Honeymoon

While we were planning our wedding, Michael suggested that he take charge of planning the honeymoon - and that the whole thing be a surprise for me. I decided to take him up on the offer - planning the wedding was hectic enough, and travel plans tend to stress me out.

He kept me posted about the dates of our trip, but everything else was top-secret. A few months ago I started worrying about our trip - did we need passports? His was expired, and mine would be by the time our trip rolled around (June 16). Were we going to leave the country? If we were going on a cruise, would we need passports for that? Was there enough time to get new passports before June? (This is why he was planning the trip.)

I decided to bring up the passport issue with Michael, because I really didn't want to be stressed out about a trip I had no control over. He decided that we would go to the travel agent and have passport pictures taken, then send off the paperwork just in case we needed them. Even if our trip was to Waupun, we would probably want passports sometime in the future.

Filling out the paperwork was a little bit stressful, because the US Government wants to know the dates of the trip you have planned (no problem) and your destination (big problem for me). Michael filled that part of my form out for me.

Our passports arrived in plenty of time, and I put mine in the safe, with Michael's, and tried to put the whole thing out of my mind.

Not knowing drove me a little bit crazy (what should I pack? How did I know whether we could babysit on the day after we got back - I had no idea whether we'd be jet-lagged or totally relaxed from a week at the spa!) but it was exciting not to know too.

About a week before we left, I made a list of what to pack - including swimsuits (I had to ask Michael if we were going somewhere that would provide towels or whether we should bring our own) and a fleece jacket. Previously, all Michael told me was that I'd need something to dress up in. (That, and we were not going mountain climbing so I could leave the carabiners at home.) I showed him my list, and he approved it, which wasn't all that surprising because there was a little bit of everything on the list! (Later, I asked Karen for packing advice too. She approved my list after Michael told her where we were going.)

Finally, the day of our departure arrived. I had four books in my carry-on bag (assuming we were going to be going in an airplane) because I had no idea whether we'd be speeding from one activity to the next, or hanging out at the beach all week. (Michael said there was a beach available and we could spend as much or as little time there as I wanted. Of course, I had no idea what else there would be to do, which made the beach comment fairly unhelpful.) One of my greatest fears was that I'd be stuck without a book to read. (I got through two of the books I brought, and got halfway through a third.) My top two guesses about our destination were Door County and a cruise.



We dropped Oliver off at the kennel on the north end of town, and Michael headed down Hwy 51 towards I-39. To go north on I-39, he just needed to stay in the right lane on 51. To go south, he needed to be in the left lane. He kept joking that we were going to Wausau (which would be north) but at the very last second, he swerved into the left lane, and we headed south on 39. I was grinning, because I can't remember the last time I was in a car and had no idea where I was going. Can you?

As we approached Hwy 51, I wondered if we would be heading to the Dane County airport. Sure enough, Michael got in the right hand lane and exited. He said we were going somewhere I'd never been before, but I wasn't sure if he knew I'd taken that road to get to the airport before . . . and then he turned into a gas station. He asked if I wanted anything. Food Rule # 57 "Don't get your fuel from the same place your car does." Food Rule # 19 "If it came from a plant, eat it; if it was made in a plant, don't." Food Rule #16 "Buy your snacks at the farmers' market" Food Rule #2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7 - don't eat stuff with high fructose corn syrup or unpronounceable ingredients. (From Michael Pollan's _Food Rules_) No, I didn't want anything. Except I was thirsty. I generally don't like to buy bottled water, because the plastic is bad for the environment, and it is ridiculous to spend a bunch of money on water . . . but what if I was going to be in the car for several more hours? On the other hand, I sure didn't want to buy a bottle of water if I was just going to have to throw it out in the airport in a few minutes . . . finally, Michael suggested I just go ahead and buy a bottle of water, and he'd help me drink it if necessary.

Michael went around the back of the gas station, and wound around, keeping me on the edge of my seat. . . and then turned back towards the interstate. I didn't completely rule out the Madison airport, because there are other ways to get there (although by this point I pretty much had ruled out Door County) but I was starting to focus on other destinations (like Janesville).

