I've always threatened to write a story about my family because (1) I think they are so darned funny and (2) they are all crazy! I thought I'd post some of my bits and pieces here. If I ever win the lottery or become so independently wealthy that I can sit around all day and write, I'll try and finish the damn thing. I will warn you--my relatives have never met a four-letter word they didn't like! However for now, this will have to do...
The Hills are Alive
One summer, my cousin Lawrie made her dream trip, traveling to Vermont and the home of the VonTrapp family. Long had she dreamed of making the trek. Chaucer had his Canterbury pilgrimage; Lawrie had her Sound of Music dream. Much of our September cousin weekend that year was spent hearing about ‘the trip.’
“My God,” Aunt Ann said, opening a beer. “We drove for hours listening to that stupid soundtrack over and over. Finally, we get there and Lawrie flings open the door and starts spinning in the yard before she takes off skipping down some hill.”
“I thought the hill was in Austria,” I added.
“It was, but there was a hill there too. Tell her what daddy said,” Lawrie interjected laughing.
“He looks at me,” Ann continues, “and says, ‘Jesus Christ, Ann, can’t you get her back in the car. I’ve had about enough of this shit.’”
“It was great,” Lawrie beamed, “and look what I brought.” With a grand flourish, she produces the Sound of Music CD and pops it into the player.
And with that, cousin weekend history is made, a new tradition forged. We’ve replayed the songs over and over, each year adding more. Sometimes we don costumes (towels on our heads as we sing “How do we solve a problem like Maria” nun-style), sometimes we choreograph the numbers (during “The Lonely Goatherd” the aunts fall to their knees and pretend to be yodeling puppets, while the cousins are the VonTrapp children pulling the strings), sometimes we act out particular scenes (Lawrie as Maria singing “My Favorite Things” with a blanket over her lap while the rest of us gather around her like children frightened by a storm).
The tribute usually ends with our grand finale piece, “Do, Re, Mi.” There was some contention one year, however, over who got the “Do” part. Typically, it fell to Katie, but that year, Susan had made the long drive from North Carolina to attend our special weekend. There was some confusion in the initial line-up and Susan got the cherished role instead.
“What the hell was that about?” Katie complained the next morning.
“What?” I asked.
“Do, Re, Mi,” she answered shortly, clearly thinking that explained it all.
“Yeah?” I prodded.
“I’m always Do,” she added.
“But you weren’t Do last night,” I replied, still not cottoning on.
“That’s right,” she said, “Susan comes up here one time and takes Do. What the hell is that about? I’m always Do, alll-waaaaays,” she added, dragging out the last word.
“Well,” I replied, trying to be the peacemaker, “she did drive a long way.”
“Fuck that,” my cousin Mary Ryan interjected, clearly hung over.
“And you know what I got,” Katie continued, gaining momentum at this sudden show of support, “La. What the fuck is La? Nothing, nothing but a note to follow So. What can you do with that?”
“That is a rough one,” Lawrie conceded.
“Oh, yeah, Lawrie, like you gotta worry about that,” Mary Ryan said, “you’re always fucking Maria.”
“I’ve been to Vermont,” Lawrie replied, “I’ve run down the hill, for God’s sake.”
“The hill is in Austria, Lawrie,” I said.
“If I’m not Do next time, I’m not coming back,” Katie added, clearly not finished making her case. “New rule, nobody gets stuck with La more than once. La sucks.”
Good rule. We all agree.
Saturday, December 29, 2007
Teacherisms--something fun!
I've taught for sixteen years and it seems as each school year passes, there is one story that gets passed on and on and never fails to give those of us down in the trenches a laugh. I thought I'd share a few with you. Just for giggles. The names have been changed to protect the innocent (and not so innocent)!
Mrs. Ross stands before a class of ninth graders. She is about to begin her lesson when she notices several of the students are chewing gum, something that is against the classroom rules.
“Alright, folks,” she says, “I see you chewing gum. It’s decision time. Do you spit or do you swallow?”
* * *
Mr. Thompson, an agriculture teacher and his students are comparing recipes for making jerky. As they discover each of them has a unique technique, they discuss the possibility of holding a jerky competition.
Mr. Thompson, warming to the idea: “This would be great. Sort of like a chili cook-off. What should we call it?”
Little Johnny in back of the room: “How about a jerk-off?”
Mr. Thompson, attempting to regain control of the class: “Now, none of that. We have to look at this from a marketing stand point. If you called it that, who would come?”
Little Johnny: “Probably everybody.”
* * *
Student stands to present his book report in English class. Clearing his throat, he begins, “I read a book called The Three Muskateers and it was written by Alexander Dumbass (Dumas).”
