Perchance Some Poetry Before A Fortnight

No, the stranger and I didn't touch one another, in case you were wondering.

I take Lazarus to the dog park next to our duplex pretty often--I'd say at least 3 times a week when it's warm, and maybe 2 times a week in the winter. After it snows, we're there every day--it's his favorite time to be at the dog park, and no one is ever there so it's like this giant playground all to ourselves. He does pretty good at the dog park, and doesn't get too snippy (unless it's a boxer or a standard poodle; I don't understand the dislike of the boxers since those were his BFFs as a puppy, the poodles are asshats so I get that). He likes to run and catch a ball, frisbee, does tricks, etc., and it keeps him focused and tires him out faster.

Yesterday was a dog park day. We played for about 45 minutes until he got a little snippy with an overly friendly boxer. I had him follow me to the gate at the furthest end of the dog park, where I noticed that there was a woman and a great dane sitting in the grass under a large tree just outside of the fence of the dog park. I had seen her helping the dane walk over to the tree, and helping it lay down in the grass. She was gently petting the dane, rearranging the pretty orange scarf tied around its neck and talking quietly to it.

Lazarus--the welcoming party for all dogs and people--beelined over to them. I had just enough time to ask, "Is it friendly?" before Laz descended upon the dane lying in the grass, licking its face with his ears back and tail wagging profusely, like it was a long lost friend. The dane sniffed up at Lazarus, clearly three times the size of my dog, and allowed Laz to lick its face over and over again while mildly scrunching up its nose as if to say, "Blargh, but whatever. Nice to meet you too."

Laz then turned to the woman crouching behind her dog, greeting her in the same manner. She laughed and pet him, saying softly, "You're a nice dog, aren't you? You're a sweety." After making sure to lick me once, he lay down in the grass next to the dane, obviously spent from our playtime in the dog park.

Finally, it was our turn to speak, having gotten the dog greetings out of the way. I smiled and asked, "Why are you sitting outside of the dog park?"

She looked down at her dane and replied with a soft smile, "Well, we're doing a bucket list. This was one of them."

"What? A bucket list?? But she looks fine!" I stared increduously down at the great dane. She was a gorgeous light caramel color, a little darker than a tan. She had a young face that showed that she had many more years to go--no white grizzles on her muzzle--but I could tell she wasn't quite a puppy like my Lazarus still seemed to be. I knelt down and began to pet her, wondering what could possibly be wrong. Cancer was the only thing I could possibly think of--something from within because she was a beautiful healthy color on the outside.

It was at this point that the woman began to cry. She was still smiling, but tears were tumbling down her face faster than she could wipe them. I instantly felt contrite and horrible--I had been far too direct with a complete stranger. I apologized, saying, "Oh! I totally didn't mean to make you cry! Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry!"

She waved her hand at me and laughed, tears still pouring out of her eyes. One hand was always on her dog laying placidly in the grass, stroking gently. "Oh no, I've been crying buckets for the last few days now, probably at least four times a day. No, no, you didn't make me cry, I promise. It's her spine. She can't walk anymore."

I still felt bad. "How old is she?"

"She's three," the woman replied, looking lovingly down at her dog. Lazarus got up and began to lick the face of the great dane again, and the woman laughed. "He really is a sweet dog."

"So is yours," I immediately replied, and I meant it. I caressed her large tan head, talking to her about how sweet she was. The woman cried on, and I asked, "So there was nothing they could do for her?"

She shook her head. "Nope. Her spine can't be fixed. She can't move; can't walk. She would have a very poor quality of life, not being able to get up or move around. So we're living it up while we can, doing everything we wanted to do!"

I looked down at the sweet dog under my hand, looking into her eyes as she took in the dogs romping and playing in the dog park. She looked like she wanted to get in there and play desperately, but couldn't move to do so.

"So... you have to put her to sleep?"

This opened up a new floodgate of tears as she nodded her head, and I found myself choking back some as well. I gave her some time before I said, "Oh, poor, poor, sweet baby. And only three years old."

"The best three years of my life. She's the best dog I've ever had!" the woman stated fiercly, and I nodded, understanding her sentiment completely.

"Great danes are fantastic dogs. I grew up with them; my dad bred and trained them, and I was actually named after his favorite great dane," I responded.

She looked up at me, and the tears seemed to slow their descent. "Really? That's pretty funny! What is your name and what happened?"

"Well, my dad and mom had this blue great dane. They loved her very much, and her name was Shauna Lee Blue. She died too early from something--I don't know what--but they decided to name me after her. I'm Shauna Lynn instead of Shauna Lee, though."

The woman laughed and laughed, finding it much funnier than I thought it was, but I suppose it was laughing for the sake of laughing after crying so much for the past few days. I guess finding out someone was named after a beloved pet is probably somewhat comical too. My story seemed to cheer her up considerably.

"We came out here so she could relax in the grass and see the other dogs. I'm going to do some studying," she stated. Lazarus got up and moved towards her, licking her face again as she pet him. The great dane looked up at him and then back at the dog park, not seeming to care that Lazarus was bathing her owner with too many kisses. She spoke to him softly, loving the extra attention being lavished upon her from a dog unlike her own, and allowing him to kiss her on the face and neck, rubbing his muzzle into her face as if to comfort her.

We got up and began to walk towards her car, which she had parked right in the grass about 100 yards from where her dog currently sat under the tree. Her great dane looked at us in alarm, as if to say, "You're freaking leaving me here!?" Seeing her dog clearly wanting to come along, the woman laughed and joked, "Stay, stay! We're coming back! Not that you can get up anyhow, but stay!" This seemed to appease the great dane for a moment, and she went back to watching the dog park.

We said our goodbyes, and as I walked away from her and her dog, all I could think was that I would never see that great dane again.

It's amazing, though, the love we feel for our pets. If it weren't for Lazarus, I wouldn't know anyone in my current neighborhood. And if it weren't for Lazarus I would definitely be missing a vital part of life--loving something other than yourself, that loves you on your best and worst days, no matter what you look like and no matter how you treat it. Unconditional love is something hard to come by. I hope that woman is able to grieve and move on, knowing that her dog loved her unconditionally, and that it was a love that was definitely returned.

I'm on FreeCycle, this group that promotes giving away things instead of throwing them away (there's one for most cities). I had some moving boxes left over that were taking over the garage, so I posted them on FreeCycle. I got a bite.

FROM THE CREEPIEST GUY EVER.

I came over yesterday at 5:30ish, and rang my doorbell. It was my own fault, I forgot to leave the boxes out so he was forced to come to the door. He's about mid-forties, and quite literally rings true of a crazy child molester/rapist. From the moment I open the garage door, here's how our conversation goes:

Creeper Jeff: "So YOU'RE fantasyprincess?"

