We're off to Chicago today. We're going for the main purpose of Cubs opening day on Monday, but we'll also get so see some friends along the way. I'm going to brunch with Chris' family tomorrow for Easter, and Stein will be going to the Blackhawks/Red Wings game. Then Monday Chris and I will practice our now 12-year-old or so tradition of going to Yaksie's at 6 am for WXRT's opening day broadcast. Friends will come and go to visit throughout the day. Chris and I will head to the game in the afternoon (and according to the forecast, freeze our butts off).
Stein asked me the other day if I thought the Easter Bunny would find me in Chicago. Without blinking an eye, I said, "Oh yes, he will. He always knows where I am."
Have a great weekend, everyone! Enjoy your celebrations.
Saturday, April 11, 2009
Thursday, April 9, 2009
When Did This All Happen?
I stole this article from my friend Lisa of Lather, Rinse, and Repeat. Not only did it catch my eye because I too was a girl who collected stickers and loved the puffy ones, but also because I see this sad state of affairs with the kids I teach. I know our school is not isolated in this either. I hear this from parents all of the time. Their kids just have too much stuff.
As I recall, I lived for the days that my school papers were returned to me with stickers. Then I would carefully peel the sticker off, and place it into my sticker album where it would be admired by my friends and me. Yes, I had a sticker album. And maybe still do, if I look deep enough in some boxes in the basement.
At the risk of sounding like an old woman, I feel like we cherished our toys a lot more than kids do today. On Christmas we received what we thought was an abundance of toys - 4-5 things, plus our stocking stuffers. Those toys lasted until our birthday, when we would receive 4-5 more things. If a new toy came out, and we had to wait a long time until Christmas or our birthday, we hoped that one of our neighbors would get it so that we could play with it. Sure, we shouted and argued every time a commercial came on with something we just had to have, but my mom always made the smart decision to ignore us.
At school, I have a prize chest for one of the classes. This was the only thing that worked at the start of school when I was trying to gain control of this naughty class. In the prize chest are all kinds of pencils, pens, erasers, and gel pens in all kinds of colors and designs. In my mind, this is the perfect prize chest. If one of my teachers presented this to me in second grade, I would've thought that I just got the last golden ticket into the school supply factory. (Granted, I am a supply freak, you know this already.)
But the reaction that I get from these kids is disconcerting. They already have a sense of entitlement. In second grade. When they qualify for a prize, they pull something out of the chest, turn around without saying anything, and go on their merry way. The prize is usually left on a random library shelf or beside a computer in the lab. It just isn't important to them in their worlds filled with the clutter of so many toys.
What ever happened to crafts made out of recycled bits of stuff around the house? Why do we feel the need to fill our kids' lives with more clutter? And when did this sense of entitlement creep into the minds of kids? Where did thank yous go?
Raise the Price of Toys
Pamela Paul, Huffington Post 2008-04-30
If you’re a woman of a certain age — not that old actually — in your thirties, you’ll remember the puffy sticker. You will remember, as I do, those moments during school recess when you and your fellow second-graders took out your sticker albums to show off and trade goods. And you will remember the supreme worth of the puffy sticker — held in esteem above all other stickers — glitter, fuzzy, even those shiny, almost vinyl-like stickers you’d get in the 25 cent gumball machine, often emblazoned with “Grease” or “AC/DC.” The glory of the puffy Hello Kitty!
You’ll remember the days when it was a huge deal to buy a new sticker at the stationary store. How the sales person had to be summoned to cut off a purchased sticker from one of the display rolls so that you could take home your prize. Stickers back then cost a dime or a quarter, no small sum, especially if like me, your allowance was 10 cents a week. (Yes, I’m in my thirties — not my sixties!) Children once “made do” with allowances of less than a dollar.
And so, like me, you were probably initially thrilled when you saw how the price of a sticker has plummeted since our days of deprivation. Today, a mega made-in-China book of stickers sells for $6.99 at the local CVS and comes packed with over 100 pages of glossy stickers. 700 in all! as the cover burst blares. Naturally, I scooped one up for my then three-year-old daughter.
But here’s what happened. Beatrice had too many stickers. WAY too many stickers. She had so many stickers she didn’t know what to do. Rather than care for and treasure them the way I did , she wantonly stuck them on shoes, jeans, furniture, walls and the stroller. She stuck them on me and on her baby brother. The end result is that she couldn’t care less about stickers. They are meaningless.
In our abundance, something has been lost.
The average child in America gets seventy new toys a year, and the United States, with 4 percent of the world’s children, consumes 40 percent of the world’s toys. This is doing our children no good. Rather than bulldozing their way through dozens of one-note, breakable, and possibly harmful toys, children benefit from repetitive use of old favorites, finding new ways to play with them as their minds mature and expand.
