Working with elementary kids again really makes me remember what is so precious about them. I mean, they're adoring, actually cute (I don't have to pretend they are cute like I do with my 8th graders), sweet and many other things. However, they do come with some issues that 8th graders normally don't. (Note the use of the word normally, I use it loosely). The bulk of which involve the bathroom. Elementary kids for the most part have figured out the bathroom situation, but there are definitely slip ups.
At camp the kids use porta-pots. Delightful. I know...but what do you expect for a government run day camp that costs $100 for two weeks? There are two actual bathrooms with plumbing, but they are for adults only. Thank goodness. Kids are rough on bathrooms. Anyway, I thought I'd share some bathroom stories from years past.
Musical Feces:
Once at camp we were playing musical chairs. Packs 1 and 2 (6 and 7 year olds). The kids are going around, having a good old time when I start to notice a stench. I don't think a lot about it because kids also fart a lot. But at this point I also start to notice some mud on the chairs. Well. At the time I thought it was mud. More and more chairs are gaining mud, when I figure out that it probably isn't mud. Crap. Literally. However, at this point I have no way of knowing who the culprit is...and it's not like I can just scream "Alright kiddos, who took a dump in their pants and is smearing it all over the chairs like a monkey!?" So. I did what every good counselor does, I let the kids finish the game...when the poop stopped, I knew the kid who went out last was my pooper. Well. The chairs continued to get poopy until the very last. I did a little sniff test and as it would turn out, our winner also had a winner in their pants...which she promptly denied. Also. Her mom refused to bring the poor girl a change of clothes. Super nice.
I gotta go:
Camper: Umm. Miss Claire, when are we going up the hill?
Me: In about 5 minutes
Three minutes later
Camper: Umm. Miss Claire, when are we going up the hill?
Me: In about 5 minutes.
Camper: You said that a long time ago.
Me: Well. Sometimes you just have to go with the flow bud and it isn't time yet.
Camper: Well. I really gotta poop, so do you think we could hurry this process up?
Poop is not only limited to children for me. I've been pooped on by a bird three times to date:
Location 1: Freshman year - First band contest ever, waiting for awards...square in the middle of my hat. There were literally 200 people who noticed this before me and laughed.
Location 2: Also band, this time Junior year - Warming up for a football game, right on my jacket. I go see our uniform crew, they die laughing and proceed to call me the bird poop girl for the rest of my band career.
Location 3: Lecturing my campers on respect and listening to me when a bird dropped on right on my lap. Nice.
Well friends, that's all for today...hope I didn't gross you out too much,
Peace, Love and the Pot,
Claire
Tuesday, June 28, 2011
Tuesday, June 14, 2011
On Rescuing a Bird...
Well friends. Another summer of Camp Kearney has begun. That makes 5 years for those of you who are counting...I'm starting to feel like an old person compared to these young bucks they've hired this year.
So for the first two weeks I chose Pack 7. They are about 10 years old...mostly going into 5th grade. A little younger than I'm used to, but I'll be real, it's nice to have kids adore you for once. Today they argued over who got to be "me." AKA who got to wear my whistle, name tag and sun glasses. Go ahead kids, boost my ego a little more. Love it.
So today one of our activities is fishing. I hate fishing. Not the actual act of fishing, but fishing in this situation. It's hyper hot...ten year olds tangle lines...loosing bait...blah blah blah (in the words of my boss). Also. We don't have a lot of real bait...the lake is actually the city reservoir...it's super nasty....there are a million reasons it's about the worst activity ever.
So, after a while I guess my kids stopped believing me that their hooks were worm flavored (so I wouldn't have to refill them constantly) and they started to wander. It was at this point that they came across our friend Lucky. Now, you can guess how the story ends based on his name...so don't stress too much.
