those things might be on the wish list, but I'm willing to bet that there are some adolescent minds coveting items on a more simple level....a headband, a Lunchables meal, or a sports water bottle. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;These smaller items seem so innocent next to the big money ones; they almost appear cute in their simplicity. Makes me want to go buy them for the little buggers.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Uggs? IPODS?  Not so much.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img class="centered" alt="post signature" src="http://i268.photobucket.com/albums/jj12/dcrdesign/siggy-15.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4768545621473427558-6279551941057139770?l=teachermuse.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://teachermuse.blogspot.com/2009/10/brief-commentary-of-silly-covetous.html</link><author>catholicteachermusings@yahoo.com (Laura)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_UVt1kubWe4A/StY1rn7vBnI/AAAAAAAADwA/VJVyNIx_cMU/s72-c/0frito.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">5</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4768545621473427558.post-5093918646453672915</guid><pubDate>Sat, 10 Oct 2009 14:25:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-10-10T10:27:38.022-04:00</atom:updated><title>Saturday Thought</title><description>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;If you would attain to what &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;you are not yet, &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;you must always be displeased &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;by what you are.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;For where you are pleased with yourself &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;there you have remained. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Keep adding, &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;keep walking, &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;keep advancing. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;~Saint Augustine&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;img class="centered" alt="post signature" src="http://i268.photobucket.com/albums/jj12/dcrdesign/siggy-15.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4768545621473427558-5093918646453672915?l=teachermuse.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://teachermuse.blogspot.com/2009/10/saturday-thought.html</link><author>catholicteachermusings@yahoo.com (Laura)</author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">6</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4768545621473427558.post-4960654234021583518</guid><pubDate>Fri, 09 Oct 2009 02:09:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-10-09T06:09:49.961-04:00</atom:updated><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">Bad Poetry</category><title>Tomorrow is Another Day....Bad Haiku Friday</title><description>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_UVt1kubWe4A/Ss6eZR1YNyI/AAAAAAAADvo/NYOBZZrea60/s1600-h/0ctm.bmp"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5390419961130268450" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 280px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 191px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_UVt1kubWe4A/Ss6eZR1YNyI/AAAAAAAADvo/NYOBZZrea60/s320/0ctm.bmp" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt; I tell my students-&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Don't put things off ...Get work done.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Stay on top of it!!!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_UVt1kubWe4A/Ss6eNiro2kI/AAAAAAAADvg/PNQ8EcdwKyo/s1600-h/0papers.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5390419759494388290" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_UVt1kubWe4A/Ss6eNiro2kI/AAAAAAAADvg/PNQ8EcdwKyo/s320/0papers.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;But, I must add that&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;There's no age limit for....&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Procrastination&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;img class="centered" alt="post signature" src="http://i268.photobucket.com/albums/jj12/dcrdesign/siggy-15.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;I'm no longer going to post a Bad Haiku Friday linky here; however, please leave a comment if you have written some bad poetry.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;We would love to visit your blog and read it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4768545621473427558-4960654234021583518?l=teachermuse.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://teachermuse.blogspot.com/2009/10/tomorrow-is-another-daybad-haiku-friday.html</link><author>catholicteachermusings@yahoo.com (Laura)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_UVt1kubWe4A/Ss6eZR1YNyI/AAAAAAAADvo/NYOBZZrea60/s72-c/0ctm.bmp" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">12</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4768545621473427558.post-6973194479575432972</guid><pubDate>Tue, 06 Oct 2009 10:26:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-10-06T06:38:46.583-04:00</atom:updated><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">A-Musings</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">Teacher Stuff</category><title>Tarzan Teacher</title><description>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UVt1kubWe4A/SssdmdbhQ-I/AAAAAAAADvQ/c-ehvpqmyMk/s1600-h/0Rope_swing.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5389433925651219426" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 261px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UVt1kubWe4A/SssdmdbhQ-I/AAAAAAAADvQ/c-ehvpqmyMk/s320/0Rope_swing.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Yesterday was outdoor ed., a fun day away from the regular school routine.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Part of outdoor education (a day of physical challenges and teamwork in the woods) is encouraging the kids to explore beyond their comfort zones. So, even if they don't want to climb up an entire tree and jump to the bottom, we will encourage them to climb half way up instead.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Each child is allowed to set his/her own goals.