So many of us lament the fact that elementary, high school and even college students today seem creatively bankrupt, bereft of problem-solving skills, and completely lacking resourcefulness. Is it any surprise when we cater to them from infancy with a barrage of cheap toys. That they treat their playthings carelessly, fail to value material goods, and become indifferent to waste? And that they then complain of boredom as they get older?
Kids would be a lot better off getting five new toys a year and playing with them 50 different ways. The best toys, after all, are the ones that look most “boring” from the outside. A good rule of thumb is that toys should be 10% toy, 90% child. It’s what a child puts into a toy that counts. Take plain wooden blocks. At two months, a baby chews on the block and learns what wood tastes and feels like. At six months, he learns to throw the block and at ten months, he bangs them together. By age four, he is building castles and bridges.
Toys are so cheap that it’s hard to rationalize not buying them. But perhaps we need to raise the price of toys so that parents and children learn to value them again.
In the meantime, get rid of the toys — or better yet, give them away. Cut down on the useless child rearing paraphernalia. You’ll be giving your child a lot more.
As I recall, I lived for the days that my school papers were returned to me with stickers. Then I would carefully peel the sticker off, and place it into my sticker album where it would be admired by my friends and me. Yes, I had a sticker album. And maybe still do, if I look deep enough in some boxes in the basement.
At the risk of sounding like an old woman, I feel like we cherished our toys a lot more than kids do today. On Christmas we received what we thought was an abundance of toys - 4-5 things, plus our stocking stuffers. Those toys lasted until our birthday, when we would receive 4-5 more things. If a new toy came out, and we had to wait a long time until Christmas or our birthday, we hoped that one of our neighbors would get it so that we could play with it. Sure, we shouted and argued every time a commercial came on with something we just had to have, but my mom always made the smart decision to ignore us.
At school, I have a prize chest for one of the classes. This was the only thing that worked at the start of school when I was trying to gain control of this naughty class. In the prize chest are all kinds of pencils, pens, erasers, and gel pens in all kinds of colors and designs. In my mind, this is the perfect prize chest. If one of my teachers presented this to me in second grade, I would've thought that I just got the last golden ticket into the school supply factory. (Granted, I am a supply freak, you know this already.)
But the reaction that I get from these kids is disconcerting. They already have a sense of entitlement. In second grade. When they qualify for a prize, they pull something out of the chest, turn around without saying anything, and go on their merry way. The prize is usually left on a random library shelf or beside a computer in the lab. It just isn't important to them in their worlds filled with the clutter of so many toys.
What ever happened to crafts made out of recycled bits of stuff around the house? Why do we feel the need to fill our kids' lives with more clutter? And when did this sense of entitlement creep into the minds of kids? Where did thank yous go?
Raise the Price of Toys
Pamela Paul, Huffington Post 2008-04-30
If you’re a woman of a certain age — not that old actually — in your thirties, you’ll remember the puffy sticker. You will remember, as I do, those moments during school recess when you and your fellow second-graders took out your sticker albums to show off and trade goods. And you will remember the supreme worth of the puffy sticker — held in esteem above all other stickers — glitter, fuzzy, even those shiny, almost vinyl-like stickers you’d get in the 25 cent gumball machine, often emblazoned with “Grease” or “AC/DC.” The glory of the puffy Hello Kitty!
You’ll remember the days when it was a huge deal to buy a new sticker at the stationary store. How the sales person had to be summoned to cut off a purchased sticker from one of the display rolls so that you could take home your prize. Stickers back then cost a dime or a quarter, no small sum, especially if like me, your allowance was 10 cents a week. (Yes, I’m in my thirties — not my sixties!) Children once “made do” with allowances of less than a dollar.
And so, like me, you were probably initially thrilled when you saw how the price of a sticker has plummeted since our days of deprivation. Today, a mega made-in-China book of stickers sells for $6.99 at the local CVS and comes packed with over 100 pages of glossy stickers. 700 in all! as the cover burst blares. Naturally, I scooped one up for my then three-year-old daughter.
But here’s what happened. Beatrice had too many stickers. WAY too many stickers. She had so many stickers she didn’t know what to do. Rather than care for and treasure them the way I did , she wantonly stuck them on shoes, jeans, furniture, walls and the stroller. She stuck them on me and on her baby brother. The end result is that she couldn’t care less about stickers. They are meaningless.
In our abundance, something has been lost.