Bless Lucky's heart, he was tangled up in some fishing line...and maybe potentially ate a hook. We're not 100% sure. (When I say we I mean myself and my 11 kids all staring at this poor bird almost in tears, the kids, not the bird). So poor Lucky is struggling for life. He's flapping all over the place, cheeping and whatnot. I try several release tactics...but let's be real...I'm not touching the bird, he might have rabies. It's not working and I'm starting to become convinced that I'm going to have to teach my ten year olds about death and host a bird funeral.
I send some kids to get some scissors from the boat building...there are none...Lucky's still flappin'. So I send some kids all the way up the hill and bless their hearts they dead sprint all the way because they are so concerned about this bird. I stay with the remaining kids and try to reassure them that I'm sure Lucky didn't swallow a hook and it's just his little foot that's stuck. Lucky's still a flappin...
Finally the kids come back with scissors (blunt kid scissors for the record) and with 11 kids surrounding me and Lucky I work on setting him free. Unfortunately this is easier said than done because Lucky keeps flapping and is really not super eager for me to approach him. Finally Lucky realizes that I'm there to help (after I talked birdy to him for like 5 minutes) (pun FULLY intended). I cut the line and Lucky flies free...well...more like half flies half hobbles. Then he proceeds to sit in the mud for like 10 minutes while my kids sit and stare at him. I assure them that he's probably just taking a break and he'll fly away really soon... yeah...
So being the precious good Samaritans that they are, my kids decide that they better clean up all the fishing line from around the rest of the "lake" to prevent this from happening to any other poor little birdies. Seriously, these children are precious.
The rest of the day my kiddos were super nature conscious and cleaned up trash everywhere (and there is a lot...it's a public park after all...yesterday we found a syringe, or a "shot" as they called it...I've also found condoms on more than one occasion) and refused to kill bugs. Love their hearts...my psycho nature loving ways are rubbing off on them.
For the record, when our director found out about this whole scenario...he yelled at them for running with scissors...never mind the bird they saved...whatevs.
Then I saved our assistant director from being tackled by a kid who was trying to run and jump in the lake because we wouldn't let him keep the nasty hooks and bait he found in the trash can. Kid was about the hyperventilate...I considered getting a paper bag.
Then I ate 6 cheap government popsicles...my own personal form of crack...and called it a day. Now I'm sitting on my couch watching Wipe Out...I am OBSESSED with Wipe Out...whoever thought of this mess was a genius. Tomorrow is water day...which always promises a good time.
Peace, Love and Treehugging Ten Year Olds,
Claire
So for the first two weeks I chose Pack 7. They are about 10 years old...mostly going into 5th grade. A little younger than I'm used to, but I'll be real, it's nice to have kids adore you for once. Today they argued over who got to be "me." AKA who got to wear my whistle, name tag and sun glasses. Go ahead kids, boost my ego a little more. Love it.
So today one of our activities is fishing. I hate fishing. Not the actual act of fishing, but fishing in this situation. It's hyper hot...ten year olds tangle lines...loosing bait...blah blah blah (in the words of my boss). Also. We don't have a lot of real bait...the lake is actually the city reservoir...it's super nasty....there are a million reasons it's about the worst activity ever.
So, after a while I guess my kids stopped believing me that their hooks were worm flavored (so I wouldn't have to refill them constantly) and they started to wander. It was at this point that they came across our friend Lucky. Now, you can guess how the story ends based on his name...so don't stress too much.
Bless Lucky's heart, he was tangled up in some fishing line...and maybe potentially ate a hook. We're not 100% sure. (When I say we I mean myself and my 11 kids all staring at this poor bird almost in tears, the kids, not the bird). So poor Lucky is struggling for life. He's flapping all over the place, cheeping and whatnot. I try several release tactics...but let's be real...I'm not touching the bird, he might have rabies. It's not working and I'm starting to become convinced that I'm going to have to teach my ten year olds about death and host a bird funeral.
