Mathematics, Crocheting, and Saving the Earth

Math has never been my forte - not by choice but because I am just wired funny. It takes me twice as long to get a math concept as the normal human being, so I never thought I would have figured something out on my own that Mathematicians are also just figuring out.

I'm not calling myself a genius; I'm just a knitter who kept noticing that you can do some amazing things with yarn (usually not on purpose,) that were mind boggoling. Last Christmas, my sister-in-law was making a hat talking about making a twisted loop that neither has a beginning or an end. (Perhaps she could be so kind as to put the correct spelling for this type of loop as a comment...) I mentioned that there seemed to be all sorts of mathematical concepts that could be taught via knitting, and Mom mentioned how Geometry could be taught using quilting.

Now, I came across this TED video:



Maybe a theme of a school could be 'learning through the domestic arts.' I would love to teach there - I would at least get through my Christmas List faster

Annie Hoaky

I have finally learned what babies want: Mom and Dad in a close proximity at all times. Last weekend I got some movies from the library to help me stay put for a nap time or two, and she was thrilled. It's always fun to see the expression on the sweet librarians' faces after they see my choices. This week it was a Moosewood Cookbook, (why do I even try?) Triston and Isolade, a documentary on Kensey, and Annie Get Your Gun. So far, all that I have used so far has been Annie Get Your Gun.

My brothers never seemed to appreciate their humor while my sister owns every Beach Movie in existence, and I would like to say I have found a happy medium between the two opinions. I like Guys and Dolls. I own Kiss Me Kate. I respect West Side Story, I thoroughly enjoy Grease every now and then, but this movie was too much. I did not like how they portrayed Annie Oakley as a caricature of ignorance just "Doin' What Comes Naturally,' nor did I appreciate their Disney-esque portrayal of Native Americans with "I'm an Indian Now," but what bothered me more was how she kept throwing herself at Frank Butler, and he was just a prick. There is only one part in the movie that I was seriously proud of her and that was during the song, "Anything You Can Do I Can Do Better," which ironically was the bane of my existence for several months when it was used as the backdrop to a stupid laundry detergent commercial several years back.

Besides, who says "You Can't Get A Man With A Gun"? Not according to Sarah Palin.

Class Pets

I am so fortunate to be able to bring my dog to school, taking all need for a class pet away. All my attempts, usually involving fish, have turned disastrous, so for the animal kingdom, this is just as well. There is a certain risk you take when introducing an animal to a school environment - like the hamster that ate her young in Elementary school or the snake that was scared of mice in middle school; things do not always work out as planned.

The 2nd and 3rd grade teacher (I'll call her Mrs. Turtle,) has a class turtle in her room. While visiting her room, I commented that I would never get anything done in her room because I would be too fixated on the turtle.
She made a funny expression and said, "Yeah, especially when he starts humping his rock."
I did a double-take. "Does this happen often?"
"Only about three to four times a day."
Let me mention that Mrs. Turtle is not a crass woman - quite the opposite. She's about my mother's age, and would never be considered anything but prim and proper which makes this story so funny to me; not to mention that the rock was pretty turtle-like.
"And would you believe that one of my 3rd graders figured out what he was doing? He says to me, 'I think the turtle thinks his rock is a girl rock,' and I told him, 'No, turtles don't think about things like that.' I just knew I was going to get a call from his parents that night."
Later on, SOMEHOW this came up in one of my classes. (Something about confusing one thing for another.) My students were quite impressed, and later on one student called another student a 'perverted turtle', and it stuck. Now I knew that I was going to have to explain to Mrs. Turtle, just in case a bunch of Sophomores decided to come and see her turtle randomly, but she was not concerned.
"Oh, if they ever are student aids in my room, they will see it soon enough."
"Surely it isn't too obvious."
"Well, it wouldn't be if the rock didn't hit the glass and make such a racket that the entire class has to turn to see it."

Apparently, this first happened when she had taken the turtle home over the summer break and it woke her and her husband up in the middle of the night and they couldn't figure out what was going on. Finally, her husband made the discovery and returned to bed, pretty irate saying, "Would you believe it's that damn horny turtle humping his rock?"