Me: ::embarrassed:: "Yeah, it's from the 7th grade and I needed a yahoo account to be in the group and I'm too lazy to make up a new one."

Creeper Jeff: "Whatever. You know it's like a fetish thing."

Me: GET THE FUCK OUT WHAT THE HELL DID YOU SAY!?!?!?!? I need this to end faaassstttt. "Well here are the boxes..."

Creeper Jeff: ::looks at them dubiously:: "All righty..."

Me: ::pause drags for a moment or two:: "I guess I could help you carry them to your car..."

Creeper Jeff: ::smiles widely and seems to brighten up:: "Sounds good! Thanks!"

As we carry the boxes to the car, he keeps up a conversation. It only gets weirder. He won't stop staring at my face and tries to touch my hands as he helps me with putting the boxes in the car. Too much eye contact.

Creeper Jeff: "So where do you work?"

Me: "I'm a teacher out in DeSoto."

Creeper Jeff: "OH? What grade do you teach?"

Me: "Seventh grade." OMG STOP TELLING HIM SHIT YOU DUMBASS!!!

Creeper Jeff: "Oh wow, I bet you're not that much older than them."

Me: "Yeah, well, I wanted to work with kids who were at least 10 years younger than me. I got tired of the high schoolers asking me to prom." ::laughs nervously::

Creeper Jeff: "I probably would have asked you too."

BARF BLEGH GET ME THE SHIT OUT OF HERE GO HOME YOU WEIRDO!!!

Creeper Jeff: "Well, these boxes will sure come in handy. We're moving down to San Antonio, if you know anyone that way."

Right, like I'm going to let him be friends with anyone I fucking know.

Me: "I've been there before! My sister did basic there for the Air Force."

Creeper Jeff: "I'm retired Air Force! What a small world!"

Actually, not a small world. There are a shit ton of people in the armed forces, you dipshit.

I end the conversation with a smile and a wave goodbye and told him I had to put my dog out. Truth be told, I was terrified the entire time that he was going to cut me up into little pieces and put me in each little box individually, like a keepsake of some sort. I was getting the craziest vibe off this man (probably from the overuse of eye contact and very sketchy body language), and strangely I think that Lazarus scared the shit out of him. I kept the front door open purposely for Laz to stare at us the entire time. He's not the friendliest looking dog.

I got an email from him today.

Shauna,

Thanks again for the boxes. They will help
a lot. We probably won't move until June but now we can start sorting and
packing early. It was a pleasure meeting you. I'm just glad I didn't have any
teachers as pretty and friendly as you because I wouldn't have paid attention
to my studies! J

Take care,

Jeff


I might never use FreeCycle again.

THE TEXT THING ABOUT GANGS AT WALMART IS A HOAX. I got two texts today about it!

I might be super gullible, but sometimes a girl has got to check things out before getting all caught up in the drama. So PLEASE do your homework people before getting swept away by someone's stupid idea of a joke. This is a resurgence of a chain-mail email from back in 2005!

Gangs don't normally kill people as initiation! Why would they want their potential gang members to get sent to jail before they ever get into the gang? Assault, robbery, etc. is more of their forte. Watch Gangland if you don't believe me. History channel, folks.

http://www.snopes.com/crime/gangs/walmart.asp

http://urbanlegends.about.com/b/2009/03/18/police-walmart-gang-initation-rumors-are-false.htm

http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/29774009/

So, I open up my email and see that I got a review on my story, "A Place Just For Me," which I wrote around 2-3 years ago and well before the manga was overwith.

Here's what the dumb fuckhead had to say, regarding A FUCKING FANFICTION:

"good story, but I have some corrections.
1. Kyoko knew both Kyo&Yuki, but didn't know who the hell they were
2. Kyoko was not a babysitter.
3. Kyoko met Kyo after he started living with Shishou
4. Kyo did not kill Kyoko, he just happened to be there at the scene of the
accident
5.Kyoko never worked for Shishou or any of the Sohmas
6.Kyo didn't cut school
7.Kyo already confessed to Tohru about Kyoko's death(read books 20-21)
8.Kyo's curse already broke(don't remember if it was in book 22 or 23)
9.In the manga, Tohru has already confessed her love for Kyo(book 21)
10.Kyo does not get locked up due to the curse breaking, in fact, it may have
happened the same season, but at the least, not even a week before.
11. Tohru's dad did not have a gravestone due to that Kyoko had built a
shrine to him in her house.
12.Tohru does not blame Kyo for Kyoko's death.
13.In book 21, Tohru said the one thing sadder than her mom's death, was
seeing Kyo sad.
14.Kyo never actually wins against Kyo in a fight in the whole manga(books
1-23)
15.Yuki has a girlfriend, her name is Machi. If you don't belive me, read
some of the more later Fruits Basket books.

Thereare many more corrections to be done, but I can't list them all, for I
did not read all 27 chapters of your story due to all the mishapen things in
your story. Other then that, Good story!!"


After I collected my thoughts and realized that this idiot deigned to send me something that I already fucking knew because IT WAS MY DAMNED STORY, I sat down and sent DumbFuck a message.

"I wrote "A Place Just For Me" well before the manga was through. If you had looked at the dates I had published it and completed it, you would have noticed and not wasted your time writing that pointless review. I was there up through to the end through the group FruityGroup, and never had I felt a need to go back and re-write it just so it can go along with whatever machinations the mangaka came up with. I included some spoilers up through to a certain point, but nobody wants to read spoilers when they're not ready for them - especially considering most of those spoilers weren't even known to the world of those who weren't a part of FruityGroup. I always warned when I was giving spoilers. You, giving spoilers within a review, could have potentially ruined the series for someone who has not finished--or even started it--yet. The "mishapen things" (which, by the way, you spelled misshapen wrong, and a few other words) in my story were of my own imagination because there wasn't an ending to Fruits Basket by the time I wrote that story. If you had used your imagination for a nanosecond, you might have gotten pulled into the story instead of being annoyed that it wasn't going exactly the way it was supposed to according to you.

Fanfiction is written for fun. If it was meant to read exactly like the manga - word for word, no deviation from the canon, everything happening the way it does in the manga - no one would bother reading or writing fanfiction because there would be no point. They could just go to the store and get the real thing. So lighten up, and don't try to run people's imaginations or stories based on canon."

What a stupid C-word.

I didn't think I was actually going to be tagged for this. Imagine my surprise!

25 Random things about me:

Rules: Once you've been tagged, you are supposed to write a note with 25 random things, facts, habits, or goals about you. At the end, choose 25 people to be tagged. You have to tag the person who tagged you. If I tagged you, it's because I want to know more about you.

