Muppets are Queen!

I love the shout out to the Mah-na Mah-na guy!

Happy Thanksgiving! (I'm thankful for Muppets.)

New Moon (Movie Review)

Maybe it should be called New Swoon.

Read no more if you are worried about spoilers; however, I'm assuming that anyone reading this has either devoured the books multiple times, or couldn't care less about the fate of our young, star-crossed lovers and has already hit the "next blog" tab on the top bar.

I'll start by saying the I'm firmly Team Edward. Edward Cullen = the best, most potent realization of a teenaged girl's fantasy boy --- chaste, painfully in love, and masochistic to boot. Yes, firmly Team Edward.

As for the movie, it stays true enough to the book so as not to upset the millions of fan girls (and moms). Edward gives up Bella for her own good, breaking her heart in the process. Devastated, Bella decides the only way to channel her undead lover is to make reckless, life-threatening decisions. Enter Jacob, a couple of motorcycles, and cliff diving. Oh, and Jacob comes out of the woods as a werewolf. Thinking Bella is dead (way to go Jacob), Edward jets to Italy to visit the Victorian looking vampires of the Volturi. They're like undead royalty and it's highly recommended that you don't piss them off. So, of course, Edward and Bella piss them off. Fighting ensues, and a promise, to save Bella's (mortal) life, is made.

What's more is that there is rain, lots of rain, to mirror Bella's gloomy trance and stormy heart. There's the token scene in which Mike, the foil of all comedic sensibilities in the series, is embarrassed and defeated. And there is Charlie, Bella's sheriff father, who hasn't a clue what's going on.

All that aside, here are some personal thoughts about the movie (and book) separate from the specific review:

1. I get why some girls are Team Jacob. Once he cuts that unruly, uneven mop of hair and (let's be honest) strips that shirt off, which happens in 90% of his scenes, Taylor Lautner isn't hard to look at. However, given more screen time, we were able to pick apart his flaws: Renee Zellweger eyes, and a bulbous tip on his nose. Sorry Taylor, your perfection is still light years from that of Robert Pattinson.
2. And while we're talking about Robert Pattinson, good lord that boy oozes sex. Granted, they paint him pale and rosy up his lips --- and that hair, oh that hair (his sideburns alone should have a post dedicated to them) --- if he served as the traveling salesman of the undead, I'd sell my soul for an eternity with him. He's broody, smoldering, and romantic as hell --- in other words, every 15 year old girl's fantasy.
   
3. Why oh why do they insist on making Jasper (that's him in the middle) look like Edward Scissorhands? It verges on laugh inducing.
4. The biggest problem with the series? Both Jacob and Edward are the perfect boyfriend-wanna-bes. They are romantic to a fault, kind, thoughtful, giving, protective, sexy --- but they are both inexplicably and painfully attracted to a whiny shrew with squinty eyes, an open mouth, and a pained look on her face. Why does this book appeal to girls when the heroine is a horrible, unlikable girl who doesn't deserve the attention showered on her like the rain in Forks? It's no secret that I don't like Kristen Stewart, so I guess it is only fitting that she play the role of Bella, another character I feel little empathy for. Jeez, Bella, shed some tears. Fight back. Stop laying around on your bed like a helpless housewife from the 50s and do something!

The movie ends slightly different from the book...it cuts short the ending to set up a cliffhanger of sorts. I'll see the next one, I'm not a masochist, but I won't feel differently about Bella. And it will only make me lose respect for both Edward and Jacob.

What the hell are those two boys doing with her when I'm available? (Yeah, I know it's only a film based on a book, and that I'm not 15, and that I'm married...but yanno.)

Found this online today and thought it would be a good ending to this post. Enjoy how the first movie should have ended. (I love when cartoon Edward shushes cartoon (and still annoying) Bella.)

Can he make it on his own someday?

Monday marked the first day of a week long vacation from school for my children.

Due to my husband's work schedule, and my obligations to participate in conferences, they were unsupervised.