Apparently, it's not just for toads anymore.

Little Kiddies...

It is no secret that I am not an Elementary Ed. I'm not going to pretend, the whole lack of personal space thing freaks me out and I have a strange feeling that I am trying to manage chaos instead of teach anybody anything of substance. I never knew how fortunate I had it teaching Freshmen and Sophomores until I realized that 1st graders don't necessarily know how to read. This week, however, I have 2nd graders. They are a lot more enjoyable, but there are some drawbacks. Today I left my knitting unattended, and by the time I came back to it, I noticed a little boy 'helped out' on the Christmas present I was making. It took me 5 minutes to figure out what he did and fix it.

On a similar note, my dog is not an Elementary Ed.'s dog either. Today we were walking to the office, as usual, and the 3rd graders were outside enjoying the weather eating their snack. She goes up to one of the kids she had never met before, took a bite out of the kid's sandwich, and ran off. The poor kid just looked confused. I felt awful! I went back to my classroom and popped her some pop corn.

Their innocence is a beautiful thing, though. I've got a kid who is thrilled about being a whale this Friday in a class play. I couldn't PAY a freshman to be a whale. (Is it worth switching to Elementary, though?)

(I keep wondering how my mother, sister, sister-in-law, et al do/did it.)

Cat Yodeling

In response to my brother's post, I wanted to post this. Mom, I wonder how Diana would take to yodeling/polka?

Oedipus, Complexed

This year, I think I finally cracked the code on teaching Oedipus... or just cracked. Either way, my students have finally reported that they enjoyed their reading this year. I'm used to shock, horror, revulsion, and boredom, so I tried to at least eliminate the last thing from the list this year, and I think it worked.

Let me preface this by saying that I had an a-ha moment my first year of teaching with the girl playing Jocasta. She was the most ghetto of them all, in a mother-hen kind of way. I routinely heard her raising one eyebrow, telling a friend "Oh girl," or "Mm-Hum." like she was thirty years older than she actually was, and a light bulb went off. This entire time I had seen Jocasta as a tragic queen - some little lady, lovely, and doting on her husband, but this presented problems with the words she would say, and I never could 'hear' her. With this girl reading the lines, she was more like a cougar, telling her kid husband, "Don't worry 'bout a thing, honey-child. Those prophets don't know nothin' noway." It was perfect.

So this year, I begin teaching Oedipus, and I realize Jocasta's character isn't alone - the prophet's name is Teiresius, and Oedipus' relationship with Creon mainly consists on thug one-up-man-ship and 'yo mama jokes (no pun intended.) I explained that to my students, telling them to reach into the play to see Sophocles' inner thug, and for the first time, their quiz scores went up. When Oedipus and Creon fought in Monday's reading, I described it as, "So Creon's like, 'What 'cho sayin' now?' and Oedipus is like, 'I know you did-ent!' and the kids got it - albeit, a little differently than how Sophocles would have wanted it.

Would Sophocles like the retelling of Oedipus? Probably no more than he likes Freud's interpretation, but I think he would maybe appreciate the dusting off of his work and making it accessible to a new audience I doubt he ever thought would read his play. Besides, most of us don't remember Greek Drama in a positive light, like one of my kids' mothers who sent word through her daughter to tell me that she really enjoyed Oedipus this year.
"But ___, how did your mother read it?"
"Well, I thought it would read better in the ghetto voices, so I gave them funny voices at home and Mom heard me. She heard "murder", so she listened in."

I really wish I could have heard her version of the blinding scene...

Ms. Lorax in the House

I still haven't made it to the doctor about my foot, but it seems to be getting better, especially since a student brought me a cane today. I don't think she actually thought I would use it, but I did, and it helped my foot out tremendously to keep my weight off of it.

Also, according to my students I looked like House. There are worse things in life...

Twisted Ankle Joy

I want to officially apologize to my mom and dad for calling them up at 10 o'clock at night, asking them what I should do about my foot. Yesterday I managed to twist my ankle (though my foot hurts much worse,) to the point where I had to ask them the dreaded question, "Do you think I should go to the emergency room?" Well, I didn't. Hubby was thinking we should go, but apart from the excruciating pain and slight swelling, I could not see anything else wrong with it.