To do this, go to “notes” under tabs on your profile page, paste these instructions in the body of the note, type your 25 random things, tag 25 people (in the right hand corner of the app) then click publish.)

1. I love my dog more than people should logically love their dogs. He's like my child. I sometimes show pictures of him on my phone to random strangers, like someone would do with their kid. My mother-in-law told me, "A guy at my work said it, and I'm going to repeat it for your benefit. I don't want to see pictures of your dog any more than I want to see pictures of random people's children." I counter that he's a puppy, and far more lovable. I mean, look at that faaaaace. Lazarus is also the softest medium-sized dog I've ever had.

2. Living in Kansas feels no different than living in Missouri. I sometimes forget that I'm in Kansas at all until my mother-law-comments about something that (I think) jokingly slanders Kansas City.

3. I pride myself on my ability to cook chicken. I can cook stuff on a stove--full meals of varying different things all done at the same time, perfect and hot for dinner. I get nervous when it's in the oven, and most of the time take it out far too soon. I'm not a baker. I couldn't make you good cookies or brownies if I tried and tried again (which I have). I can occasionally make good apple pie.

4. I have more books than anyone I know. I've had to get rid of some, and it was like getting rid of a part of me. When my friends borrow my books, I have to prelude it with directions on how to care for my books (I don't like the spines bent on the paperbacks, and if they're hardback then take the covers off if there is a cover). The same went with books I lent to my students.

5. I want so desperately to be a writer, but I'm terrified that I'm not good enough to be one. Writing is a real passion of mine. A true, lifelong dream would come true the moment I was published.

6. I like to pretend that I'm a fabulous singer. I've been told that I'm good (you incredibly nice people, you!), but I will never go on American Idol because I'm terrified of being told that I suck.

7. For the longest time I wanted to marry Prince William. I'm incredibly happy that I married Andrew, but it would be fucking sweeeeeeet to be a princess.

8. I repeat things I've said in conversations I've had with other people out loud, hours and sometimes days later. I also repeat the same facial expressions and inflections I had during those conversations as well. Andrew's caught me doing it a few times (I'm generally very private about it, so in 7 years together the amount of times he's caught me is pretty small), and he always makes me repeat it and laughs at me, to my huge embarrassment. I don't know why I do this, but I think it stems from my creating stories in my head and acting out what the characters would do/say.

9. My last two years of high school and all four years of college, I spent a lot of my weekend time going to underground concerts in St. Louis at the Creepy Crawl, Mississippi Nights, plus the Pitchfork Festival in Chicago. Andrew introduces me to a lot of new bands and music before they become more known. It give me a sense of being pretty freaking awesome, and Andrew just feels plain smug about it. I saw Coheed and Cambria lonnnng before they were famous, as well as other bands. To name a few: The Go! Team, The Bravery, The Postal Service, Thrice, Poison the Well, The Get Up Kids, The New Pornographers, Andrew Bird, Of Montreal, Art Brut, Andrew W.K., Death From Above 1979, Xu Xu, Head Automatica, Murder by Death, and a whole hell of a lot more.

10. I actually do enjoy being a teacher, but mostly because of the relationships I form with the other teachers and my own students. I get really nervous before each lesson, though, wondering if whether what I'm doing is going to make my students any smarter. I also could give a shit about the standards, or DOKs.

11. I like to pretend that I'm good with change, but I'm actually HORRIBLE at change.

12. I love taking photos. I would love to be a photographer. My house is currently overtaken by photos and it's about driving Andrew insane.

13. I cry when I'm angry. It annoys me that I'm crying, makes me angrier, and then I keep crying. It's a vicious cycle.

14. I have to have something I deem "breakfast food" for breakfast, or I feel sick for the rest of the day. It all stems from when I was six and got sick on Christmas day from eating too much chocolate that morning, or so I was scolded by my mom for. It was just the stomach flu, but I have to have breakfast stuff first now, always.

15. I have only dyed my hair twice, when I was sophomore in high school. It was supposed to be blond, but it turned orange. A few months after butchering its color, I dyed my hair dark brown in the hopes of re-growing out my natural hair color. I've never done highlights or anything either.

16. I hardly know my mom, or that side of the family for that matter. She lives in Fort Walton Beach, Florida.

17. My dad has always been my personal hero for a variety of reasons. My whole life I've been striving to show him that saving me that cold day in February 1997 was worth the sacrifices he's had to make down the road.

18. I was born in the Philippines. I lived in Fort Walton Beach, FL until I was 12, and then St. Charles, MO until this past June.

19. I've been known to lick, grab, and assault my friends. They put up with it lovingly. I have amazing friends.

20. If I hadn't been dating Andrew, I would have gone to Japan to teach English after graduating college. I miss Japan.

21. I love my nephews and nieces and incredibly huge amount; if something happened to my sister or Andrew's sister, I would gladly take those children in my life without a second thought. When Gabe was born, I cried. When Avery was born, Andrew was moved to tears. Logan and Addison were welcome additions. I envy those who get to spend time with them when I can't, and I am secretly very afraid that they won't know me and won't love me. I guess it's not so secret anymore.

22. I HATE THE COLD.

23. I like to exercise and be outside during the warm months. In the winter I do what I'd like to call "bulking up" because I'm too lazy to work out inside and I'm sure as hell not going outside. See 22 as to why.

24. I don't like fingernail polish. I feel like it's choking the life out of my nails.

25. I don't miss high school. I hated the cliques, the drama, and the inability to be on my own if I wanted to. I do miss the time I had for my friendships back then. I miss college a lot, actually, because I could nap all the time, and making friends seemed effortless because everyone was so ready to start anew.

Yes, I am writing about more books. No, I am not a complete loser with no life. I am a loser who fits reading into her life. So nah.

I just finished, not two night ago, the Mortal Instruments trilogy (or the two books that are currently within it), City of Bones and City of Ashes by Cassandra Clare.

I bought the first book, City of Bones on Saturday. I started it on Sunday, December 21. I wasn't even midway through it when I went and bought the second book, City of Ashes from Borders on Monday, December 22.

I was absolutely enthralled in the books! I couldn't get enough of them! I literally petted the books, saying something along the lines, "Oh, please don't end so soon. Please write some more while I'm reading you..." I carried them around in my purse (which isn't too abnormal for me) and read them during the wee hours of the morning because I just couldn't fake that I was pooping that much during the holidays.

Don't act like you don't read while pooping.

Luckily, the trip down to Cape on Christmas Day lent to 3 lovely hours of my reading in a car. Andrew's dad drives slower than molasses. Plus, we had four (yes, you read that correctly) Christmases to celebrate in St. Charles, so I had to quench my lust of the series while schmoozing with loved ones. However, I ended up finishing each book in less than 2 days each, counting our precious time apart while I had to deal with the fam and friends.