I send some kids to get some scissors from the boat building...there are none...Lucky's still flappin'. So I send some kids all the way up the hill and bless their hearts they dead sprint all the way because they are so concerned about this bird. I stay with the remaining kids and try to reassure them that I'm sure Lucky didn't swallow a hook and it's just his little foot that's stuck. Lucky's still a flappin...
Finally the kids come back with scissors (blunt kid scissors for the record) and with 11 kids surrounding me and Lucky I work on setting him free. Unfortunately this is easier said than done because Lucky keeps flapping and is really not super eager for me to approach him. Finally Lucky realizes that I'm there to help (after I talked birdy to him for like 5 minutes) (pun FULLY intended). I cut the line and Lucky flies free...well...more like half flies half hobbles. Then he proceeds to sit in the mud for like 10 minutes while my kids sit and stare at him. I assure them that he's probably just taking a break and he'll fly away really soon... yeah...
So being the precious good Samaritans that they are, my kids decide that they better clean up all the fishing line from around the rest of the "lake" to prevent this from happening to any other poor little birdies. Seriously, these children are precious.
The rest of the day my kiddos were super nature conscious and cleaned up trash everywhere (and there is a lot...it's a public park after all...yesterday we found a syringe, or a "shot" as they called it...I've also found condoms on more than one occasion) and refused to kill bugs. Love their hearts...my psycho nature loving ways are rubbing off on them.
For the record, when our director found out about this whole scenario...he yelled at them for running with scissors...never mind the bird they saved...whatevs.
Then I saved our assistant director from being tackled by a kid who was trying to run and jump in the lake because we wouldn't let him keep the nasty hooks and bait he found in the trash can. Kid was about the hyperventilate...I considered getting a paper bag.
Then I ate 6 cheap government popsicles...my own personal form of crack...and called it a day. Now I'm sitting on my couch watching Wipe Out...I am OBSESSED with Wipe Out...whoever thought of this mess was a genius. Tomorrow is water day...which always promises a good time.
Peace, Love and Treehugging Ten Year Olds,
Claire
Sunday, June 12, 2011
On Weddings and Dancing...
Well friends, now that I don't have any awesome stories to tell you about my students, I've decided to regale you with some ridiculous stories of my past. I know it's hard to believe, but I pretty much came out of the womb ridiculous.
Yesterday I attended the wedding of some friends that I used to work with at IncrediPet and yes, they did meet at IncrediPet because nothing is more romantic than uniform red polo shirts, sweating it up hauling dog food and cleaning up dog poo. Anyway, it was a wonderful wedding and a lot of fun, but it did bring back some very painful memories for yours truly and NO it was not the memory of the fact that I am almost 24 and no where close to having my own wedding...but thanks for bringing it up.
Why the world insists on partaking in dancing at weddings is beyond me. Seriously, before I went to college, I had no idea people danced at weddings, I thought you just ate food and talked....but, I also didn't know that weddings had color schemes until I was a senior in high school in a conversation that went something like this:
Girl: "I'm going to a wedding tonight where the colors are brown and creme...we'll see how that looks..."
Me: "Um..the colors?"
Girl: "Yes. The colors."
Me: "What do you mean the colors?"
Girl: "Like the colors they are using in their wedding..."
Me: "Oh."
The conversation ended there, but I was still clueless, I had to go home and ask my mom what the heck she was talking about. She explained, but I think it was a proud moment for her because it proved she definitely hadn't raised me to be a wedding focused girl.
Sorry about the tangent...anyway, I had no idea people danced at weddings...because they certainly don't in my family. I remember my father saying something along these lines about a distant cousins wedding:
"Oh my gosh...she's just trying to be ridiculous and rebellious, having dancing at her wedding...sheesh."
True story. Anyway, I definitely wasn't raised a dancer...in fact, I avoided prom for this very reason. There is just nothing appealing to me about standing in middle of the floor rubbing up against other people in tune to some inevitably bad music. Although granted at weddings it's almost (I say almost for a reason) never as trashy as that. However every wedding comes with the same excellent set of songs. Cupid Shuffle, Cha Cha Slide and my personal favorite the electric slide. Luckily for myself I have become a lot more coordinated over the years, but the electric slide has been a point of dissension in my past thanks to my eighth grade P.E. teacher Mrs. Smith. We once had an interaction that went something like this:
The entire class is electric sliding, myself included...or so I thought.
