Life Lessons for Third Grade Girls

I spent the past two weeks substituting in a third grade classroom at the school I work at. My principal pulled me from my regular job (read: playing for three hours a day with the cutest children I've ever known) and asked me to fill in for a teacher who was traveling to England for her mother's funeral. Unfortunate for her, PERFECT for me. I haven't been a teacher in an actual classroom for over a year and I was incredibly nervous. Would I remember how to teach? Would I know how to do third grade math? Would the kids be completely confused as to why my name started with a "Miss" and not a "Mrs."?

Yes.

Yes.

YES. Always.

Third grade is exhausting. Girls are catty, boys are goofy, there are still criers but there are also texters. And swearers.

And drama queens:

"Miss Caldart, we need to go to the principal RIGHT NOW. Something horrible happened at recess." (Gasping, heaving sobs.)

"What happened? Tell me first and then I'll decide whether or not we're going to the principal."

"Jessica told Ryan she thought he was cute and he told EVERYONE."

"Lesson number one: Don't tell boys you like them unless you want them to tell their friends."

"Then Jessica followed him around for the rest of recess and he told her to GO AWAY."

I really didn't blame him.

Yikes...

I just saw the guy I went on an awkward date with wearing a jacket with a fur collar. Good call on politely declining a second date.

My Mom Joined Facebook

Here is a Facebook convo between my mom and my uncle's crazy Mother-in-Law:

(click to enlarge)

Restless

Ladies and Gentlemen...it's official. I am going back to school. Again.

Nearly one month to the day after the completion of my Masters of Education, I will be starting classes at SPU, working towards my Special Education endorsement. Apparently spare time was not really my cup of tea.

I'll be done in December, but that's not the fabulous part:

I already have THIRTEEN credits towards my endorsement (the program is 40 credits). As in, I only need to take TWENTY SEVEN credits. As in, three classes now, one in the spring, two this summer, and fifteen hours of student teaching. Ta-da!!

By the time I'm done with this, I think I'll be ready to get a big-girl job again.

Happy New Year!

New Years 2007

Chelsey and I took a taxi from Gasworks to Pioneer Square and met up with about 20 boys, where we charged our drinks to their tabs, got into strange taxis, and managed to keep our fake eyelashes on all night.

New Years 2008

Once again, with Chels in town, we joined ALL of our friends (seriously) at the aquarium. We found party hats in the bathroom, stole bottles from the bar, danced to Lady Gaga, and got home at 5am (after a series of unfortunate events).

New Years 2009

Rockband, pomegranate champagne, and gnocci with my best friend. (No pictures. We were way too busy rocking out to Muse, Journey, and unfortunately, Bob Dylan.)

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A side note. My New Years Resolution for 2010 is to be more positive. This past year was not my favorite year ever (read: unemployment, lack of funds, left my beloved Seattle, blah blah blah) and unfortunately, I whined my way through the past twelve months. NO MORE. :)

Bye bye 2009 -- thanks for the trip to Vegas to watch my dear friend get married, the amazing birthday at Disneyland, the fabulous concerts, the new favorite job, and the endless memories with family and friends. Cheers!

Robbing the Cradle

After spending some quality time with Laura and Susie today, it has become incredibly clear why I am still single: I am too old. Twenty-six may not seem old -- I have to actually THINK about how old I am now --but trust me, when the men (boys) I have crushes on are mostly years younger than me, it seems even older.

Zac Efron. Perfect hair, great smile, sweet abs. 

Twenty-two years old.

Taylor Lautner. Have you seen New Moon? 

SEVENTEEN years old.

Anthony Fedorov. Can sing, is kind of a nerd, would provide me with naturally blonde children. 

Twenty-four years old.

After watching (500) Days of Summer twice today, I've decided that my new, age-appropriate celebrity crush is Joseph Gordon-Levitt. He is darling, has great dimples, is not seven feet tall (it's a habit), and starred in one of my favorite movies: Angels in the Outfield.

Twenty-eight years old!!