We passed Madison without any fanfare, and soon we were headed into Illinois . . . and stayed with 90 instead of continuing south on 39, so we probably weren't headed to St. Louis . . . soon enough, we started seeing signs for O'Hare, and Michael got in the lane marked "O'Hare." (We also passed signs for I-80 towards Joliet, and I had to text Karen to tell her that, phew, we did not seem to be headed to prison for our honeymoon - much to Brian's disappointment.)

Suddenly, the O'Hare exit was upon us, and Michael switched lanes! Apparently we weren't headed to the airport after all. At this point Michael agreed that no, we were not going to the airport. (Which was okay with me at this point because it was getting late - around 3:00 - and I was sort of getting worried - if we were going to fly somewhere, and we go to the airport an hour or two before our flight, and if our flight were longer than an hour or two, we were going to be getting there pretty late . . .)

Michael took the next exit, and asked me to help him look for the Radisson. I should know to trust my husband by this point. He'd booked a room for the night. In the morning, the mystery would start all over again!

Our "honeymoon suite" turned out to be a regular room with a king sized bed, but the room was clean and there were complimentary bottles of water for us, so we were satisfied. While we were checking in, Michael confirmed the arrangements to leave our car at the hotel for the trip. The lady behind the desk wanted to know if our flight (I pretended not to hear) was going to be international or domestic. Michael paused for a moment, and I walked to the other side of the lobby so they could talk in private. (Later, Michael told me he never answered the question, because she didn't actually have to know - she just wanted to tell him how to catch a shuttle back to the hotel from the terminal, so she told him how do do either.)

Shortly after we arrived, we headed back to the car - Michael said he'd made a dinner reservation, and then let me guess where we were going. How on earth was I supposed to know? Was it a chain? We'd had a nice dinner in Orlando at TGI Fridays 2 years ago . . . maybe that was it. We both love Ruby Tuesday's, but only get to go on rare occasions (Seeing TSO in Milwaukee, or while visiting our relatives in the -apolises). The other restaurants that are significant to us were kind of far away at that point (Ruby's in Madison, and La Tolteca in Portage) so we probably weren't headed there . . .

Then it occurred to me that we had enjoyed an awesome sushi dinner in Chicago during a Scrabble tournament in 2008. I suggested this to Michael, then immediately took it back, because while I don't know a lot about Chicago's geography, I figured that we were nowhere near that restaurant. But then I remembered asking Michael about a mysterious email from the director of that particular Scrabble tournament the other day . . . and Michael confirmed that we were going to Kansaku.

We ate way too much sushi, but it was a wonderful dinner!


At some point, Michael informed me, somewhat tentatively, that we would need to leave the hotel *very* early the next morning. Like 4:00 early. So we watched America's Got Talent and went to sleep early.

Michael was too excited to sleep much, but I slept pretty soundly. Not knowing has its advantages! We got on the airport shuttle (not a big surprise at this point) and headed for USA3000, which I had never heard of . . . but the driver took us to the international terminal (after dropping four soldiers off on their way home to Nebraska). . . so I guessed Indianapolis was out as a honeymoon destination . . .

Michael and I checked in together, but I held back while he confirmed the destination of our flight with at the counter. He had my passport, so I just waited until it was time for the moment of truth - and breathed a sigh of relief when my checked luggage turned out to have about 4 pounds to spare. (Michael's only had 2 or 3 - we had thought mine was heavier so I loaded him down with stuff like my beach towel and my gardening hat . . . which I was not certain I'd actually need . . .)

Our flight seemed to be the only one in the international terminal at the unholy hour of 4:30 in the morning. I wasn't sure how much time we had, so I declined breakfast at Miss Nonalds (McDonalds) outside of the security check-in, mostly for timing reasons, but also because one of the books in my carry-on bag was Fast Food Nation. And then there are all of Mr. Pollan's rules . . . #20 "It's not food if it arrived through the window of your car" and #21 "It's not food if it's called by the same name in every language. (Think Big Mack, Cheetos, or Pringles.) Not that I thought my chances of finding real food were any better on the other side of security, but still . . .