Mrs. Smith: "Claire! What are you doing??"
Me: "Um..the electric slide."
Mrs. Smith: "NO! That is not how you electric slide!" She then proceeded to show me how to do the electric slide. "Now you do it!"
I try.
Mrs. Smith: "CLAIRE YOU AREN'T EVEN TRYING!!!!!" I totally was...I was just that bad.
I think if it had been a few years earlier, I probably would have just sat down on the floor and started crying. I mean, my gosh woman...I know I'm not coordinated, that why my dad wouldn't let me play t-ball and why my mom never signed me up for dance class. I lacked hand to foot continuity...as in it took me FOREVER to learned to ride my tricycle because I would either steer or pedal, not both at the same time. I was destined to be a dork from the time I was three...it was a fact of life and I had accepted it...but my gosh woman...there's really no need to rub it in in front of the class. I had other skills and abilities in the way of whistling and reading Baby Sitter Club books...sheesh, you'd think I was without talent the way she talked.
Anyway, I went home and practiced the stupid electric slide for like 4 hours until I had it perfect, I went back the next day and beasted it....but I still got a B in gym that quarter for lack of effort. What the crap Mrs. Smith? What the crap.
Peace, Love and the teacher I never want to be,
Claire
Some Pictures to Supplement:
Yesterday I attended the wedding of some friends that I used to work with at IncrediPet and yes, they did meet at IncrediPet because nothing is more romantic than uniform red polo shirts, sweating it up hauling dog food and cleaning up dog poo. Anyway, it was a wonderful wedding and a lot of fun, but it did bring back some very painful memories for yours truly and NO it was not the memory of the fact that I am almost 24 and no where close to having my own wedding...but thanks for bringing it up.
Why the world insists on partaking in dancing at weddings is beyond me. Seriously, before I went to college, I had no idea people danced at weddings, I thought you just ate food and talked....but, I also didn't know that weddings had color schemes until I was a senior in high school in a conversation that went something like this:
Girl: "I'm going to a wedding tonight where the colors are brown and creme...we'll see how that looks..."
Me: "Um..the colors?"
Girl: "Yes. The colors."
Me: "What do you mean the colors?"
Girl: "Like the colors they are using in their wedding..."
Me: "Oh."
The conversation ended there, but I was still clueless, I had to go home and ask my mom what the heck she was talking about. She explained, but I think it was a proud moment for her because it proved she definitely hadn't raised me to be a wedding focused girl.
Sorry about the tangent...anyway, I had no idea people danced at weddings...because they certainly don't in my family. I remember my father saying something along these lines about a distant cousins wedding:
"Oh my gosh...she's just trying to be ridiculous and rebellious, having dancing at her wedding...sheesh."
True story. Anyway, I definitely wasn't raised a dancer...in fact, I avoided prom for this very reason. There is just nothing appealing to me about standing in middle of the floor rubbing up against other people in tune to some inevitably bad music. Although granted at weddings it's almost (I say almost for a reason) never as trashy as that. However every wedding comes with the same excellent set of songs. Cupid Shuffle, Cha Cha Slide and my personal favorite the electric slide. Luckily for myself I have become a lot more coordinated over the years, but the electric slide has been a point of dissension in my past thanks to my eighth grade P.E. teacher Mrs. Smith. We once had an interaction that went something like this:
The entire class is electric sliding, myself included...or so I thought.
Mrs. Smith: "Claire! What are you doing??"
Me: "Um..the electric slide."
Mrs. Smith: "NO! That is not how you electric slide!" She then proceeded to show me how to do the electric slide. "Now you do it!"
I try.
