The Saga of the Yearbook Staff T-Shirts, 2011-2012 Edition

When a new school year begins, the first order of business for any seriously journalistic, impressively professional, junior high yearbook staff is designing their staff t-shirts. And our seriously journalistic, impressively professional, junior high yearbook staff is no exception. We started designing our t-shirts in August.

By September, we had three possible designs.

We chose a design the first week in October, and then we "discussed" the color of t-shirt on which the design should be printed.

We "discussed" it for three weeks.

There were t-shirt color PowerPoint presentations, pro and con lists, secret ballots, public ballots, unbinding votes, binding votes, and arm wrestling tournaments.

And then we gave up on reaching a consensus and decided to have the t-shirts made in two colors.

Like I said, yearbook staff t-shirts are a serious business.

My first two years as yearbook advisor, we kept things simple and put our theme on the front of the shirts and nicknames on the back. Those were the years when I called the staffers my "Yearbook Jedi".


Last year, the staffers were "Yearbook Ninja"and, because ninja are so darn stealthy, the kidlets decided to live up to their title and keep the yearbook theme a secret.

So our staff shirts focused on their awesome ninja skills instead.


This year's staff didn't want to be Jedi or Ninja. They wanted to be minions.

Yearbook Minions.

I had never seen Despicable Me, the movie from whence the minions sprouted, so one of the staffers brought it in for us to watch while we tallied the yearbook favorites ballots.

Seeing the minions in action convinced me that it would be a good fit.



The movie minions are smart, hard-working, enthusiastic, spastic, and cute... in an awkward sort of way. Much like the yearbook minions, who are also smart, hard-working, enthusiastic, spastic, and cute... in an awkward sort of way.


Our next hurdle was coming up with the text to accompany the design. After several brainstorming sessions and many heads-down-on-the-desks-eyes-closed-secret-hand-raising-votes, they decided they wanted the camera holding minion shirt to read, "Don't Make Me Shoot You."


Gun references in school are almost always a bad idea, even if they are camera-related puns. So I asked the kids to come up with a non-violent alternative.


They put their heads together and came up with, "Don't make me shoot you... with my camera."
That didn't quite pass muster either, so they thought long and hard about it and came up with this...

Can you guess what it says?

"Don't make me shoot you with my camera", but in Swahili.
Turns out, Google Translate is a yearbook minion's best friend.

Minions Assemble! Now that our T-shirts have arrived, we have much work to do.

You know, like, take staff photos and then, maybe, make a yearbook?

Yesterday at School...

... the kidlets dyed my hair red.
Don't panic.

It's not like they ambushed me in the hallway as I came out of the faculty bathroom or anything. I knew it was coming.

And I wasn't alone.

Every year, our school participates in a very cool Christmas for the Troops thingy called Project Rudolph. The kids make ornaments, write letters, and decorate bags to send to service members who might not have anything else to open on Christmas morning.

Our school has been the top contributor to Project Rudolph for the last four or five years and, to make sure we stay that way, the faculty member in charge talked a bunch of staff members into providing some...motivation.

For ever 500 letters/ornaments/bags completed, a teacher got sprayed. The kidlets would have had to do something like 6,000 items to color me, so I wasn't too worried. I guess I shouldn't have underestimated the student body's desire to see their teachers in embarrassing situations.

Several staff members had their heads colored over the last two weeks. Then came the big, final push which resulted in six of us, including our wonderful principal, getting our hair colored in an assembly.

And our necks.

And our foreheads.

And our ears.

And, in my case, my earrings.

Our kidlets are great at patriotic do-gooding, but at aiming...not so much.

The kids were happy with the color choice, but red turned out to be a little less than fun for me.

I made the mistake of breathing during the 4 minute spray-a-thon, which meant that every time I have blown my nose in the last 36 hours, the resulting tissues looked like my brain was hemorrhaging something fierce.

And did I mention that, right after school with no time to clean up first, I had to go to a technology class at the high school with a bunch of other teachers from all over my district? It would have been pretty embarrassing if not for the lingering effects of the hair color spray fumes.

And at the end of the day, my bathtub looked like it could have been the stand-in for the one in the shower scene in Psycho.

Next year, I think I will request green.

Conferences and Concerts

At this time last week, I was busy stressing over parent/teacher conferences.

And a bunch of other things.

But mostly parent/teacher conferences.
Parent/teacher conferences freak me out, mostly due to the "parent" aspect. Parents scare me.