Annoyingly, all of the restaurants on the far side of security were closed, although a woman was opening a stand with trail mix, sandwiches, and soft drinks. We went to the gate first, just to make sure everything was in order. (I behaved myself and didn't peek at the computer monitors announcing upcoming departures, and we chose seats with our backs to the gate, so I couldn't see where we were going.)

We ended up visiting the food stand for a vanilla frappuccino (which certainly breaks at least three rules that I can think of off the top of my head) a yogurt, and a bag of trail mix (slightly better choices). Then we waited. I had suggested to Michael that we not sit by any young children, because they would likely be talking about the upcoming trip. We sat for at least an hour without anyone mentioning our destination, but suddenly a large group of very late passengers arrived (the people sitting behind us had been stressing out about the group's whereabouts for at least half an hour) with several young kids. They ate donuts with their aunt and before we knew it, the adults started asking the kids about Mexico. The first time could have been random but after the next two or three mentions of Mexico, I figured it must be our destination.

Amazingly, the airline employees made at least two announcements over the loud speaker for our flight - mentioning the flight number but not its destination. I couldn't decide whether I wanted them to page Passenger X for Flight 305 to Our Destination or not, but they didn't, so what could I do?

Finally, it was time to board . . . and they announced that our flight was going to Cancun.

Here are a few pictures of the trip :) (I apologize for the goofy spacing.)

One of the pools at our resort.


Some shots of our room - we had two balconies, one of which had a jacuzzi.



Me with my awesome honeymoon planner :)

The view from our jacuzzi balcony.



Special "Luna del Miel" fruit tray.


Yummy food!






Silly pictures.


Fun entertainment.



Wildlife!



The Caribbean Sea!





Side trip to Chichen Itza on the Summer Solstice.


The sun rose between the two columns of pillars several hours before we arrived - that only happens twice a year.


(it was probably over 100 degrees, according to our tour guide . . . I was glad I brought my hat after all!)


The trip included a buffet lunch and entertainment.

In addition to man-made wonders, there were many natural wonders at Chichen Itza including a 200 year old tree, and a famous cenote, or sink-hole.



We had a wonderful trip. The best part was the company, but the second-best part is a tie between an amazing destination and not having to worry about the details myself!

Update!

So the governor vetoed the raw milk bill . . . (another win for corporate agriculture).

In other food news, my mom and I made four batches of strawberry freezer jam today! I thought about taking a picture, but didn't have my camera, and was too lazy to borrow one and then email it to myself . . . but we may make some more next week, so I'll be sure to take a picture then!

Our CSA started last week, and Michael and I drove to the farm to pick up our produce . . . in a downpour! We got green garlic, lots of lettuce and spinach, oregano, and a basil plant. The next day I picked up some green onions and two quarts of strawberries.

With a handful of radishes from my garden (in my parents' yard) the vegetables and strawberries made awesome salads for a delicious dinner in Madison with friends on Friday night and a thrown-together-at-the-last-minute dinner with Michael's dad on Saturday. (Homemade croutons didn't hurt the salad either.)

Michael and I are trying to figure out our CSA pick-ups for the next two weeks, because we're going to be gone for most of the rest of the month. Later this week we head to Ohio for his cousin's graduation, then drive up to Indianapolis so that Michael can meet his new niece, and then we head home for two days before leaving for our honeymoon!

We kicked off summer yesterday (Michael had a half day at school) by hiking at Devil's Lake (sorry, it was a spur of the moment thing and we didn't take a camera) and watching Tomorrow Never Dies. We're planning a relaxing summer of honeymooning, camping, putting our feet up, and watching reality TV (America's Got Talent and Last Comic Standing).

I'll post pictures next time!

Update on the Raw Milk Legislation

Assembly Committee Approves Raw Milk Bill

March 30, 2010 11:03 a.m. |

A bill that would allow farmers to sell raw, unpasteurized milk directly to consumers has moved out of an Assembly committee.

The Rural Economic Development Committee approved the bill 8-1. The move clears the way for a vote in the full Assembly.