Mrs. Smith: "CLAIRE YOU AREN'T EVEN TRYING!!!!!" I totally was...I was just that bad.
I think if it had been a few years earlier, I probably would have just sat down on the floor and started crying. I mean, my gosh woman...I know I'm not coordinated, that why my dad wouldn't let me play t-ball and why my mom never signed me up for dance class. I lacked hand to foot continuity...as in it took me FOREVER to learned to ride my tricycle because I would either steer or pedal, not both at the same time. I was destined to be a dork from the time I was three...it was a fact of life and I had accepted it...but my gosh woman...there's really no need to rub it in in front of the class. I had other skills and abilities in the way of whistling and reading Baby Sitter Club books...sheesh, you'd think I was without talent the way she talked.
Anyway, I went home and practiced the stupid electric slide for like 4 hours until I had it perfect, I went back the next day and beasted it....but I still got a B in gym that quarter for lack of effort. What the crap Mrs. Smith? What the crap.
Peace, Love and the teacher I never want to be,
Claire
Some Pictures to Supplement:
Clearly very excited about the dance circle in standard Claire dance pose (clapping hands) at Laura and Grant's wedding...
Mocking my friend Sarah's dance moves...probably because I can't actually do it myself (and also because that is probably the most ridiculous dance I've ever seen) at Maggie and Ben's wedding...
Ah yeah. I forgot to mention The love train...made infinitely more awesome by 3D glasses.
Saturday, June 4, 2011
BOOKS.
I have come across another awkward encounter I have to share my thoughts on with you. The last time it was about how I hate hugging, this time it's entirely different, but awkward none the less.
So. I am an avid reader. I read a lot. I even have a Kindle (which is an obvious sign of a reader...duh). BUT. Just because I read a lot doesn't mean that I read a lot of good stuff. I mean...I am definitely not pool side reading Machiavelli's Prince or Plato's Republic...heck...I'm not even reading ANYTHING of literary merit...no Wuthering Heights, no A Farewell to Arms...none of that. That's not to say I haven't read it because I was forced in school...but now that I've graduated from college, I like to keep my literary ambitions on the lighter side. Which brings me to my point. I HATE when people ask me what I'm reading. It's almost inevitably embarrassing.
For instance, right now I am finishing up a wonderful novel by Sarah Dessen. It is called "What Happened to Goodbye." Nothing with such a title is worth anything in the book world, it is pure fluff and silliness. BUT. It's very enjoyable fluff and silliness. Before that it was "Something Borrowed" which I followed up with "Something Blue." I am not ashamed of my book choices, I rather like them...BUT sometimes I feel a little judged.
A story from my past to illustrate my point:
In college I was on the Spiritual Life Committee, which is a fancy way of saying that I coordinated chapel services and made sure everyone was where they needed to be for our trice-weekly chapel. However, before I started this job, we were meeting as a group for dinner when our campus pastor asked us the following question:
"Alright guys, in an effort to get to know one another, I want you to go around and say the title and give us a summary of a book you read this summer."
Now. The first thing that goes through my head is...oh thank goodness, I actually read a book this summer...However, the second thought was not as cheery as I thought...FRICK. I did read...but I chose to revisit Harry Potter for the 19th time...half of these people don't even believe it's biblically permissible to read Harry Potter.
We start around the table and I'm sitting at the end. As we go through people are saying things like, "The Screwtape Letters," "The Shack," "Mere Christianity," Heck. I think one person said that they had dedicated themselves to ONLY reading the Bible for the summer. I was starting to not feel so good about myself and what I was going to say to these people...I mean I could lie...but to a bunch of people on the Spiritual Life Committee?? I was seriously beginning to question my placement amongst these people.
However, as the person before me answered that they had read the complete commentaries on the book of Acts...it occurred to me that I had read ONE additional book to Harry Potter. This is what I said:
"This summer I actually read a book called "Pledged" which detailed the lives of sorority sisters at a major university. I thought that since our school doesn't have sororities, this would be a good way to get to know the inner workings of them, so I can better relate to these people in the future."