Parents scare me A LOT.

I know that it is a totally irrational fear. I can count the number of negative interactions that I have had with parents on one hand.

In fact, I could even lose a finger in a tragic paper-cutter accident and still have enough fingers left on which to count my actual negative parent interactions.

But I have heard stories.
Scary stories.
Terrifying stories.
Stories that involve yelling and screaming and threatening and pushing and throwing and lawyering and all sorts of other horrid things.

Veteran teachers tell angry-parent-stories the way that grizzled old one-legged Alaskan miners with eye patches tell stories about their encounters with grizzlies that resulted in the losses of their legs and eyes.

It shouldn't come as much of a surprise then that the tellings and retellings of these stories have left me, a relatively new and impressionable teacher, with deep emotional scars.

Thankfully this round of conferences turned out the same way that the majority of my other conferences have: 134 positive interactions with polite and/or kind parents/stepparents/grandparents/etc.

I was prepared, however for any outcome thanks to my carefully thought-out parent/teacher preparation pack.



And, of course, my pre-conference and post-conference secret weapon.

In other news, our junior high band concert was two days ago. The bands only have one real concert before our yearbook deadline, so we really needed to get photos. The fact that most of the yearbook staffers are in the bands made it kind of difficult for them to do photo duties though, so I ended up playing paparazzo that night.

I also had a hair cut scheduled for that afternoon, so I ended up going to the concert sporting a newly trimed fauxhawk. That made for a whole lot of fun kidlet interactions as I wandered around taking candids backstage. One of my favorite kidlet comments was, "Miss Haws! You wore your after school hair!"

And in case you were wondering...

School hair

After school hair

My other favorite kidlet comment came after one little musician eyeballed my taller and pointer than normal hair: Umm, Miss Haws? You know it's not that kind of concert, right?

But I didn't mind that it wasn't that kind of concert. I was just happy to be attending a school-related event that didn't necessitate the preemptive consumption of anti-nausea treatments.

I Know Aunts Aren't Suposed to Have Favorites...

...and I can honestly say that I love all eight of my wild and crazy niblets equally. But...

Every now and then, one (or two) of them makes a comment or pulls a stunt that makes me want to change my will to make that one nibet (or two niblets) the sole beneficiary of all my riches. Of course, before I can actually change my will (or write one for that matter) , another one of the little darlings will do or say something that I think is incredibly brilliant/sweet/hilarious.

It is a vicious cycle of brilliance, sweetness, and hilarity. Which is just as well because, not counting all of my books and my five pairs of Crocs, I don't have any riches to bequeath to anyone.

For example, two of my sister's boy jumped to the top of the most-favored-niblet list when they had their school pictures a few weeks ago. Their mother, bless her heart, takes pictures very seriously.

Deathly seriously.

She spent time and money to arrange stylish, photogenic, and somewhat coordinated outfits for all three older boys' school photos. She had everything in place for the photos she wanted.

And then Maxwell and Jonah decided that they didn't want to wear the stylish, photogenic, and somewhat coordinated outfits that their mama had planned.

Instead, they wanted to wear...
...their Burley T-shirts.

Now, I'm not sure if their insistence on wearing the shirts was the result of their love for me/my town, or their love of tormenting their mama.

Sure, I would like to think that they wore the shirts in honor of me/my town/my county fair. That is an awfully sweet thought.

But, as the person who invented the concept of tormenting their mama and then spent the first 16 years of my life turning it into an art form, I am equally happy with the idea that they chose those shirts to make her squawk.

But squawking or not, good mama that she is, she let the boys wear their t-shirts for the photos. So maybe she should get a mention in my eventually-to-be-written will.

I think I will leave her all of my Burley shirts. That way, she can coordinate with her boys.

Love ya Jenny!

The Light of the World Can Not Be Hid, But the World's Lights Have No Such Promise

Chapter One
1. And it came to pass in those days that there went out a decree from President Jones that all the auxiliaries should be trained.
2. And all auxiliary presidencies went to be trained, each into their own corner of the stake center.
3. But on the day before the training, the stake Relief Society Presidency arose and went up from their homes unto the stake center to prepare for the training which was to come.