Under the measure, farmers who register with state agriculture officials could sell raw milk through the end of next year. Farmers would have to record each sale and test the milk for disease-causing microbes.

From Channel3000.com

Keeping Busy (With Adele Pictures!)

On January 21st I handed my "Student Teacher" badge to the secretary at Ripon High School and made the official transition from being a student to being . . . unemployed. I headed over to a bank to have my application for a teaching license notarized, went to Ripon College to hand in my paperwork, and presumably felt some kind of weight lift off my shoulders, except that I knew I was in for another six to eight-week wait while the Education Department at Ripon reviewed my paperwork, and the DPI reviewed my request for a license.

Instead of doing anything productive like applying for substitute teaching jobs, I spent the first day of the rest of my life driving to Indiana to celebrate my niece's second birthday. (I couldn't actually apply for substitute teaching jobs anyway, because in the current economy schools are only hiring actual certified teachers to sub, and I was waiting for a letter from the Ed Department stating that my license application was pending at the DPI and that Ripon College would vouch for me if an employer was willing to take their word for it.)

Eventually the letter arrived, but I'd already gotten busy with Buechner Tax Prep, which has managed to keep my head above water for the last three years. (It is a little bit annoying to work for your dad though - my last three paid jobs have put me under the direct supervision of my immediate family, which probably looks strange on job applications. As much as I don't mind doing taxes, and enjoyed working as a kindergarten assistant, it sure would be nice if someone not related to me would hire me for a change!)

In addition to trying to supplement my family's income, I've been having fun with new cookbooks. Yay for wedding gifts!

Good Food?

Here are some of the things I've made:


Chicken dinner - with a pasture-raised chicken from Jordanal Farms, real mashed potatoes, and my first try at making the gravy I grew up on.


Blueberry cream scones, which might make it unnecessary for me to ever visit another coffee shop again . . .
Michael and I had some friends over for steak from the local "chop shop" which, unfortunately, sells only commercially raised, corn-fed beef. I think this was probably the first time I'd ever made steak at all, and it turned out pretty good, except that the wild rice I wanted to try burned to a crisp. (I followed the instructions very carefully, including the mandate not to open the lid during the 50 minutes of simmering, and almost lost my good pan in the process. The next time I made the rice, I checked on it frequently, cut the cooking time in half, and managed to serve it for dinner, but still wasn't particularly wild about the results.)

Good Books

In addition to enjoying my kitchen, I have been doing a lot of reading. (Surprise, surprise.) I joined a book club at a local book store, and so far have read four books I would probably never have picked up otherwise. (Ella Minnow Pea, The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, The Help, and Water for Elephants.) A member of that book club mentioned a different book club - at the library - so I read The Gurnsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society, which I'd been hearing about - and which was also really good. I also re-read several of my old favorite Jane Austen novels, and after finding a long-lost box of favorite books from my childhood in a bedroom closet at my parents' house, I am on my way to re-reading all of the Anne of Green Gables books, and have already completed the Emily books by L.M. Montgomery. They're still good. Which is good, because I already sent a boxed set to Adele.

Good Food and Books

Over winter break, instead of spending my entire week-long vacation picking up nuggets of wisdom such as "being courageous is a high-quality fixation" from sophomore essays defining abstract terms, or pulling my hair out because seniors still can't figure out how to support their ideas about Edgar Allen Poe with quotations from the text, I read In Defense of Food by Michael Pollan - which I had been wanting to read since last summer, when I read Animal, Vegetable, Miracle by Barbara Kingsolver, especially since there was a controversy in Madison about whether Michael Pollan's revolutionary book about what constitutes "food" should have been distributed, free of charge, on the UW campus. I couldn't put the book down, and I haven't been able to stop thinking about food since then. Goodbye vanilla yogurt. Goodbye cereal. Goodbye cream of mushroom soup. Eventually I'll have to say goodbye to Jiff peanut butter, but we tend to stock up on that, so I still have a few jars of both creamy and crunchy. Some things are not so difficult to say goodbye to - for instance, growing up on my grandma's freezer jam, I've never been a big fan of store-bought jams and jellies. (No, I don't know what's in sure-jell, but I think it might pass Pollan's "great-grandmother" test.)