Read no further if you want to know nothing of the books.

( Welcome to Amazing Town )



Needless to say, I am practically frothing at the mouth to read the last book in the series, which comes out on March 24. I have read the first chapter of the book--which the author posted on her website--and have read some little snippets (or cookies, as she calls them) that the author has placed on her Myspace page. As much as I abhor going onto Myspace, I do it for the books. And my obsession with them. So far, from what I have read, Clary goes to the "home" of all Shadowhunters in an attempt to find the cure for her mother's magical coma, and comes across Jace in a passionate embrace with some chick with dark hair... and there is a new interest for Clary by the name of Sebastian. Interesting. Really. Can't they advance the book to me?

So, I've been stuck in a writing rut. I have had absolutely no inclination to write in almost half a year--that's basically a record for me. I wanted to write around Christmas time and New Years, but that was because I needed to vent my stress from my job. Stress REALLY makes me want to write, because to me, writing is cathartic--it's good for me to do so, and when I don't I'm absolutely batshit crazy.

After reading as many books as I have this summer, nothing's sparked my interest in writing. Nothing, until Breaking Dawn.

Yes, a billion people hated it. In fact, a huge number of people hate the series itself. I loved it. But I digress. The reason it sparked my interest was because--spoiler alert--it was written in another perspective other than Bella's for a little while. And those few chapters were absolutely... refreshing? I'm not sure how to describe how nice it was to read something that wasn't female POV--not since Harry Potter. Most others are written in a way that I can't seem to really, truly, get into the characters. Well, I did read Fahrenheit 451 this summer, and I did find myself enthralled in Montage's life struggles, but that was after several chapters of my dallying around, not really soaking in the storyline.

Anyhow, I decided to play around with Edward Cullen. I felt that I knew him pretty well--his cadence, how he sees things as black and white, and perhaps the feelings he experienced. He is very close to how I am, actually; I see myself in Edward a lot, which is probably not a good thing.

I wrote a one-shot from Edward's perspective. I was hoping that I could have just a couple people on here read it and tell me what they thought. Have I gotten my mojo back? Is it a shoddy piece of shit that needs to be thrown in the dumpster then put on fire? Is it possible for me to write from a male's perspective?

Anyhow, if I could gain any insightful, constructive feedback, I'd totally appreciate it.

http://www.fanfiction.net/s/4499946/1/Barely_Perceptible

Love you all!

EDIT There are absolutely NO SPOILERS in my fanfiction, not if you've got half and idea what the storyline's about. It is written in a time BEFORE Twilight as a "what if?" piece. If you want to know the question I was asking (and then answering through the story), scroll to the bottom of the fanfiction.

I will admit that this book caught me off guard many times over. Predictable? I think not!

First off, I loved the book! I truly do. It was a great story and it had me wrapped up for almost 12 hours of my life. I don't wish for a moment of that back.

For everyone who is criticizing the book: thank you for your opinion. I'm sorry that you didn't like it much. However, dragging this book and Stephenie Meyers through the mud will do none of us any good. Why not celebrate that we got a resolution at all!

( This post has a BILLION SPOILERS for those who haven't read the book! )

So... wow, this seems a bit surreal. I mean, he was only my student for a quarter, but I still said hi to him in the halls and he was always very polite and kind to me. I think he got in trouble a lot in the other classes on my team, though.

I'm pretty sure he was dealing, or at least doing, drugs; after parent-teacher conferences, me and a bunch of other teachers who were getting ice cream saw him standing around the 7-11 with a large wad of cash in his hand. He was ready to bolt when he saw us careen into the parking lot, but once he saw it was us he relaxed, thumbed his money, and then poked it into his pocket without making eye contact with any of us. When we called his name and asked him why he wasn't at school that day, he smiled timidly and shrugged.

He made a horribe, tragic decision. Now he has to live with the consequences of having killed a friend.

http://www.stltoday.com/stltoday/news/stories.nsf/stlouiscitycounty/story/6DD6201241761F6E862574340049BE51?OpenDocument

excerpt: "Eduardo was sitting in a chair, on the back porch of a home, when a 14-year-old boy shot him in the top of his head."

Wedding planning is coming along verrrrrrrrry slowly. There is still so much left to do! We're finally getting the invitations out (and therefore have stopped having nightmares about no one coming!), and I still need to pay the DJ, the flowers person, get the programs printed, figure out the music for the DJ and organist, as well as meet with the ladies at the reception hall to start figuring out what my cake is going to look like--OH, and to pay them off too (but we can't do that until we know how many are coming).

I just had my bridal shower this weekend! It was GORGEOUS!! I couldn't believe how much stuff we got, and it was really funny that we got three toasters! I was actually kinda sad that Andrew couldn't be a part of the party; he was downstairs watching his niece, Avery. He would appear upstairs sometimes when Avery would sneak up and wouldn't come back down. When I did get to see him, I relaxed and felt all the tension of having the attention all on me melt from my shoulders. I was pacified by the fact that he was right downstairs. I only get to see him on weekends, and that took such a large chunk of our time together out of the weekend. Next weekend we have a Pampered Chef shower that he can be a part of, which makes me happy. I'm not sure if you're going to be able to view them, but I posted some pictures here here and here. But yeah, wedding planning is a luxury compared to doing homework; both are stressful, but wedding planning is infinitely more fun.

I told Andrew (my fiance) that I am to have my 40-page paper done in two weeks, and he told me that I was Not Allowed to read, write, or do anything that did not pertain to Fellows work for the next two weeks. I interjected that there was still so much to do for the wedding and he said, "Just tell me what to do, and I'll do it! It's time I step in and help!"

.... is it terrible that I'm worried that he might muck something up? I should give him more credit, but... can't help but feel a little trepidation at his help. I think this is normal. It's like handing a very important document and a crayon to a two year old and asking them not to draw or scribble on it. I should have more faith in him. : )

So, MAP testing has officially started. Allow me to shoot myself in the face because it's lasting for the ENTIRE month of April! We're testing every Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday, from 7:45-9:15 for three weeks straight. Then we get squished classes, so instead of them being 50 minutes they are now around 30-35. So, basically nothing gets done in my class because our kids are so fried that they can't even think straight. Hell, I'm fried, and I'm only scribing for one of my students! Hello April Struggle! Goodbye, Days Where I Liked My Job.