The average child in America gets seventy new toys a year, and the United States, with 4 percent of the world’s children, consumes 40 percent of the world’s toys. This is doing our children no good. Rather than bulldozing their way through dozens of one-note, breakable, and possibly harmful toys, children benefit from repetitive use of old favorites, finding new ways to play with them as their minds mature and expand.
So many of us lament the fact that elementary, high school and even college students today seem creatively bankrupt, bereft of problem-solving skills, and completely lacking resourcefulness. Is it any surprise when we cater to them from infancy with a barrage of cheap toys. That they treat their playthings carelessly, fail to value material goods, and become indifferent to waste? And that they then complain of boredom as they get older?
Kids would be a lot better off getting five new toys a year and playing with them 50 different ways. The best toys, after all, are the ones that look most “boring” from the outside. A good rule of thumb is that toys should be 10% toy, 90% child. It’s what a child puts into a toy that counts. Take plain wooden blocks. At two months, a baby chews on the block and learns what wood tastes and feels like. At six months, he learns to throw the block and at ten months, he bangs them together. By age four, he is building castles and bridges.
Toys are so cheap that it’s hard to rationalize not buying them. But perhaps we need to raise the price of toys so that parents and children learn to value them again.
In the meantime, get rid of the toys — or better yet, give them away. Cut down on the useless child rearing paraphernalia. You’ll be giving your child a lot more.
Wednesday, April 8, 2009
Oh, the Humanity
I was off last week as part of the many days that I have to take off. I did have to attend a computer training class last Friday, and my friends Matt and Mandi were there. Mandi spends some of her time in the office, so I asked her how the week of subs was going. I knew that the bulk of the days would be fine, since the long-term sub from last year was there, but I wondered about the other days. When I asked, she immediately said, "Well, I took the sub that was there on Monday off the sub list."
Now, let me explain. In order to be taken off the sub list, you really have to mess up. You make an off-handed remark to a student, you're off the list. You have no class management and require the principal to come in, you're off the list. Show up 5 minutes before the bell rings? Yep, you're off the list.
So I knew that what the sub did or did not do was pretty bad. Mandi went on to explain. First, she did not know how to turn on the computer. I agree, sometimes Macs can be a little tricky in how they're set-up, but I specifically spell out in my sub plans how to turn on the computer. As in, "When you're facing the computer, the power button is on the left side of the base". Mandi let her slide on that one, but the next series of events was unbelievable.
Apparently the former long-term sub was also subbing in another class in the building, so she came in to the library to ask the "new" sub if she had any questions. Here's how the conversation went:
Former Long-Term Sub (FLTS): Just checking in to see if you had any questions.
"New" Sub (NS): Uh, yes, I did. These books that need to be shelved - do they go in a particular place on the shelf?
FLTS: Yes, you see the spine of the book? There are letters and numbers on there that correspond with the specific location in the library.
NS: Oh. So these fiction books - they can go anywhere in the fiction section?
FLTS: No. There is one place and one place only for each book.
NS: Hmm.
FLTS: If you have any questions, you can just leave them here and I will shelf them tomorrow when I'm subbing.
Are you kidding me? Has this woman ever been in a library? Did she seriously think that all of the books are randomly put on the shelves? If so, do we spend hours looking for books anywhere in the library? I am still dumbfounded by this whole thing.
I get a little miffed when books are somewhat out of order (numerical or alphabetical) in a small section. I couldn't imagine the frustration that I would feel in a whole library that was mis-shelved.
What would Dewey say? Oh, I think he would take her off the list too.
Now, let me explain. In order to be taken off the sub list, you really have to mess up. You make an off-handed remark to a student, you're off the list. You have no class management and require the principal to come in, you're off the list. Show up 5 minutes before the bell rings? Yep, you're off the list.
So I knew that what the sub did or did not do was pretty bad. Mandi went on to explain. First, she did not know how to turn on the computer. I agree, sometimes Macs can be a little tricky in how they're set-up, but I specifically spell out in my sub plans how to turn on the computer. As in, "When you're facing the computer, the power button is on the left side of the base". Mandi let her slide on that one, but the next series of events was unbelievable.
Apparently the former long-term sub was also subbing in another class in the building, so she came in to the library to ask the "new" sub if she had any questions. Here's how the conversation went:
Former Long-Term Sub (FLTS): Just checking in to see if you had any questions.
"New" Sub (NS): Uh, yes, I did. These books that need to be shelved - do they go in a particular place on the shelf?
FLTS: Yes, you see the spine of the book? There are letters and numbers on there that correspond with the specific location in the library.
NS: Oh. So these fiction books - they can go anywhere in the fiction section?
FLTS: No. There is one place and one place only for each book.
NS: Hmm.