Intermission

Last week, I thought it would be a great time to go to Indiana to see the world's cutest tw0-year old. (The best thing about this eighth wonder of the world is that admission is totally free to aunts and grandmothers, as long as we're willing to put up with the seven-hour drive and the in-law.)
Showing "Untal Mital" that she loves fruit snacks as much as he does!
Walking Tuh-Tee with Aunt Dee-Dee and MeMaw.
Adele is very good at playing I-Spy, and loves to show off her yellow daffodil.

She's less good at choosing appropriate clothing for the weather - we had trouble convincing her that it was too cold for short sleeves! (At least we got rid of the light purple pants "matched" with the red-and-white striped shirt.)
In spite of my recipe for excellent scones, I still love coffee-shop lattes - and I think it is really cute to take Adele to Starbucks. (I'll have to enjoy it while it lasts. I'm pretty sure I won't be shopping at Starbucks for much longer.) I like to say "ahh" after a sip of coffee, and Adele has been imitating this habit for several months now. This "ahh" was purely for the camera, though. She's a little ham!

Super Why is apparently one of Adele's favorite shows (but we didn't watch it with her so I know nothing about it). MeMaw fashioned a Super Why cape out of Adele's bumpy blankie and a clothespin.
Adele has a huge imagination. She got a Barbie tent for her birthday, but she realized that she could also make a tent out of a blanket and a chair. She called that her "chair tent." Then she took the blanket off of the chair, to find more places to build a tent. Too cute!
"No, No, Dee-Dee." The bumps go on the inside of the blanket. Good thing MeMaw was there to comfort Adele after I mistakenly covered her up the wrong way when she was trying to wake up from a long nap!
More "Ah-Busss" after the bookshop on Saturday, before MeMaw and Aunt DeeDee headed out. This time Adele picked "to-tat milt" instead of strawberry.

Preaching

Of course, by necessity, I missed two few and far-between opportunities for substitute teaching jobs while in Indiana, and delayed the processing of my application to substitute teach in Portage by a week, but the trip was worthwhile. In addition to playing with Adele for four days, we watched Food, Inc. My mom (who has been reading my ever-growing stack of books about the slow food movement) and I were pretty interested. Oddly, I'd picked up a library book for the trip, and since there is a long waiting list for the library's 53 copies of The Omnivore's Dilemma I picked up Eric Schlosser's Chew on This as a substitute.(And I packed Wisconsin cheese and sausage to eat in the car.) Food, Inc. was my first introduction to Eric Schlosser, and I though it was very good luck that I happened to have his book handy. I read it in less than 24 hours after watching Food, Inc. (Yay long naps!) Then, on Saturday, the girls ventured out to Mudsocks, a fun independent bookstore near Adele's house, and I picked up my very own copy of The Omnivore's Dilemma. Since I also picked up some Sandra Boynton books for the little kids I love, I decided to skip Food Rules for now. (The Omnivore's Dilemma is a much bigger book, so it promised to be more satisfying. Four days later, I'm still not finished (but I only got to read about five pages yesterday).