This is not a problem for oldest son, who, at 16, has always acted as though he was 40 years old (even when he was 2 years old), and makes decisions more sound than most of the ones my husband makes. Nor is it a problem for daughter, who basically only slinks out of her room to take care of food or bathroom needs and can hardly make a bad decision within the confines of her four bedroom walls.

Middle son? Well, that's another story.

(the following story was gleaned together from a number of reliable, and not-so-reliable, sources)

He awoke around 11:00AM, and ambled downstairs. Distracted by the video game, he reclined on the couch and shot at things for an hour. Then he remembered to eat breakfast. At noon.

Following breakfast, he retired to the basement to build Legos with his older brother. Just short of a fight, he managed to reach his room before making a bad choice (read: punching, kicking or shoving).

Once in his room he was distracted by the Artemis Fowl books that he recently rediscovered on the shelf in his room. ("I have a shelf?")

middle son: I went up to my room at 2:30 this afternoon, picked up one of the books, and before I knew it, it was 4:30! So, I missed lunch. And then I was confused. I was hungry, but it was too late to eat lunch and too early for dinner. So, I had a yogurt. It was hard.
me: "Uh huh."

I arrived home from parent-teacher conferences at 6:15PM (I started at 7AM, so it was a long day). Sitting down to dinner, they had a lot to fill me in on.

middle son: "Did you get my Christmas slash birthday list?"
me: "I did. It was missing a lot of stuff. Stuff you'd mentioned to me before."
middle son: "I know. I had to ask R*** what I saw in the stores that I wanted."

(this is met by copious laughter)

me: "Wait, you couldn't remember what you want for Christmas slash your birthday?"
oldest son: "Yeah, and at first I almost got him to ask for things I wanted because he couldn't remember what he wanted."
me: "That's cold."
middle son: "When he asked for a racing game for the PS3, that's when I remembered."
me: "So, not to change the subject or anything, but you'll have to make some hygiene decisions over this break."
middle son: (with disbelief) "Say what?"
me: "You either have to shower in the morning or at night, but you can't skip showers every day."
middle son: "Say what?"

I have to leave early Tuesday morning, too, so I'm a little concerned about the choices he'll make on his second day without supervision.

Animated

That's how oldest son described Joseph Gordon Levitt at the conclusion of SNL this week. Animated --- and that he was, along with a whole host of other adjectives, including: adorable, handsome, athletic, charming, sexy, and, well, funny.

100% better than last week's episode in which we endured the bland and humorless January Jones, Mr. Levitt provided laughs, spirit, and hey --- he knew his lines!

He popped out onto the stage in his signature sweater vest, tie and high top Converse (sigh), opening with the Donald O'Connor dance routine from Singin' in the Rain. Complete with walking on the walls, Joe sang "Make 'Em Laugh."



Yet, as is typical with SNL, the episode was fraught with inconsistencies. (See more here.)

Standouts include "The Mellow Show" (sorry, but Samberg is totally underused --- a young Sandler or Fallon would have never have kept a straight face through this one). Andy Samberg, as Jack Johnson, spouting strange segues like "hemp necklace" or "ultimate frisbee," welcomed such guests as Dave Matthews (Hader), Jason Mraz (JGL), and Ozzy Osbourne (Matthews). Under-educated in the ways of SNL, oldest son said, "Why is Bill Hader playing Dave Matthews when Dave Matthews is a guest on the show?" Anyone who has seen a few episodes knows that the musical guest has agreed to be skewered so that he/she can skewer another celebrity.

See for yourself. Matthew does a mean Ozzy.



And, saving the best for last (why do they do that? --- thank goodness for TiVo), Joe plays John Cusack playing Lloyd Dobler. When the nosy neighbor comes over to see what all the cassettes are for, hilarity ensues.



I know, I know, my view of the episode was tarnished by the adorable host, but what can I say? I'm smitten. (I'm wondering how many posts I have about a person before I give 'em their own tag.)

Dreaming of Brothers

I had a dream last night.

I'm a horrible sleeper; I overachieve at many things, but without the help of this:I don't sleep at all. (Or, to look at the glass as half full, maybe I am just an overachiever at staying awake.)