I've been getting stuff done for my wedding. YAY! However, there was Wedding Drama this past Sunday that isn't even worth talking about in detail. Basically, one of my bridesmaids went off on me about another bridesmaid (Andrew's sister) and my future mother in law who, she claims, is "taking over the wedding, manipulating, and making it THEIR wedding and not yours and Andrews! I'm SICK OF IT!" True, they're a tad on the manipulative side. However, they've done a lot for me. She and I patched things up, ate some food, and got my invitations worked out. We're doing good.

I've also been having the severe itch to start writing again. It's a major part of my life--or it was before Fellows--so having no time to do so has really taken a large chunk of myself and displaced it somewhere. I have no time to even think about the next chapter of the story I started; the plot is still fresh and brewing in my mind, but if I'm not writing a paper for Fellows or doing something regarding teaching, wedding, or sleeping (oh sleep, how I miss thee), then I'm basically not existing. I just really want to write. But I don't have the time to do so. And I'm very secretive about my writing. When I found out that Mark Twain used to fret and moan over how crappy his work was until his wife and seventy other people pushed him into publishing every single work of his, it made me feel like less of a freak of nature.

My kids keep playing "house" and occasionally say strange things like, "You're the mom and we're the kids, Ms. Franklin!" Let me remind you that I work with kids upwards from 11 to 16 at a middle school. It makes me feel strange because I've actually responded to kids calling me Mom, and I'm not a mother!! Not to mention the fact that my students randomly say things like, "MOM... I mean, MS. FRANKLIN!" They're always uber embarrassed. It's funny.

And I need to know if this is kosher. I started a MySpace page for my students as a teacher. I've been getting students to friend me and we're having short conversations already (I only just started it this past Tuesday). Is this a bad thing? I'm not friending anyone who is not one of my students or a student of the school I work for, and I'm screening all messages and whatnot. But, I'm afraid that this is broaching grounds that aren't okay. Opinions?

Ah, Spring Break is over. Quite the sad deal, but at least now I know that we only have 8.5 weeks left to go until the end of the year. Really, this year has been about surviving instead of teaching.

However, today I got a peculiar comment. It's the second time I've gotten this comment from strangers. The first time was from a substitute teacher that used to be on the Board of Education here in St. Louis. I went into his classroom (or, actually, Dang's classroom) to help him with a particularly rowdy group of 8th graders. While circling the room, I helped students get on task and told them a few ways to get started with the work (8 pages worth of reading). When I turned around, the sub was standing close and had a strange look on his face. Tilting his head to the side, he said, "You really care about these kids, don't you?" I nodded, wondering why he would make such a crazy comment; you don't become a teacher when you hate children, and you definitely don't work in the city if you can't like at least some of the kids. He then nodded back and said, "You know, you should be the next superintendent! I could give you a good reference. I was on the board for (X amount of) years. We need more people like you in this district. We need a change! People who care for the children!" He continued to ramble on while I became pale. I finally stuttered out, "Uhhh... this is only my first year teaching. I don't think I could be super." I then exited the room as quickly as I could before he could rope me into any more conversation.

Today, I was talking with Jenny and a sub for Kelli. As we were discussing some of the 7th graders, the sub suddenly said to me--with the same look that Dang's sub had had, one of astonished awe--"You really care for these kids, don't you?" I let her know that I did, and she smiled broadly.

... Does it show, or something? Maybe in my speech, it comes out? Regardless, isn't that such a strange comment? Shouldn't you be a teacher if you care for children and their welfare, their mental health, and general smarts? I do, but at the same time I feel like I am the worst teacher ever. I don't know; I know I have a lot to learn, basically. And I feel like everyone else has it all together--Dang, Brienne, Jenny, and Ashley especially; she is so on the ball and has such great control of the kids--while I'm struggling to make it every day. Apples to oranges, I know, I know. But still. It's hard not to compare.

This week has been particularly hard since it's right after spring break, and it's a shortened week due to parent-teacher conferences on Thursday night and Friday. They've been rowdy, and rather psycho in the case of many of them. However, there are some that are really buckling down and working their butts off. Or, they have for these three days, anyhow. Next week is a crapshoot.

For journals, I'm having them write about the rules of the reading area, and just a general refresher on the procedures. I feel like they tend to forget over the weekend what they're supposed to do in my class.

We're also experimenting with expository paragraphs. We have a model written by Read180, and then we have a graphic organizer where they can shift through the different aspects of their neighborhood. A mistake I've made on the graphic organizer is that I took it too literal--what they meant by neighborhood was that of the city the students live in, not the actual neighborhood. So some of my classes have a harder paragraph to write compared to my later hours when I realized my error.

For some students, I'm differentiating instruction by not doing the expository paragraph, and instead I'm using sight words to help them string together sentences and create more fluency. With Hatija, she is having a really hard time with it. She likes it sometimes, but today she was literally sweating over getting them right. Granted, I had made some of the sentences a little harder because for a hot minute she was getting them quickly, but it was still hard for her to do them. For example, for a sentence that I had made to string together to say, Would she read about boys, Hatija mixed them together to say, She read would about boys. After I talked with her for a minute, and read them aloud, had her read the sentence aloud, she realized that the sentence made no sense (she can generally tell when they aren't right). However, she suddenly started to say, "I need the! She would read a lot the boys." I was confused for a moment. I pointed to the card she had gotten wrong and I said, "What's this word again?" She pronounced it correctly and said, "Ohhhh. About. But I still need the. She would read about the boys." I talked her out of it, but I still don't think she understood why I was telling her that she didn't need an article to explain the situation about reading.

Hatija needs a lot of work. Sometimes I wish I had a class of just her so that I could work one-on-one with her more often, but it's just not meant to be like that apparently. But she's very receptive, and she tries very hard. However, she really likes the sight-words-into-sentences game we play. She whined that she didn't like writing the sentences down though. When I told her that it was one of the only ways to make sure her writing got better, she relented. Hatija then commented quietly, "I like this. It makes me feel like I'm actually learning." I cocked my head to the side and asked, "You don't feel like you learn doing other things?" She shrugged and replied, "I feel like I can do this. Like I'm learning."

Adrijana, Brenda, Azra, and Seth were given the cards too, and I made it a race to see who could make a sentence the fastest. They were getting them right and left, not pausing for a minute to have to read the words again. Working in pairs, they got the sentences done quickly. Adrijana whooped when she and Brenda won overall, and cried out happily, "Ms. Franklin, this was so much fun! We have got to do this more often! I actually feel like I'm doing something when I do this!" The other groups agreed, and Azra snuggled her way into my arms and said, "Can we do this again tomorrow?"

Perhaps I should make a ton more cards and make it a thing we do at least once a week?

By the way, I'm still confused as to what I'm doing with my data.

I'm sorry, but I've just got to share this with someone.