The Shopper's Dilemma

In Animal, Vegetable, Miracle Kingsolver essentially says that sometimes it is better not to buy organic food. For on thing, some people are organic farmers, but because of bureaucratic red tape they can't get the official label. For another thing, organic food - even sustainably grown organic food - may have been shipped thousands of miles to make it to my grocery store. So I had been feeling pretty decent about spending a few more cents to buy the Kemps milk - which says it is from Wisconsin - instead of the store brand. I didn't think it was worth checking out the organic milk options. Plus, I heard Michael Pollan say, on a radio program last week, that he tries to stay away from ultra-pasteurized milk products, even if they are organic. So yesterday I stood in the dairy section of our small-chain grocery store contemplating the options. I could buy IGA milk but wouldn't, because it probably came from California. (At least even that milk claimed to be rBGH free.) I could buy the Kemp's, knowing that the milk was rBGH free, and it was from Wisconsin cows. But then I looked at the organic milk because what I really wanted to drink was cow milk, not corn-milk. I was looking for grass-fed dairy cows. Pierce's had three different brands of organic milk. I wasn't planning to blog about it, so I didn't take any extensive notes on the brand names, prices, or product descriptions, but two of them looked kind of fishy to me. All three were ultra-pasteurized, so if I decided to go organic, I guess I'd have to compromise on the amount of processing that had gone into the finished product. (As I write, the a Wisconsin State Assembly committee is voting on a bill that would allow raw milk sales for a certain amount of time, under some serious restrictions - I am keeping my fingers crossed for this one!) Two of the cartons said nothing about the life of the cow, but promised to come from "family farms." This is what Michael Pollan calls the literary genre of "supermarket pastoral." (I think I may try to add this genre to my English curriculum.) When customers see phrases like "family farm" they think of a happy place where cows do what cows are supposed to do - much happily on hay and clover, with lots of lush green pastures surrounding a neat red farmhouse. In reality, this could be a place where cows are tethered to milking machines, fed a liquid diet of organic corn supplemented with organic animal fat. The third carton claims to come from grass-fed cows. The package is mostly green and contains what appears to be a photograph of cows in a pasture of short green grass. Their website is listed on the carton - www.grasspoint.com, and it has some information about their farming practices, but I'm starting to think that in order for farmers to raise animals and vegetables sustainably, there can't be a distributor in the middle. Grass Point can't say exactly which retailers sell their products, because that is at the discretion of the distributor. Maybe if this little bill working its way through the Wisconsin legislature becomes a law, I can head to the farm buy the milk directly from Chad at Grass Point. (Until then, pending Michael's taste test, I'll probably keep getting Grass Point milk from Pierce's.)
I also had to buy eggs for Easter, and ended up with Phil's cage-free eggs. (The accompanying Supermarket Pastoral text claims that these eggs were laid in nests. I'm more interested in what the hens are being fed . . .)
Before . . .
(we didn't have any Kemp's milk left in the fridge)
After . . .

For a while last fall I was buying Amish eggs, because I drove through Amish country every day. I always found it a little bit awkward to do business with the egg lady, because I wasn't sure just how such things were supposed to be done. The first time I stopped, there was another car taking up the entire driveway - and then a buggy had to get between my car and the other shopper's. The next time I actually asked the lady where their customers usually parked - she said around back, but I couldn't really tell what she was talking about. The next time, I parked behind another car, and a tiny little kid brought me my eggs. But then I discovered a faster way to get home, and stopped driving past this particular farm, even on nights when I left school before dark.

Choices

Open on my computer, in tabs next to Blogger, are sign-up forms for two CSAs. Michael and I will probably join a CSA this year. There are two relatively nearby which I am interested in. Their selection is smaller, one is not certified organic (but that doesn't bother me, because both offer opportunities to tour the farms and see how my food is being grown). There is a third option, a much larger CSA, which has its own farms, but also gets produce from around the world (or wherever they grow kiwi, pineapple, and guava) for their separate "fruit share." The reason I'm considering this CSA, in addition to the fact that some of our friends use this CSA, is that they also have coffee and cheese shares. The cheese is probably local. The coffee, of course, is not, although it is roasted in Wisconsin, the day before it is shipped.

As I continue to enlighten myself through about food, I feel a big civic and environmental responsibility in deciding where to buy my vegetables and meat this spring and summer. I could go to the farm market that will pop up sometime this spring in the Culver's parking lot. I like the man who mans the cash register. I could drive to local farmers' markets on various days of the week - but I don't always trust them. I could join a local CSA or I could join the large one that ships all the way to Minneapolis. (It is funny to think about food this way - it is very easy for Michael and me to go to Minneapolis for the weekend - it isn't all that far, but it certainly isn't local.) If I join a local CSA, I'll have the advantage of being able to walk around the farm and see how they grow their crops. But I'll never know what's coming in my weekly 0r bi-weekly box (choices, choices) and what if I can't figure out a good way to cook kohlrabi? And which one should I pick? Should I base my decision on cost? High or low? Proximity? I could get over my shyness of the Amish and drive to their farms this summer . . . but would I really be able to commit to that? Or would I find myself driving to the grocery store to pick up garlic or onions or tomatoes or basil because I "need" it to make tonight's dinner?