* * *
Mrs. Sandy, an English teacher stands before an advanced placement group of seniors. Frustrated by their lack of response to her questions, she exasperatedly says, “Come on, you guys, show me your APness!”
Mrs. Ross stands before a class of ninth graders. She is about to begin her lesson when she notices several of the students are chewing gum, something that is against the classroom rules.
“Alright, folks,” she says, “I see you chewing gum. It’s decision time. Do you spit or do you swallow?”
* * *
Mr. Thompson, an agriculture teacher and his students are comparing recipes for making jerky. As they discover each of them has a unique technique, they discuss the possibility of holding a jerky competition.
Mr. Thompson, warming to the idea: “This would be great. Sort of like a chili cook-off. What should we call it?”
Little Johnny in back of the room: “How about a jerk-off?”
Mr. Thompson, attempting to regain control of the class: “Now, none of that. We have to look at this from a marketing stand point. If you called it that, who would come?”
Little Johnny: “Probably everybody.”
* * *
Student stands to present his book report in English class. Clearing his throat, he begins, “I read a book called The Three Muskateers and it was written by Alexander Dumbass (Dumas).”
* * *
Mrs. Sandy, an English teacher stands before an advanced placement group of seniors. Frustrated by their lack of response to her questions, she exasperatedly says, “Come on, you guys, show me your APness!”
Lessons in Forever
When I was fourteen, my mother gave me Judy Blume’s book, Forever. For those of you who have not read it, Forever is about a teen girl’s experience with first love and her ‘first time.’ My mother handed it to me at the beginning of summer, just before I was about to begin high school, with the comment, “We’ll talk about it when you’ve finished reading.”
Needless to say, to have my mother’s permission to read what many of my friends were passing around in brown paper bags and giggling over was extremely exciting. I read the entire book in only one day AND in broad daylight. No sooner had I closed the book, then my mother was there asking the question, “So what did you learn?”
My response was quick and simple. “I learned if you really love someone, it’s okay to have sex.”
“No,” my mother said, “You learned that you should wait until after marriage!”
“No,” I insisted, “That’s not what I learned at all.” The fight that ensued that afternoon was legend.
In hindsight, I believe the lesson I actually learned that day had very little to do with premarital sex. What I learned is this—the message we take from the books we read are as unique and individual as the people who read them. Reading is extremely personal; therefore the ideas and feelings evoked will vary from one reader to the next.
Let’s face it. To some people, Scarlet O’Hara was a strong, independent woman. To others, she was a selfish, spoiled brat.
Literature does not exist to teach all of us exactly the same thing. It exists to make us think, to help up grow, and to encourage us to continue to learn. I’m an avid reader and in my lifetime, I’ve read slews of books that have changed me, even if only in some miniscule way, and made me a better, more thoughtful person.
The Kite Runner taught me it is never too late to correct a wrong. The Memory Keeper’s Daughter proved the old adage no good ever comes from a lie. The Mermaid Chair made me want to go out and find a hunky monk (isn’t that the lesson you learned?) And, oh, about a thousand other books have touched my heart and mind and taught me lessons that have enhanced and changed my life.
So I’ll ask you the question—what did you learn from the last book you read?
Needless to say, to have my mother’s permission to read what many of my friends were passing around in brown paper bags and giggling over was extremely exciting. I read the entire book in only one day AND in broad daylight. No sooner had I closed the book, then my mother was there asking the question, “So what did you learn?”
My response was quick and simple. “I learned if you really love someone, it’s okay to have sex.”
“No,” my mother said, “You learned that you should wait until after marriage!”
“No,” I insisted, “That’s not what I learned at all.” The fight that ensued that afternoon was legend.
In hindsight, I believe the lesson I actually learned that day had very little to do with premarital sex. What I learned is this—the message we take from the books we read are as unique and individual as the people who read them. Reading is extremely personal; therefore the ideas and feelings evoked will vary from one reader to the next.
Let’s face it. To some people, Scarlet O’Hara was a strong, independent woman. To others, she was a selfish, spoiled brat.
Literature does not exist to teach all of us exactly the same thing. It exists to make us think, to help up grow, and to encourage us to continue to learn. I’m an avid reader and in my lifetime, I’ve read slews of books that have changed me, even if only in some miniscule way, and made me a better, more thoughtful person.
The Kite Runner taught me it is never too late to correct a wrong. The Memory Keeper’s Daughter proved the old adage no good ever comes from a lie. The Mermaid Chair made me want to go out and find a hunky monk (isn’t that the lesson you learned?) And, oh, about a thousand other books have touched my heart and mind and taught me lessons that have enhanced and changed my life.
So I’ll ask you the question—what did you learn from the last book you read?
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