This has, however, created new challenges with teaching Romeo and Juliet and Oedipus Rex today - not even mentioning the fact that 'oedipus' means clubbed foot and all, but my students come in and I am limping around collecting their homework. This morning I didn't know what to do, so I stuck a black slipper over my make-shift cast and wore a black shoe on the other foot. Unfortunately, my slipper has little flowers appliqued on top, which were a dead give-away, but I never claimed to be a fashion icon or anything.

All of this comes on the heals (no pun intended) of me breaking my little toe on the other foot a few weeks ago, and getting sick last weekend. Maybe the cosmos wants me to stay home tomorrow, I don't know. Hubby said last night while I was writhing in pain, blowing my nose, and nursing my baby, "Wow. Life sucks for you right now." which, if you know my husband, is an expression of extreme condolence.

Brussel-Sprout Soup

Nothing compares to being sick with an infant. Last weekend, I realized that more stuff could come out of my nose than should be humanly possible, and my daughter was there enjoying every moment of it. (How did you do it, Mom?) Anyway, Monday has come and gone and I am feeling much better, but it has been an ordeal.

The husband has not been a lot of help with the sickness because he has been building the studio by himself. The workers at least got it to a point where it is pretty weather sealed, so he has been attaching huge planks of hardy-plank to the side of the building by himself and the cunning use of shelving. This scares me to no end, but I can barely talk right now, much less help or tell him how dangerous it looks when he is perched on the ladder like that...

The best news that has come from this past week is my sister's vegetable soup recipe, which I followed like I follow pretty much every recipe I'm given - I don't. (Julia Child, I am not.) She tells me about this amazing recipe that called for brussel-sprouts and a bunch of other things, so when my throat started getting scratchy the next day, I run out and get the ingredients to get started and call her up to get directions.
"So what goes in first?"
"Start by sauteing the onions, peppers, and garlic..."
I don't know if she heard the pause in my voice, but I certainly did not buy peppers or garlic. I remembered the onion, but only after I left the store, and the hubby had to go back and buy one for the project.
"Sure, sure. What's next?"
"Go on ahead and get the chicken and the broth started boiling."
"Chicken? What if I didn't buy chicken?"
"What did you buy?"
"Crawfish."
"Um..."
"It was fresh from Louisiana... Eunice, I think."
"Uh, okay. Well, go on and start the broth boiling anyway."
"I did buy chicken broth."
She starts talking me through the rest of the recipe, but I'm thinking that I've already got this, and I stop listening.
"So, when do you add the carrots?"
"The carrots?"
"Yeah, don't you have carrots?"
"No, but I'm sure they will work fine, just add them with the brussel-sprouts."
"Oh. I don't think I heard you at all. What did you just say?"
My sister is so sweet, she actually walked me through the entire directions again, this time with my undivided attention.
"Ah crap. I just put the broth into the onions and celery." (Did I mention that I did remember celery?)
"Well, as long as the onions are brown, it will be fine..."
"But I didn't turn the onions on. I guess I could just strain it..."
"Yeah, or not, whatever..."
"What else did you say to add to the onions when they were sauteing?"
"Rice."
"Right. I have rice, but I also have a lot of potatoes. Should I have rice and potatoes?"
"That's a lot of starches."
"I know."
"Just put the potatoes in with the chicken to boil,"
"Or at least the broth,"
"Yeah, whatever, and leave out the rice..."
I think at this point it became obvious that I was not going to make my sister's soup after all. In fact, it's a miracle that what I got out of this was soup to begin with. I guess if you keep adding broth to something, it eventually becomes soup, but like her soup, it was surprisingly tasty for vegetable soup with brussel-sprouts.

Also, I'm really proud of myself. She told me before I got off the phone with her "Just throw in some frozen spinach at the end" I think as a joke, but surprise! I actually had frozen spinach! Maybe it was the spinach that made the soup so good and not the brussel-sprouts after all...