So many things to think about . . .

In addition to thinking too much about food [yesterday my mom and I headed to a local shop to check out their cheese, veggies, and meat - on our way out the door my dad called, "Katie won't be able to find anything to eat there" and he was pretty much right. Okay, so my mom bought me some "vegetarian" "Amish" chicken legs (I'm not sure this is all that great for the chickens, since they eat bugs and grubs and stuff . . .) and some blue cheese that looks promising, and some plums (from Chile), and I shared their Peruvian asparagus for lunch . . . but I'm not sure anything in the store could have withstood Michael Pollan's critical eye] I've been trying to do a little scrapbooking between tax returns.

Scrapbooking

My mom whips up pages of Adele in seconds (and in about an hour yesterday whipped up a substantial portion of a baby quilt for Anna Kate) but making my wedding scrapbook has become quite the process. (More overthinking, probably.) Should I put in, for example, the receipt from the Tux rental place? The business card of our minister? Or should I stick to pictures? Can I even find all the pictures I know were taken? I've glued down four pages, and have about four more "in the works" right now . . .

Picture of a scrapbook page with pictures of making place cards . . . and my scrapbooking mess!

Almost-finished Goody Bags page
Making the programs page, and more of my scrapbooking mess!


I'm trying to make a comparison between Cinderella's magical pumpkin carriage, my Princess day, and our limo . . . I thought this pumpkin paper was perfect, but the page still needs a little bibbity-bobbity-boo.

A little bit of procrastination . . . a little reflection

In law school I used to write posts on Frodo's Dogster page when I was supposed to be studying for finals. Frodo is over rainbow bridge now, and Oliver isn't the literary type (he's more of a fluff-head), but fortunately I have my own blog for procrastination.

It's not exactly finals, but this is a hectic time of year for student teachers. I had my last college class last week, but didn't quite manage to get my homework completed over my too-short winter break. (I turned my Teacher Work Sample in today.) I had a rough week at school last week; I was battling a cold in my throat and lungs, the more hoarse my voice and the more plugged my ears, the louder my students seemed to talk, and the more I struggled to get my classroom under control. I wasn't a very happy camper. But at the end of a long day on Friday, Michael took me out for dinner, and I reflected back on the week. I realized that while I had had a very rough week, all of the students in my classes are good kids. There isn't a single kid who I teach at Ripon High School who is not a good person. Sure, they're a little louder than I'd like sometimes, but they are smart, kind, intelligent people, and I wish them all wonderful, happy lives.

Today, I asked one section of students to write a paragraph reflecting on a regret that they have had in their lives. We were about to read a play about regret, and I wanted to get their brain juices flowing.

The paragraphs I received astounded me. Sure, I got one smart-a$$ kid who wrote that he regretted coming to class today because this was the worst assignment ever. He assured me that at least three other students would write the same thing in their paragraphs. But they didn't. Every other student, out of a class of 26, reflected on something that they had done, and wished they could redo differently. Some students wrote what I expected to read - stories about trusting the wrong people, and friendships and romances gone awry.

Other students took this assignment to an entirely different level. I read about negative attitudes towards school that have now hurt students' opportunities to get college scholarships, run-ins with the law that led to community service and jail time, drug abuse that caused serious friendship troubles, and family troubles that began with a pair of young, innocent brothers playing in a cornfield, and ended with a scarred arm, a fatal accident, and an alcoholic father.

I am so moved by the fact that my students feel comfortable enough in my classroom to be completely honest with me on assignments like this. I tried to write a little motivational sentence or two at the bottom of each paragraph, encouraging my students to continue learning from their experiences, but what can you say to the student who thinks he caused his father to become an alcoholic because he followed his older brother into the field that day?