4. And they did bring with them their lap tops, and their LCD projectors, and their CD players and their lighthouse nightlights.
5. Yea, many corded things did they bring that did require much electricity.
6. And after the many corded things were set up and plugged in, the Relief Society presidency did look around and behold their preparations and did declare them to be good.
7. And the presidency did leave the stake center, and all of their preparations, and did return unto their own homes.
8. And they did sleep well, firm in the knowledge that their preparations would be found acceptable on the morrow.
Chapter Two
1. Then, when the time of the training meeting was soon to be accomplished, did Mindy prepare to return to the stake center to help Sister Woodhouse with the final training preparations.
2. Yea, the previous evening’s preparations not-with-standing, there was still much to prepare.
3. But as Mindy was yet preparing to depart unto the stake center, her lights did cease to light, and flat iron did cease to iron. Even every electronic device did cease to function within Mindy’s house.
4. But Mindy did not panic. Instead, Mindy did leave her apartment and did travel to the stake center.
5. And as she drove, Mindy did say unto herself, “I will go and make my preparations for the meeting, for I know that the stake center shall have power, it being nearly six blocks hence.”
6. But when she did arrive at the stake center, she did see that it was dark. And she did exclaim unto herself, “Uh oh.”
7. Then did Mindy venture into the darkened stake center. And great was the darkness thereof.
8. And she did hear Sister Woodhouse calling out, for behold Sister Woodhouse had been in the gym when the darkness had descended. And it did take much time, yea even a great many minutes, for Sister Woodhouse to find her way out of the darkened gym and into the darkened hallways.
9. And Mindy and Sister Woodhouse did enter the almost-prepared Relief Society room. And they did sit near the window in the waning evening light and they did ponder the meaning of these things.

Chapter 3
1. And then Jolene and Sue did arrive, yea and the other stake auxiliary presidencies also came forth to attend the training.
2. And some of the presidencies were wise, and some were foolish.
3. They that were wise brought with them lanterns and flashlights and handouts... none of which required power.
4. But they that were not so wise took no flashlights with them, but instead they did bring powerpoints and LCD projectors. Yea, even CD players did they bring.
5. And at 6:30 p.m. there was a cry made, Behold, the Stake President cometh!
6. Then all those auxiliary presidencies rose to come out to meet him and to hear his counsel regarding the darkness and general lack of power that had befallen them.
7. And the wise presidencies turned on their lanterns and their flashlights. And Mindy said unto them, "Give me one of your flashlights, for I have none."
8. But the other presidencies answered saying, “Not so; lest there be not enough for us and you.”

9. And Mindy did ponder these things in her heart.

Chapter 4
1. And so all of the stake auxiliary presidencies, those with flashlights and those without, did rush out to meet the Stake President.
2. And they did cry unto him, “Behold the darkness!” And the Stake President did behold the darkness, but the darkness troubled him not.
3. For thus sayeth the Stake President, “Fear not, for the power shall return in due time, and if it doth not return the training will continue. For behold, did Moses need power to train the Israelite Relief Society? Did Alma, yea even Alma the Younger, require power to train the Nephite Young Women’s leaders? Did the pioneers need power to train the Primary Presidencies?
4. “I say unto you nay, nay, and nay. They did not need the power of man to accomplish the work of the Church. So shall we go forth as those stake leaders, for behold, the Power of the Spirit shall be with us.”
5. And so the Young Women presidency and the Primary presidency, and even the stake presidency did all prepare to teach by flashlight light.
6. But the Stake Relief Society sisters did remain troubled. For behold, their entire training presentation did hinge upon the use of power.

7. And so the minutes to the meeting did steadily depart and the ward auxiliary presidencies did steadily arrive.
8. And among those arriving was Sister Rasmussen, even the 1st Ward Relief Society president, and she did proclaim to Jolene, and to Sue, and to Mindy that Brother Rasmussen’s funeral home did yet have power.
9. Yeah, and she did invite the Relief Society to move their training into the funeral home.
10. But President Jones heard these things and shook his head. And he did say again, “Have I not told thee to cease from worry? Have faith. For behold, the power shall return again at 6:55, and even if it should not, ye shall train here, for the refreshments ye have prepared are here. And neither I nor the refreshments shall move.Therefore, take three deep breaths and prepare to train whether in darkness or in light.”
11. And the Relief Society Sisters did take deep breaths, and they did exercise their faith, yea, even to the procuring and plugging in of additional extension cords. But this is not all.
12. For they did also begin to arrange for a generator to be brought to the front of the stake center, that power cords might be brought through the window and into the Relief Society room.
13. For behold, there is power in faith, but there is also power in generators.
14. And then did the Relief Society Presidency, even Jolene and Sue, and Mindy, and their beloved Sister Woodhouse, they did enter into the darkened chapel.
15. And as President Jones did rise to adjust various flash lights upon the pulpit, the battery operated chapel clock did strike 6:55. And as the clock did strike 6:55, the power did return unto the stake center.
16. And as the power did return, the Stake President, even President Jones did turn to the auxiliary presidencies who were seated behind him on the stand. And he did smile at them as if to say, “Did I not tell you that it would be thus?” Chapter 5
1. And so the training of the auxiliary presidencies did commence, and there was much rejoicing. And after the Stake Presidents opening words, the Relief Society presidencies did gather together and did surround themselves with lights and with lap tops and with every kind of electric presentation technology available.