I AM SO AMAZED AT HOW PEOPLE FIND OTHERS ON MYSPACE!!

Today I just got a message from a girl that I used to be best friends with down in Florida back in 5th and 6th grade. I moved in February of 1997 to St. Charles and haven't heard from anyone from my past in a long time with the exception of a few people. It's a past that I left behind for a reason--it's not so pretty, followed by years in St. Charles that were actually darker than those in Florida. However, she was one of my best friends through those dark years in Fort Walton Beach, and I didn't have a way to keep in contact back then. She moved; I moved--there was just no way. And SHE FOUND ME!! HERE!! I'm just amazed. Freaking, absolutely amazed.

I'm sorry, I'll end that rant. But I'm just fascinated with this all. Absolutely fascinated. Whenever I used to try to find people I never could. I think I'm myspace illiterate.

Today I decided to shake things up a bit. It's normally funday Friday, but it has been so long since we've been here on a Friday that I needed to have them work a little first.

I had my students write in their journals about "If you could read whatever book you wanted to, what kind of book would that be? Why?"

Anthony answered that "If I couldn't read a book about relaconsips (relationships)." He told me he wanted to read one about girls, mostly.

Emina wrote, "If I could reade whatever it would be about prombis." I think she meant problems.

Ensia wrote, "I would read about Ms. Franklin. because I would Love to no what u Love." She wrote me a note earlier this week that says,

"Dear Ms. Franklin.
Did u no that i Love u so much and that ur my hero. But me and u are like best friends. And I <3 that! I <3 u alot.

by: Enisa"

I was really touched by that note, and really humbled. I've never been anyone's hero before!

Adrijana wrote, "the book would be about Brenda future. Be cause I want to know how is it goin to be in the future of Brenda's life." Brenda wrote similarly about Adrijana. I thought that was clever, but it shows me no insight as to what she likes to read about!

Joseph wrote, "I would read king of the hill. I like it because it was so cool. I always because it is cool." That's one of our Read180 books, so I guess he'd like more stories about King of the Hill.

Seth explained that he "would read a book about skateboarding and Biking because those are my favorite things to do."

And Azra... "I would read about a girl that lost her family. and how she lost her family in the forest. because it would be fun to read." That seems so morbid and then funny that I didn't even know what to make of it!

Hatija told me that she doesn't really like to read at all because it comes so hard for her. So she doesn't know what kinds of books she's want to read. She threw something down on the paper: "I would read about love stiries." Hatija does like hearing about romance.

So, I read out a chapter of Bruce Coville's book, Oddly Enough. The chapter I read aloud was entitled "The Box," and it's about a boy named Michael who is given a box by an angel and is charged with keeping it safe for almost his whole life. I wanted them to inference and guess as to what is in the box because ultimately we never find out what's in it. Each class was absolutely enraptured with the story! It has suspense, and they are just dying to find out what on earth is inside of the box! On top of that, I got to do a couple of scary voices of those who are trying to steal the box from Michael, and the kids thought it was hilarious. The more I got into it, the more they got into it.

Second hour was convinced, in part of Terry, that it was most definitely a fairy or a baby angel. Haris D. asked me what page we stopped on so that he could read the book later. "I have to find out more!" he exclaimed, pacing until he decided to get onto a computer.

Third hour was convinced that it was THE angel in the box, or maybe even just some other angel. Ibrahim stated, "Maybe it's another life with his woman!"

Sixth hour was bored with the story, and only Fahrudin tried to guess. He thought it was an angel, and Saladin and Hatija went along with him. Angeles had no opinion. Fahrudin got so into the book that he and I ended up reading another chapter. He loved that book. I'm really glad that he did too, because it gave us something in common to talk about that is literary related.

Seventh hour was so into it that Adrijana asked me if I could read to them like I did today on Monday (the class emphatically agreed). Seth thought that it was a bright light. Erik thought it might be the stairway to get to heaven. Joseph thinks that it might be Michael's next life, and then Emina stated that it might be Michael's life started all over again.

It was really interesting to hear their ideas, because really, no one was wrong! We never find out what's in the box. : )

Tuesday, February 26, 2008
Bone weary and trudging forward
I am weary. Both in heart and body. I feel bad writing this, but I'm just so tired all of the time, and I can't help but wonder if it's my students who are creating this weariness. I'm so tired that I can't even work out. I don't feel like doing Fellows work, and I haven't been sleeping well at night. In fact, I haven't slept more than an hour in two nights. I'm exhausted. The last time I experienced these emotions I ended up with a mild case of the stomach flu back in January.

I know that certain classes are causing me to re-think if whether I should be a teacher next year. My third hour is a constant source of my worst classroom management (I'm super ashamed whenever someone comes to observe!); my seventh just wears me down. Last Wednesday with my third and seventh hours were awful. I don't even want to write about it. But all I have to say is that the sixth graders in seventh hour are just off the wall, and I'm regretting using them as my data group. I was so angry at the two students that were acting out. They made my room look like a circus.

I've been seeing some success with the Read180 program and the differentiated instruction techniques I've been working on. Many of my students are starting to progress into the second disk of the computer-based component of the Read180 program, which has caused others to really want to speed up their progress. The first disk, Art Attack, is pretty boring. The second disk, Disasters, is really interesting because it talks about natural disasters and the devistation that comes of tornadoes, floods, hurricanes, and volcanoes. A handful of students are done with the first disk (which makes me wonder whyyy, because they should have been done with it by now, but I see them doing it so I just don't get it...). They've been asking a lot of questions:

"Can you run away from a volcano? What about a tornado?"
"Is it possible for there to be an earthquake here? THERE IS!? Oh my gosh, duck and coverrrr!!"
"Why are there things like floods and volcanoes? Don't those kill people? Why?"

Seth informed me, after reading the book Hiroshima (a Read180 skinny version of the horrible tragedy), "Ms. Franklin! Did you know that if only half of the world's nuclear bombs went off, the world would blow up? ONLY HALF! That's messed up. We need to get rid of these nuclear bombs before someone accidentally blows them up."

Another student informed me, after I read with him in the reading area, "This book is actually pretty good. I didn't think it would be cause the cover is sucky."

And I'm noticing that my second hour is by far the best hour at doing the reading area. I might just throw a root beer float party for them to celebrate how well they're doing.

Thursday, February 14, 2008
I have been CRRAAAZY busy
So, SLPS has decided that blogger.com is against policy and has "kinda" blocked it off. What that means is that I completely lost all the posts that I typed up and forgot to copy and save. Which makes me frustrated.