FLTS: If you have any questions, you can just leave them here and I will shelf them tomorrow when I'm subbing.
Are you kidding me? Has this woman ever been in a library? Did she seriously think that all of the books are randomly put on the shelves? If so, do we spend hours looking for books anywhere in the library? I am still dumbfounded by this whole thing.
I get a little miffed when books are somewhat out of order (numerical or alphabetical) in a small section. I couldn't imagine the frustration that I would feel in a whole library that was mis-shelved.
What would Dewey say? Oh, I think he would take her off the list too.
Tuesday, April 7, 2009
New Links
You may have noticed some new blog links on the right side. I'm excited to introduce you to Lather, Rinse, and Repeat, Mustache Robots, and What's Cooking?
Lather, Rinse, and Repeat is written by my friend Lisa who also went to Marquette. In fact, Lisa and I lived on the same floor freshman year. We lost touch after college, but through the power of Facebook, we're back in touch. Lisa has two kids and is about to move cross-country.
There's kind of the same background story for Mustache Robots. This blog is written by my friend Jeff who is another Marquette alum. Jeff didn't live on our floor freshman year (we lived in an all-girls dorm), but we did have a lot of friends in common. I have also been back in touch with him through Facebook. Jeff has two boys and some of his stories are classics.
My friend Kris, the author of What's Cooking? is a friend of mine from Einstein's. Kris was one of the first people I met when I started working for the company, and we have been on many adventures together. Some places for these adventures? Breckenridge, CO, Scottsdale, AZ, and Milwaukee, WI. Kris' blog is a cooking blog, so of course it's one I admire. She lives in Napa with her daughter and husband.
Lather, Rinse, and Repeat is written by my friend Lisa who also went to Marquette. In fact, Lisa and I lived on the same floor freshman year. We lost touch after college, but through the power of Facebook, we're back in touch. Lisa has two kids and is about to move cross-country.
There's kind of the same background story for Mustache Robots. This blog is written by my friend Jeff who is another Marquette alum. Jeff didn't live on our floor freshman year (we lived in an all-girls dorm), but we did have a lot of friends in common. I have also been back in touch with him through Facebook. Jeff has two boys and some of his stories are classics.
My friend Kris, the author of What's Cooking? is a friend of mine from Einstein's. Kris was one of the first people I met when I started working for the company, and we have been on many adventures together. Some places for these adventures? Breckenridge, CO, Scottsdale, AZ, and Milwaukee, WI. Kris' blog is a cooking blog, so of course it's one I admire. She lives in Napa with her daughter and husband.
Monday, April 6, 2009
Two Days
Yesterday:
Today:
These past two days have been quite contrasts of each other. Yesterday we colored Easter eggs with Eric and Mia. Every year when we do this, we notice how much they're growing up. It used to be that the activity would last about 20 minutes, throwing eggs in dye and then they were done. Now they spend a lot of time deciding on colors and techniques for coloring the eggs. Eric got into the basketball spirit and made an egg for each of the teams playing tonight.
Today:These past two days have been quite contrasts of each other. Yesterday we colored Easter eggs with Eric and Mia. Every year when we do this, we notice how much they're growing up. It used to be that the activity would last about 20 minutes, throwing eggs in dye and then they were done. Now they spend a lot of time deciding on colors and techniques for coloring the eggs. Eric got into the basketball spirit and made an egg for each of the teams playing tonight.And then last night a storm moved in. I got the call at 5:15 this morning that we had a snow day. A snow day in April? Okay! A snow day is a snow day, right? I think we really could've had school, since the snow is just a wet snow. You can tell in the picture that the streets and sidewalks are pretty clear.
Now just three more days until spring break begins. I can take it.
Saturday, April 4, 2009
Creature of Habit
Yet another thing that I blame on my Mom. And again, something that won't come as a surprise to her. Like most people, I am a creature of habit. Although, sometimes I think that my habits flirt with neuroses.
Growing up, we had many things that were done in an organized matter. I'm not surprised because trying to run a household with 7 people had to be organized. There really wasn't room for spontaneity, simply because there wasn't time. The schedule and menu for eating was pretty fixed. We knew that on Saturdays there would be french toast for breakfast, followed by a whirlwind of chores to be done. And on Sundays there would always be pancakes for breakfast. The Saturday menu could be thrown off occasionally by some cocoa wheats, and Sunday could be thrown off by a German pancake or scrambled eggs. But that was really rare.