2. And as Mindy did sit at the lap top, surrounded by power cords that were indeed full of power, she did gaze upon the many light houses that adored the displays and the handouts and the invitations and the powerpoints. And she did think upon the theme that Sister Hobson had chosen for the meeting, “Let the Lower Lights be Burning.”
3. And Mindy did take a moment to enjoy the irony of the darkened training that had been centered upon lighting way for others, for great was the irony therein.
4. And Mindy did say unto herself, “Behold, there needs must be an important lesson to be learned from this, even a metaphor or analogy that will be of worth to us in days and years to come.
5. “And if not, at least it shall make for an entertaining blog post.”

Dance Dance Revolution

I have been working on a scriptural post about this week's electricity-challenged stake auxiliary training meeting. Something along the lines of...

1. And then the other stake auxiliary presidencies came forth to attend the training.
2. And some of the presidencies were wise, and some were foolish.
3. They that were wise brought with them lanterns and flashlights and handouts... none of which required power.
4. But they that were not so wise took no flashlights with them, but instead they did bring powerpoints and LCD projectors. Yea, even CD players did they bring.
5. And at 6:30 p.m. there was a cry made, Behold, the Stake President cometh!
6. Then all those auxiliary presidencies rose to come out to meet him and to hear his counsel regarding the darkness and general lack of power that had befallen them.
7. And the wise presidencies turned on their lanterns and their flashlights. And Mindy said unto them, Give me one of your flashlights, for I have none.
8. But the other presidencies answered saying, Not so; lest there be not enough for us and you.

At least, that is the direction I am heading in. Tune in this weekend for the final result.

But in the meantime, I thought I would share a few scenes from the first junior high dance of the school year. The theme? Hollywood Under the Stars.

This dance was originally scheduled for the middle of September, and the month-long delay only served to increase the kidlets' excitement.

I was a last minute addition to the chaperon squad and felt very lucky to pull this particular dance duty.

The first dance of the year is always the best attended and the most fun. Why? Well, it probably has something to do with the 7th graders having never attended a junior high dance. They are still so....hopeful. And then there is the fact that the 8th graders have had several months since their last dance as 7th graders, plenty of time to A)repress the memories or B)muster up a large amount of hope that being an 8th grader will make the experience a little less awkward.

Now, you couldn't pay me enough to go back to junior high as a student. The 7th and 8th grade years were sooooooooo not my favorites. But even though I never, ever want to BE a junior high kidlet ever, ever, ever again, I am pretty darn sure that they are the most awesome of creatures.

Sure, they are loud, spastic, overly-emotional, and sometimes a little smelly. But they are also smart and funny and brave and creative and a little smelly.

And when they go to school dances, the majority of them actually dance.

Today they jumped around and did the cha cha slide. There was hokey-pokeying, moonwalking, and shuffling. So much shuffling.

And there was (gasp!) slow dancing!

And then there was singing along. You might have mistaken the dance for a karaoke competition. The kidlets did their best Justin Bieber, Miley Cyrus, Bruno Mars, and Hot Chelle Rae impersonations.

But my favorite moment came when the DJ (aka the cheerleading advisor) cranked up the Journey and every single kidlet sang every single word of "Don't Stop Believing". Every. Single. Word. That is when I knew that, even if the state cuts my pay for a fourth time, I'm not going anywhere.

At least not until I finish learning the cha cha slide. And once I get that down, the kidlets promised to teach me how to dougie.

Now, if you will excuse me, I have to go learn the words to "Don't Stop Believing" so I won't lose any more of my street cred at the next dance.