I've been pretty busy with my students and with my coursework. Last night in our research class, we worked on getting our data written down. I went through three surveys and was absolutely astonished to find that my students answered most of the questions wrong on pretty much all of the surveys. For example, when Irma answered the question on the Burke's Reading Inventory, What would you like help with as a reader? she answered, "Doctor".

What!? Doctor!? I guess what she answered in her head was what would she like to be when she grows up, but how does that have anything to do with the question? The rest of the questions were similar, and it made me feel like a rather crappy teacher. On top of that, I had read the questions off to the students, one at a time. I just don't get it. I'm going to have to have them take those surveys again, just to get a first and last attempt at them.

Irma, just to let you know, got into a nasty fight with another girl about three weeks ago. The next day her family moved her to Kentucky. I now have to find another student to use as a test subject.

Jero*, the amorous Latino who liked hugs from me and rubbing himself and sticking his face into my neck and sniffing me, has been moved out of my class. About two weeks ago he came back from being shipped off to another school (Blow) because they did not have an ESOL program. He caught me after school, claiming he left a green pencil in my room. I had remembered seeing one, so I let him in. However, as soon as the door closed behind us, he grabbed me into a hug and would not let go for ten whole minutes. Mrs. Stanley had left and so had the rest of the floor, leaving me alone with him completely.

I explained to him how uncomfortable I was, how this might look to other people, how my fiance might feel if he walked into the room. I tried prying away, I tried pushing, elbowing. His only response was, "This is how people in my culture show their affection."

After ten minutes I got him off of me, and walked him to my door. I was shaky and really upset with myself for--AGAIN--not following the rule of being alone with a male student. He asked for another hug and I said no. He then leaned forward and tapped his cheek, saying, "How about a leetle kees, Mees Frankleen." I yelled at him, "NO! Get out!" and he left. I cursed myself out for hours until I realized that it was not my fault; I did no wrong by letting him come in to get his pencil (which he never got, obviously). I don't wear revealing clothing, and I was just as kind to him as I am to any student. He just got the wrong idea.

He skipped my class for the remaining week, which was fine by me. Come that Monday, I asked for him to be removed from my class. I told Mrs. Brown, Laurencia, and Mrs. Firestone about his third (and hopefully last) incident. The last thing I need is to be labeled as a pervert; there really are some teachers who like that type of attention, but I am not one of them. It freaked me out so much I had nightmares about Jero being in my class, and--good Lord this is so stupid--I get slightly scared when I see him in the hallway. I shouldn't be scared of one of my students.

Anyhow, other than that classes are going relatively well. The kids are really getting into the routine of Read180, and have been able to do it even when I have a sub.

GET THIS! I was gone for the flu about two weeks ago. I had not expected it to happen, so I had prepared the board for the next day. I knew that since I was calling in that morning (technically, I came, tossed my cookies, and left within 20 minutes of getting there), I wasn't going to have a sub, but the ISS teacher filled in for me that day.

The kids went to their stations! I was so shocked! They did their journals, some finished their writing station packets that we had been working on, and they all did what they were supposed to do. I about died when I found that out, and I was SO HAPPY that they're becoming responsible. I wanted to throw confetti in the air and yell HURRAY!! I praised them all, of course, which they loved.

Also, I've been sending good notes home. It's especially working for those students who have been naughty all first semester, and when they have a good day I send a note home with them. It's completely turned around several of my most mischevious students, and on another good note a behavior plan I'm working on with another student is really helping as well. Kayse, we believe, has ADD and cannot sit still for more than 5 minutes at a time. She's normally doodling, writing notes, or being very loud and disruptive. I started a behavior plan with her last week and she's really responding well. She's cleaned up her behavior in her other classes, and really keeps track of her three goals we created together. She knows that having a behavior plan isn't a good thing, and tells other students that this is "for me to better my behavior. You're good, so you don't need one. This is for me and Ms. Franklin." She also told me that the chart really helped her track herself and to know if she's doing good or not. It's a great step for her, and I love that she's honest with herself when she knows she hasn't done well.

All in all--and hopefully I'm not jinxing myself!--this quarter is sizing up to be pretty good.

So, my students worked up to their Funday Fridays, all with the exception of my 5th hour. However, they have to take a 3 question mini-quiz, and listen to me read before getting free time. The questions on the quiz are:

1. What does reading in the reading center look like?

2. When you are done with a book, what should you do next?

3. Why are you not supposed to move the headphones or unplug them?

I tell them, "Since everyone seems to be having issues reading in the reading center, I've decided that the only way to get in some reading time is to read to you for five minutes. If you don't like this, considering that it's taking up your Funday Friday time, perhaps you should start reading in the reading center. Otherwise, start expecting this on Fridays."

Second and third hour took it like champs. They took the quiz, and nodded their head and agreed that they deserved to be read to since they couldn't read in the reading center. Jose M. timed me on his watch for exactly 5 minutes. Second hour was great, chatting about the book afterwards and then getting their freetime, being quiet and doing exactly what I wanted them to do.

Third hour fought the reading time a little more, but once I started really got into it. Daniel M. came over to watch my finger move as I read (I started to trail with my finger once Daniel got up to watch). Once he got up, Michael then moved right in front of me and sat down. Charles then slowly got up and positioned himself next to Michael; all three boys are my biggest troublemakers, and all three were completely enraptured in "Confessions of a Teenage Drama Queen." They even made comments to one another as I read ("Al Pacino! That's Scarface, dude! Oh man, Scarface!" It was wonderful. I then played Uno with Daniel while helping Estherlin with her mini quiz (she can't read nor write), and Michael came over to play with us. It was very peaceful and fun, and the boys kept saying, "Oh Ms. Franklin, I'm so sorry for doing this but... draw four/reverse/skip." We had some good laughs, and Michael did a good job of keeping his comments to himself.

Fifth hour, Laurencia and I are revamping. They are my lowest group, barely able to read "See Spot Run." They can't form sentences in the written word, and get very discouraged and upset with Read180. Not to mention the fact that they are all self-contained and have an awful teacher who I shall call Mrs. Slow. I'm pretty positive that if she tested for it, she would have a very severe mental disability. She takes out a lot of her frustrations on her students, calling them names such as "retard" and yesterday she yelled and apparently called a boy "bitch". We're trying to get her fired by gathering as much incriminating data on her (as if the fact that her students can't read and write after being with her an entire semester shouldn't be incriminating enough!!). Laurencia rocked that classroom. I wish I could be as good, as self-assured, and as amazing as she is with the students. She told me that from now on she's going to be with me during 5th hour so that we can get their reading scores up together. It's going to be great getting to teach along with her.