In eating, one rule applied: never, and I mean never, was breakfast served for dinner. Dinner consisted of traditional dinner foods: spaghetti, tacos, chili, chicken, etc. Straying from that would send any of us into hysterics. My siblings tell the story of the time when my Mom was in the hospital having me, they had to go to a neighbor's for dinner. When the food was served, they looked down at plates of pancakes. Immediately, most of them burst into tears. After some counseling from our oldest sister, they agreed to be polite and eat some of the "dinner" and waited anxiously for my aunt to rescue them and take them to McDonald's.
The same rule goes for breakfast: dinner foods are never to be eaten for breakfast. Breakfast strictly consists of things that are listed on any diner's breakfast section of the menu. There's a reason why it has the title breakfast.
It was always interesting to realize that not every other family did the same thing we did. Soon, after spending many nights sleeping over at friends' houses, I started branching out into the forbidden territory. I realized that pizza wasn't so bad for breakfast when you were really hungry, and sometimes pancakes tasted a little different, but still good, when you had them for dinner.
Yet, even though I did experience things on the other side, I still remain true to my upbringing. Every weekday, with the exception of the days we're out of milk, I have oatmeal for breakfast. The lunches I bring to school contain the same things everyday: a turkey sandwich with mustard on wheat bread, a cheese stick, a V-8, and a piece of fruit. This isn't far from my high school lunches, which consisted of lunch meat on wheat bread, a juice box, and a piece of fruit. Sometimes this habit is a result of laziness, or rather that I don't want to make big decisions in the wee hours while getting ready for school.
And even though I'm married to a man who likes breakfast for dinner and vice verse, I still like my breakfast foods for breakfast and my dinner foods for dinner. I am my mother's daughter, after all, the product of the creature of habit who taught me well.
Growing up, we had many things that were done in an organized matter. I'm not surprised because trying to run a household with 7 people had to be organized. There really wasn't room for spontaneity, simply because there wasn't time. The schedule and menu for eating was pretty fixed. We knew that on Saturdays there would be french toast for breakfast, followed by a whirlwind of chores to be done. And on Sundays there would always be pancakes for breakfast. The Saturday menu could be thrown off occasionally by some cocoa wheats, and Sunday could be thrown off by a German pancake or scrambled eggs. But that was really rare.
In eating, one rule applied: never, and I mean never, was breakfast served for dinner. Dinner consisted of traditional dinner foods: spaghetti, tacos, chili, chicken, etc. Straying from that would send any of us into hysterics. My siblings tell the story of the time when my Mom was in the hospital having me, they had to go to a neighbor's for dinner. When the food was served, they looked down at plates of pancakes. Immediately, most of them burst into tears. After some counseling from our oldest sister, they agreed to be polite and eat some of the "dinner" and waited anxiously for my aunt to rescue them and take them to McDonald's.
The same rule goes for breakfast: dinner foods are never to be eaten for breakfast. Breakfast strictly consists of things that are listed on any diner's breakfast section of the menu. There's a reason why it has the title breakfast.
It was always interesting to realize that not every other family did the same thing we did. Soon, after spending many nights sleeping over at friends' houses, I started branching out into the forbidden territory. I realized that pizza wasn't so bad for breakfast when you were really hungry, and sometimes pancakes tasted a little different, but still good, when you had them for dinner.
Yet, even though I did experience things on the other side, I still remain true to my upbringing. Every weekday, with the exception of the days we're out of milk, I have oatmeal for breakfast. The lunches I bring to school contain the same things everyday: a turkey sandwich with mustard on wheat bread, a cheese stick, a V-8, and a piece of fruit. This isn't far from my high school lunches, which consisted of lunch meat on wheat bread, a juice box, and a piece of fruit. Sometimes this habit is a result of laziness, or rather that I don't want to make big decisions in the wee hours while getting ready for school.
And even though I'm married to a man who likes breakfast for dinner and vice verse, I still like my breakfast foods for breakfast and my dinner foods for dinner. I am my mother's daughter, after all, the product of the creature of habit who taught me well.
Wednesday, April 1, 2009
Ms. Heuman, This is for You
I told you in the last post that I need to start writing things down. I have a small list swirling around in my brain that I need to write down before I forget. My high school English teacher, Ms. Heuman, will be proud.
I am still in sort of a writing funk, which I hope ends soon. Writing to me is therapeutic in a way, so I guess I'm not in need of much therapy these days! But, before I forget, I will write down my list (which is in no particular order):
-In search of good Chinese food
-Books that are piling up
-Creature of habit
-Facebook findings
-Music
-Detroit
I am still in sort of a writing funk, which I hope ends soon. Writing to me is therapeutic in a way, so I guess I'm not in need of much therapy these days! But, before I forget, I will write down my list (which is in no particular order):
-In search of good Chinese food
-Books that are piling up
-Creature of habit
-Facebook findings
-Music
-Detroit
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