Doors and Windows

I have an open-door classroom policy.

Well, to be honest, it is a 1-open-door, two-locked-door policy, but more on that later.

For the, most part, the kidlets are free to come and go as they please before school, during lunch (except for the weeks I have lunch duty) , and after school. Some come needing help with homework. A few who are still trying to find their place in the jr. high social structure come for a safe place to sit and read. But most of the kidelts just drop by to visit.

On any given morning I will hear a variety of play-by-play reenactments of the previous afternoon's sporting event, a few excited comments about upcoming Young Women's and/or Scouting activities, a smattering of pre-teen relationship updates, and the occasional review of a sketch from Disney's "So Random" (My newest "I should be way to mature to enjoy this" obsession... seriously...have you watched it? I laugh sooooooo hard!).

Of course, the problem with a "for the most part open door policy" is that "for the lesser part" of the time when, for the sake of my sanity, the door needs to be less open.


A lot less open.

Closed, even.

And sometimes locked.

You see, all of that visiting ends up cutting into my much needed last-minute-lesson-preperation-time, so over the years I have learned to come early when I really need to get things done. The problem is that the kidlets arrive pretty early too.

The first bus delivers a group affectionalty known as "the rowdy bunch" at 7:30 a.m., and some kids with working parents are dropped off even earlier.

School policy states that all kidlets must remain outside the building until 8 a.m., a policy that our kindly head custodian conviently overlooks on cold and/or wet mornings. While I usually unlock my classroom's front door right away, some morning I get busy and forget.

I will be sitting at my desk, working diligently, when I hear the doorknob behind me start to shake.

The doorknob shaking is always followed by gasps of surprise, and then more door knob shaking (the other assembled kidlets always have to check to make sure the origional knob-shaker's assessement that the door is locked is actually correct).

Once the "locked status" has been confirmed, the discussion phase starts, wherein they determine that A) The classroom light is on, and B) I am, in fact, in the room.

Then the knocking begins. At first, the knocking is a mellow, "Excuse us, Miss, but we would be very greatful if you would let us in" kind of knocking. Then it morphs into a more intense, Big Bang Theory, "Knock-knock-knock-Penny!" kind of knocking.

When that doesn't work, the kidlets assume that I must have my music up too loud to hear them. Yes. Loud music. That must be the problem.

The next step is the "there-is-an-escaped-mental-patient-chasing-me-with-a-very-large-knife" knock. Some of the really advanced students can actually use both hands for a knocking/knob-shaking combo.


That is about the time I turn around, shoot them a surprised, "Oh my goodness! When did you get here?" look, fumble with my keys for a couple of seconds (just to add a little extra dramatic tenson to the moment) , before opening the door. And suddenly, all is right with the world.


My classroom also has a back door. It is very popular with 7th grade boys who whole-heartedly believe that using that particuar door to get to the outside annex classes is unbearably cool.


I don't have the heart to tell them it increases their travel time by a good minute and a half.

This door has also seen it's share of frantic kidlet knocking. I don't like to brag, but I have gotten pretty darn good at distinguishing between the types of outside-knocking. There is the "I'd like to say hi," knock; the "I left my current events paper on the kitchen counter and need to use the classroom phone to call home before my mom leaves for work" knock; the, "I just learned the coolest new joke that I just have to tell you" knock; the, "I can't wait until 8 a.m. to go to the bathroom" knock, and the ever popular, "I really, REALLY can't wait until 8 a.m. to go to the bathroom" knock.

I hear that particular knock a lot. So much, I think I might rename this door the piddle portal.


And the third door? The door that leads from my classroom to the bandroom/stage? It deserves a post of its own.

It used to be that, when I would come home from school, I would leave all of the knocking behind me. But that was before I got a cat.

And when I say that I got a cat, what I mean is that I in no way have a cat.

You see, over the summer, this cat decided that I should adopt it. The cat even tried bringing me presents to soften me up... a half eaten fish, a dead bat, etc. I have done nothing to encourage the blasted thing. But it must have followed me to school for some reconnissance.

When that doesn't work, Never-Going-To-Be-My-Cat moves around to my kitchen window well. There, it continues to meow for exactly three minutes before giving up and disappearing into the night. Probably to catch more bats with which to gift me.

But I am still not going to let it in. At least, not until it can discuss the So Random Zombie Man skits at the same level as the kidlets.