Seventh hour... I just don't know what to do with them. They're my research group, and they're just far too comfortable in my classroom. They're mostly 6th graders, and they're just nothing but drama, drama, d-r-a-m-a. They're too loud and rambunctious for Funday Friday, so I'm going to have to start structuring it a little more for them. They can't handle the freetime. They balked at the reading today as well, while my other classes took it easily eventually. These guys talked during it, and I constantly had to ask them to stop talking and pay attention for the very short 5 minute span. I was disappointed to say in the least. I then took away special privilages during their freetime, because they did deserve some for doing well this week.

Other than that, I'm so sick of reading about these freaking immigrants, and the kids are too. They keep saying, "Didn't we already FINISH this!? I'm tired of hearing about immigrants!" I just want to move forward, but that's just not happening because they just can't handle getting things accomplished quickly.

I have noticed something very interesting though. They are beginning to really get into the Read180 program on the computer, and the kids are loving hearing themselves recorded, and spelling. Several times the students have said during transition periods, "Nooooo, can I please just finish this spelling thing! I want to spell this!" Or if they could just stay in the writing center with me and finish the packet (I photocopied the rBook for them to be able to write and circle main idea and details). They completely dislike the reading center, and I understand only because it's hard to like something that gives you trouble.

Laurencia told me that I've changed since first semester. She said that I have better classroom management now, and that the kids are responding differently to me than before. She noticed that I'm not as burned out or crying all of the time, like I used to be. I've still cried about stuff, but I'm doing my best to let it go as soon as I sign out and leave my keys in the basket. I think, though, that it's backfiring on me because I have been waking up at night a lot full of anxiety, and having dreams about the children. So while I tamp it down and ignore it while awake, I believe that it's coming through to my dreams and as a result I've not been sleeping well.

So, tonight Andrew and I had a very good conversation.

Andrew: What're you doing right now?
Me: ::chomp chomp:: Eating Hamburger Helper. It's good. David made it.
Andrew: ... silence.
Me: : ....silence + chomping
Andrew: Sooooo... I think we need a hamburger suit.
Me: silence. Chomp a few times.
Andrew: I would wear it, and go around doing good Samaritan deeds, like helping old laaaadies, and walking them across the streeeeeet.
Me: ::taking a drink of V8 splash::
Andrew: So that way, I'll be a hamburger helper.

Today I met with the third group in 7th hour to finish up the article, "A New Immigration BOOM" regarding the large number of Latinos coming to America. This time I met up with Irma, Hatija, Seth, Kayse, and Enisa.

Irma (672), Seth (250), Enisa (231), Emina (520), Adrijana (244), and Anthony (BR) are the students whom I've decided to make into my research students, with Enisa and Seth being moderately high for my group of students, Irma and Adrijana being my medium students, and Anthony and Emina for my lower students.

Irma and Hatija were appalled to read the line, "Some people say that immigration hurts America."

"That makes me mad! It's racist!" Irma said, Hatija promptly agreeing. The other students nodded their heads, while Seth put his head on the table.

Due to his past relations with students from other countries, I have come to learn that Seth is a closet racist, saying things like, "I hope all Iraquis die!", "All the Bosnians here are assholes." and "We should just blow up the middle east completely." He also draws Nazi signs on his folders brought from home, writing in the margins that he hates Nazis and that they should all die too. However, why would he draw such large symbols? It doesn't make a whole lot of sense to me, unfortunately, and as a result a lot of the Bosnian, Russian, and other students pick on him and shun him due to his narrow view on immigrants and those from other countries.

Irma then began, "Can I tell you something, Ms. Frankliiin? It's about this, and about people coming to America. So, me and Guadalupe were coming from Mexico, you know? And we didn't speak a lot of English but we knew some. And people were standing on the borders telling us that we needed to go back, that we weren't wanted here, that our kind wasn't welcome here. Then they started to throw stuff at us, and cuss at us. I mean, why would they do that? Why would people hate us that much? And then there was this time that I was out with my friends and these guys told us that we should go back to where we came from. My friend slapped him! It was so funny. But they were so mean!"

Enisa, who is ever the quiet one, then said, "This one time that happened to me and my dad! We were at the mall, and some guy walked up to my dad and said that he should go back to whatever country we came from. My dad was so mad, but he didn't say anything and just walked away. I felt so awful."

Hatija then launched into her versions of her own tales of racism towards her, and they were very similar in the aspect of how hurt it made her. Then she said, "I mean, all Americans, they hate Bosnians and Gypsies."

I interjected, "But I'm American. Are you saying that I don't like you and Enisa?"

Kayse then joined in and said, "I don't hate Bosnians or Gypsies. I like you guys."

Seth did not redeem himself and kept his mouth shut.

Hatija then amended, and said, "Okay, some Americans hate Gypsies and Bosnians."

I praised her and asked her to see the difference in what she had just said, and she smiled and nodded, knowing that there was a difference between the two.

The conversation then took a large turn when Kayse said, "It's just like white people not liking black people. Who cares what the color of your skin is? I mean, black is just a little darker than white, Hispanics are just a little darker than white... so what should it matter?"

Irma then said, "Yea, we all have the same parts. We all have feelings. How can you hate someone for something like their skin color?"

Then my buzzer went off, and it was time to end the discussion.

My feelings on the discussion are that they all went phenominally! The students really got into it, especially my 2nd and 7th hours. I got a lot of insight into their views on immigration, and how they feel considering they are a large immigrant population. The only thing that I would change would be to get a recorder to make sure that I could have gotten everything they said word for word. I was just so proud that my students were able to have discussions on a topic the heavily effects a large percentage of our population.

I know I really only need to focus on my 7th hour since that's my research group, but 2nd hour with Cadiedras, Haris D, Jose M, Kadir, and Terry went really well too.

Cadiedras was my little devil's advocate, saying things like, "They steal our shops. Before the Bosnians came, we had other shops but now all you see is Bosnian shops and bars and clubs."

Kadir agreed with her and said, "Before the Russians came (he's Russian), there were other shops, but really... there are only Bosnian bars around here. And food places."

Haris D. bristled, being Bosnian. However, everything he said eventually turned into a joke. "You racist! We didn't steal anything! You should've gotten there first. And anyway, my dad owns one of the restaurants around here, and I've been to a bunch of the bars because my dad takes me to them! We didn't steal anything."

... your dad takes you to the bars around here??

Cadiedras never relented, which I was shocked and mildly proud of her for. Not that I agree with her on her stance, but the fact that a peer was attempting to knock her down, and she refused to back down. She's a very shy, amiable girl with moderate MR, but she's come a long way since the beginning of the year on her social skills and writing levels.

Terry was only really upset about the fact that she does believe that immigrants get the jobs that Americans want, but that's no reason to really hate them. She just thinks that it's unfair.

Haris D. whispered, "You should have gotten there first..."