And since my slumber is drug induced, I don't normally visit the land of dreams. Or at least remember them. To recollect them you have to fade in and out of REM, and drugs sorta hold you hostage in REM. At least that's how I'm going to describe it.

Anyhow, last night I dreamed I was a guest on Jimmy Fallon's late night program (you should stop reading now if you think this is actually going to be hilarious or even remotely entertaining; I'm simply musing).

I like Jimmy Fallon, in fact, I've been known to crush on him once when he was a regular cast member on SNL. I think I might have been one of the only people who endured and enjoyed his goofy smile, perennially mussed hair, and inability to get through an entire sketch without laughing. He's cute, ya'll.

I TiVo his late show, since by the time it airs, I'm resting happily in a drug induced coma. Then, when I have a few minutes and no one else is watching TV (read: never), I'll check to see who visited the set and maybe catch a few minutes before TiVo gets antsy and deletes it.

I'll be the first to say it: Jimmy Fallon is a terrible interviewer. And yet, he is still oddly endearing. Nervous and stammering, his interviews rarely leave an opportunity for the guest to actually speak, much less answer any question he might ask.

Here's an example:


Let's get this straight, I don't particularly like Kristen Stewart, but she was on the other night and I noted that, once again, Jimmy Fallon didn't actually let her talk. Of course, she isn't known for being particularly forthcoming, but still, he asked her questions and then, without pausing, went on and on and on.

Anyway...I was on Jimmy's couch in my dream. I have no idea why I was on the show, but I looked fabulous. I had the hair I would have in my dreams (ha!), long and wavy, the soft brown color of my youth, parted on the side and falling gracefully across my shoulder. I am wearing a fabulous white dress. I can't see my shoes, but that's probably because I would never wear heels, and most women wear heels when they appear on late night television. Jimmy is talking away, but he isn't letting me say anything. Not a damn thing.

And it was really frustrating.

So, since I was not getting the opportunity to share my wisdom and pithy comments on life, I decided to check out my surroundings.

Thank goodness I did.

Apparently I wasn't the first guest of the evening. (In my pretend world that's because I was a published author, and my book was being made into a much anticipated movie...and author's are never the first guest on the couch.)

Anyway, next to me on the couch is Andy Samberg's brother. (Does he even have one?) And on the other side of him is Robert Pattinson's brother. (Does he even have one?) At least, this is what I'm thinking, because neither of them looks quite like the original, but there is enough of a resemblance that I can tell they are somehow related.

I can vouch for their appearances: I love Andy Samberg, and (blushing) I'll admit to an unhealthy obsession with Robert Pattison. So, yanno, that must explain their presence.

And they are both cute (slightly tweaked versions of their more famous brothers), but, oddly enough, neither of them can talk, either. So, we shrug and listen to Jimmy drone on and on about whatever is popping into his ADD addled brain.

Then I woke up.

And JC's arm was casually draped across my face.

Maybe that's why I couldn't talk in my dream.

Deadly Medley

I think the best stress reliever that I have is my music.

My iPod Mini is ancient and is a source of laughter for my kids (if only they had ever seen my Walkman years before!), but it works (as long as it is plugged into a power source) and holds over 800 of my favorite songs. (Mine's the one on the far left --- I ordered the one on the far right (my favorite color) but was so excited when it arrived that I kept it so I could start loading it up with songs!)

Understand that my music is not popular with most folks who reside in our house. I happen to be the most musically diverse (JC is coughing somewhere reading this) but it's true. I can listen to pop radio with my kids in the car, oldies with my dad on a Sunday afternoon, my college tunes with JC, and almost anything else that comes on.

One of my favorite times of the day is when I close the pocket doors to the kitchen, fire up the stove, and fire up the iPod. I like to crank the volume up and sing along (loudly) to the tunes that play while I'm cooking.

Tonight's deadly medley?