Most bogus words I have ever spoken. It definitely still would have sounded better if I had decided to spend more time reading books that would actually teach me something...but I thought I did a pretty darn good job of pulling it off like I actually have a brain.
SO. Maybe it's because of this that I'm so sensitive to the question, but I am always self conscious about what I am reading. Oh well.
Peace, Love and Sorority Sisters,
Claire
So. I am an avid reader. I read a lot. I even have a Kindle (which is an obvious sign of a reader...duh). BUT. Just because I read a lot doesn't mean that I read a lot of good stuff. I mean...I am definitely not pool side reading Machiavelli's Prince or Plato's Republic...heck...I'm not even reading ANYTHING of literary merit...no Wuthering Heights, no A Farewell to Arms...none of that. That's not to say I haven't read it because I was forced in school...but now that I've graduated from college, I like to keep my literary ambitions on the lighter side. Which brings me to my point. I HATE when people ask me what I'm reading. It's almost inevitably embarrassing.
For instance, right now I am finishing up a wonderful novel by Sarah Dessen. It is called "What Happened to Goodbye." Nothing with such a title is worth anything in the book world, it is pure fluff and silliness. BUT. It's very enjoyable fluff and silliness. Before that it was "Something Borrowed" which I followed up with "Something Blue." I am not ashamed of my book choices, I rather like them...BUT sometimes I feel a little judged.
A story from my past to illustrate my point:
In college I was on the Spiritual Life Committee, which is a fancy way of saying that I coordinated chapel services and made sure everyone was where they needed to be for our trice-weekly chapel. However, before I started this job, we were meeting as a group for dinner when our campus pastor asked us the following question:
"Alright guys, in an effort to get to know one another, I want you to go around and say the title and give us a summary of a book you read this summer."
Now. The first thing that goes through my head is...oh thank goodness, I actually read a book this summer...However, the second thought was not as cheery as I thought...FRICK. I did read...but I chose to revisit Harry Potter for the 19th time...half of these people don't even believe it's biblically permissible to read Harry Potter.
We start around the table and I'm sitting at the end. As we go through people are saying things like, "The Screwtape Letters," "The Shack," "Mere Christianity," Heck. I think one person said that they had dedicated themselves to ONLY reading the Bible for the summer. I was starting to not feel so good about myself and what I was going to say to these people...I mean I could lie...but to a bunch of people on the Spiritual Life Committee?? I was seriously beginning to question my placement amongst these people.
However, as the person before me answered that they had read the complete commentaries on the book of Acts...it occurred to me that I had read ONE additional book to Harry Potter. This is what I said:
"This summer I actually read a book called "Pledged" which detailed the lives of sorority sisters at a major university. I thought that since our school doesn't have sororities, this would be a good way to get to know the inner workings of them, so I can better relate to these people in the future."
Most bogus words I have ever spoken. It definitely still would have sounded better if I had decided to spend more time reading books that would actually teach me something...but I thought I did a pretty darn good job of pulling it off like I actually have a brain.
SO. Maybe it's because of this that I'm so sensitive to the question, but I am always self conscious about what I am reading. Oh well.
Peace, Love and Sorority Sisters,
Claire
Wednesday, June 1, 2011
Notes on My Board
It's true. My first year of teaching is over. I should be elated. I'm not really. Don't get me wrong, I am very excited for the summer. However, I am seriously sad to see these kids go! I came home and ate ice cream on my couch today. It could be because that's about the only food in my house...but it sounds better to say it was because I was so depressed about the end of the school year.
The kids wrote on my board on the last day of school...I like to think it's because they love me so much...but it's probably just because they have board envy. I mean...what's better than using white board markers??
Here are some of them:
And then there was this one:
Oh well. Guess you can't win them all...
Peace, Love and SUMMERR!!
Claire
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