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Yesterday was full of many success stories regarding students facing their fears and showing courage. I was quite proud of their accomplishments.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Eventually, my group came to a small activity where the final component was to swing on a rope from one side of an area to another. &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;The activity director insisted that it was so easy even their teacher could do it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Huh?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Me?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;No thanks.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;However, after a morning full of my words .....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"C'mon, just try."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"You can do it."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I really couldn't say no -now could I.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So, I did straddle the rope and swing across the dirt for the entertainment of my students.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;You would have thought I did tripled back flips off a cliff with the way they applauded.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And they kept talking about it as the time went on....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I guess I really had their attention.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I guess I need to put one of those ropes in my classroom.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Whatever works- right?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img class="centered" alt="post signature" src="http://i268.photobucket.com/albums/jj12/dcrdesign/siggy-15.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4768545621473427558-6973194479575432972?l=teachermuse.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://teachermuse.blogspot.com/2009/10/tarzan-teacher.html</link><author>catholicteachermusings@yahoo.com (Laura)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UVt1kubWe4A/SssdmdbhQ-I/AAAAAAAADvQ/c-ehvpqmyMk/s72-c/0Rope_swing.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">9</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4768545621473427558.post-835437935674281494</guid><pubDate>Mon, 05 Oct 2009 00:52:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-10-04T22:18:24.828-04:00</atom:updated><title>A Trip to the Dumpster: Makes My Monday</title><description>&lt;div align="center"&gt;The time had come for us to say goodbye to Matt's chair.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Some may have called it an &lt;em&gt;Al Bundy&lt;/em&gt; chair, but....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;we called it "The Healing Chair."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UVt1kubWe4A/SslFPd3rDEI/AAAAAAAADus/-EEjhxGOlMU/s1600-h/IMG_6284.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5388914561143999554" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UVt1kubWe4A/SslFPd3rDEI/AAAAAAAADus/-EEjhxGOlMU/s320/IMG_6284.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; A chair that plugged in and could vibrate as well as heat your tired body. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_UVt1kubWe4A/SslFHS6hyaI/AAAAAAAADuk/g4bDIgxzApk/s1600-h/IMG_6285.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5388914420764232098" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_UVt1kubWe4A/SslFHS6hyaI/AAAAAAAADuk/g4bDIgxzApk/s320/IMG_6285.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; It does not Make My Monday to see my husband carting away&lt;br /&gt;the beloved healing chair to the dumpster.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_UVt1kubWe4A/SslFBzFaizI/AAAAAAAADuc/eMikYn-iCaY/s1600-h/IMG_6286.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5388914326320614194" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_UVt1kubWe4A/SslFBzFaizI/AAAAAAAADuc/eMikYn-iCaY/s320/IMG_6286.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; It does not Make My Monday that he will miss&lt;br /&gt;this true companion who has been with him through all the&lt;br /&gt;television drama of ESPN....and NCIS....and yes,&lt;br /&gt;The Weather Channel.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_UVt1kubWe4A/SslE4zDXd5I/AAAAAAAADuU/tdE-LuHwAqI/s1600-h/IMG_6288.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5388914171693201298" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_UVt1kubWe4A/SslE4zDXd5I/AAAAAAAADuU/tdE-LuHwAqI/s320/IMG_6288.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; And seeing him say a last goodbye at the dumpster.....does not&lt;br /&gt;a Monday Make either....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_UVt1kubWe4A/SslEvCtxp9I/AAAAAAAADuM/dWLZh_wCt_k/s1600-h/0IMG_6291.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5388914004098918354" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_UVt1kubWe4A/SslEvCtxp9I/AAAAAAAADuM/dWLZh_wCt_k/s320/0IMG_6291.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; No...it wasn't the farewell to the healing chair that Makes My Monday...&lt;br /&gt;**&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_UVt1kubWe4A/SslDdz8HLrI/AAAAAAAADuE/TosbD2Fd9C8/s1600-h/0la.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5388912608563113650" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_UVt1kubWe4A/SslDdz8HLrI/AAAAAAAADuE/TosbD2Fd9C8/s320/0la.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; It's the grocery cart ride I got on the way back!!!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Now THAT Makes My Monday.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;What makes yours?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img class="centered" alt="post signature" src="http://i268.photobucket.com/albums/jj12/dcrdesign/siggy-15.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Visit Cheryl for more &lt;a href="http://www.twinfatuation.blogspot.com/"&gt;Makes My Monday.&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4768545621473427558-835437935674281494?l=teachermuse.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://teachermuse.blogspot.com/2009/10/trip-to-dumpster-makes-my-monday.html</link><author>catholicteachermusings@yahoo.com (Laura)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UVt1kubWe4A/SslFPd3rDEI/AAAAAAAADus/-EEjhxGOlMU/s72-c/IMG_6284.JPG" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">19</thr:total></item></channel></rss>