1. Freedom - George Michael
2. Army - Ben Folds
3. Tempted - Squeeze
4. Divine Intervention - Matthew Sweet
5. Portions for Foxes - Rilo Kiley
6. Reservations - Wilco
7. Annie Waits - Ben Folds
8. Buddy Holly - Weezer
9. Love Train - The O'Jays
10. Walk On Me - Ben Kweller

Pretty much a slice of heaven. I love when the musical randomizer in the sky picks a set of songs that lend themselves to happiness and dancing and loud singing.

Bad news? The iPod Mini appears to be on it's last legs. It seems to get stuck in a loop of a few artists (not bad if it's something I'm in the mood to hear) and then may repeat the same songs within the course of an hour. And every time you turn it off and then back on, it starts back at song one instead of continuing through the playlist, which means there are some songs never get their due. No money for a new one right now (we just got some ridiculously enormous TV that I won't complain about too much because, hello, Glee on a huge screen!), so I'll muddle through.

And on that note, I have to go. Seems I need to sing along to Sweet Disposition. Yanno, it's calling me.

Hitting my stride.

I've hear over and over that the burn out rate for teachers is 5 years. If you make it 5 years, the rest is smooth sailing.

I'm in year 3. So far, it's been a rough one. I've blogged about it before --- how the kids are odd, how I haven't made a strong connection with them (as a group or with any single student), how the pressure of PSSA testing is affecting my desire to create good people and not good test takers.

I find myself resenting the amount of time spent planning and preparing each weekend, something I didn't feel before. I find myself wondering how much is enough --- how much of my time, my sweat, my effort, my life. I find myself thinking about what my life would be like if I had a different career.

And it didn't help that we had a "data team meeting" today. At this meeting, we talked about the most recent batch of 4Sight scores (PSSA indicators) that we recently acquired. There was discussion of what to do, how to do it better, how to do it more. ("It" is sort of a ubiquitous expression of every single thing I can think of.) Students felt like numbers instead of someone with a single parent who feels devalued by the lack of financial security, or someone who struggles with spelling but works so diligently to get things correct, or someone who has to wake up her mother every morning in the hopes that by acting like the parent, she won't get another tardy.

It was depressing to listen as I felt I was being told that my all isn't enough. That a 12% increase in scores over the course of two months isn't statistically significant enough. That at that rate, we won't make our goal. That 16 students (out of the 19 who took it) showing an increase of any kind wasn't enough.

Ugh.

Then I trudged down the hallway to my class.

Unexpectedly, Math was fun. I found a way to connect to them today: talk in my ridiculously funny yet oddly affecting kindergarten voice. They love it and find it enthralling, even sitting (literally) on the edge of their seats. And I guarantee that they won't forget absolute value based on my goofy lesson where I asked them to pretend they were a hopping frog or a jumping kangaroo as we looked at a number line full of positive and negative numbers.

Writing was interesting. While I could have been using a PSSA-type passage to teach alliteration, we did (don't tell anyone) an art project to cement the idea in their brains. We drew a creature and colored it. Tomorrow we'll exchange the drawings and write an alliterative poem about the creature. That's using creativity to embed an idea into their little 10 year old brains.

Reading, which I used to dread, has become something I truly enjoy. One of my groups is reading Matilda, and their discussions are fascinating and insightful, and today they were so excited about vocabulary that I could have kissed them all. Then I met with my second group, for whom I modeled a written response related to a piece of text. They were on fire and with me, and asked --- ASKED --- if they could do one without my modeling/help tomorrow!

Tomorrow we will be doing a science inquiry out on the playground based around the paper airplanes they made in class today. Please, dear reader, promise you won't tell on me.

The point of this post?

There was talk (and still is, I guess) about the possibility that I would no longer have to work. That I could end my teaching career for family reasons. And even though it was a sort of an "out there" idea, I entertained it...some days more than others.

But as I walked my class out at the end of the day, I wondered, how could I stop doing this? I might be the last chance for one of these kids and I don't know how to give that up.

So I'll keep trying. Working. Planning on weekends. And hope that instead of worrying that I'll get in trouble or that I'm not focusing every single minute of every single day on something that might be on "the test", I'll think about Deshawn (and other kids) who is different because he walked through my classroom.

Right?