Politically incorrect

Today we went on a field trip to Dickson Mounds, which is a Native American museum located in the middle of nowhere. It's so boring there that even the Indians would be begging for the white men to kill them and put them out of their misery. When we first arrived one of the boys pointed and said "Wow, look at those things!" As I turned to see what he was referring to I came face to face with a lifesize replica of an Indian woman without any stitch of clothing over her chest. What a nice boob shot ten seconds into the visit. We headed upstairs to hear about Native American artifacts. As the students were entering I told them to sit with their legs folded Indian style, which instantly I realized was the wrong choice of words. The woman giving the talk said "That is so disrespectful to our culture. We say criss-cross applesauce." However, I find that to be disrespectful to those brave apples who gave their lives to become a part of school lunches each day. Who's politically incorrect now? We later looked at the exhibits. (There's only so many arrowheads you can look at before you want to start jabbing them in your own eyeballs). We were told that when we finished with the exhibits to head into the large theater for another presentation. I opened the doors and led the students in only to be stopped ten seconds later by an irrate employee. "Who told you to come in here? This theater is closed for the time being," she griped. I explained that we were told to enter and she put her finger over her mouth as though to tell me to be quiet. As Kelly Ripa would say, that's a no-no. Don't treat me like a runny-nosed four-year old. Before I could be childish right back she added, "I don't really want to talk to you. I need the teacher." Perfect. I smiled right back and said, "Well that would be me. Michael Ritchason, nice to meet you" as I extended my hand. Refusing to take it she said a curt "Well you need to stay out of here" before hopping back on her broomstick and flying away.

Searching for nipples at Menards

A few days ago our water heater went out and has been leaking all over the basement floor ever since. Last night our trusty friend Rob dropped by to replace it for us. Now I will tell you up front I know nothing about fixing things around the house. I can teach your children how to read or how to memorize their multiplication tables, but don't ask me to fix a gas leak. Like everything else in our house the previous owners seemed to make improvements as cheaply as they could. As Rob was installing the water heater he noticed that one of the pipes that was used was illegal. He asked me to run to Menards which is completely out of my element. I wrote down specifically what he requested, repeated it numerous times to make sure I actually had it, and headed out before they closed for Thanksgiving Eve.

When I arrived at the store I tracked down a worker, only to discover he looked and acted like Clay Aiken's younger, even gayer brother. A gay guy working at Menards is like a straight man working at the Gap. I just isn't natural. I told him what I needed and he looked at me like it was the craziest order ever. He finally led me to a section of black gas pipes. I told him what specific measurements I needed and he replied that he had never heard of such a thing. I added that it had something to do with a nipple to which I think I noticed a twinkle in his eye. He responded by saying, "Oooh I know where the nipples are" and followed him with trepidation, unsure of where he would lead me. Needless to say he led me to another section of smaller pipes which were in fact what I needed. With black nipples in hand I headed home to finish the job (i.e. stand back and watch while Rob worked away).

From the line

There's a boy in my class who doesn't really have much to his name, including a dad. So when he asked me today to attend his first basketball game tonight I knew it would make his day. I drove over and witnessed a defensive showdown of nine-years old hopped up on Powerade. It was an action-filled game right down to the final buzzer when the score read 16-10. The best part was when this high school-aged kid came out after the first quarter. He stood at the foul line and shot free throws. And I thought halftime at the Bradley games were bad with the dogs catching frisbees. Anyway, the kid missed all eleven shots, five of which were airballs and three of which failed to even come within two feet of the rim. This kid was living one of my fears, standing in front of a gym full of people watching you suck at a sport. That's why I don't even attempt it and instead spend my nights watching yet another crappy Real World/Road Rules challenge.

America's most wanted

This afternoon my principal came in and asked me to stop in her office when I had a chance. Instantly I began wondering which parent had called, complaining that I had called their child a spook. Sometimes it just slips out. Later when I stopped by to see her she asked me to shut the door which is never a comforting sign. She took out a manila folder and said "I'd like you to take a look at this." I knew someone would stumble upon my nude Internet pictures one day. I was relieved to discover that it actually had nothing to do with me personally. All of the volunteers in our classroom are required to be fingerprinted to make sure they're not dealing in illicit activity. Well sure enough out of the whole school the only one that was flagged was a parent in my room that helps out several times a week. According to the poilce report attached, she and her husband had gotten into an argument back in 2001 and she had beaten the crap out of him. This is the same parent who bought me $75 worth of stuff at the World Series. Needless to say, I don't want to let this one get away. There could be a nice Christmas present on the way. She's coming in to help at 2:15 today. I need to be on my best behavior and try not to piss her off. She could kick my anorexic butt any day.

A D-list birthday

So last night for my birthday Rachel and I headed to Bloomington to see Kathy Griffin, who Rach absolutely loathes. I like her show on Bravo and have seen her various specials. However, I must admit that I didn't enjoy her live stand-up. First of all I knew I was in for it when in the first minute she screamed "Well we've taken back the House and the Senate." As the audience howled in approval I knew that my conservative, right wing-leaning butt was in the minority. How about that Aaron Schock victory? Anyone? She went through her whole barrage of celebrity stories, poking fun at Whitney Houston ("If even Courtney Love is saying you're messed up, then it's time to put down the crack pipe."), Paris Hilton ("She is without a doubt mildly retarded."), and Madonna ("When did she become more British than the royal family?"). Rachel was miffed because she had just commented on Madonna's accent two weeks ago and now thinks she deserves compensation for stealing her joke. The show seemed kind of stale to me and there is only so much you can hear about her feud with Ryan Seacrest. After you have heard her talk about sticking various items in her vagina 28 times it kind of loses its luster. The love affair with Kathy Griffin and her plastic face has now come to an end.

Hump day

Each morning my students do this word sort activity where they have to spell words and look at the similarities between them (incredibly exciting). Today one of the words was "hump" like the thing that is on the back of a camel. A boy raised his hand and said "My dad likes to hump," following by my mouth hitting the floor. He went on to explain that when he's riding with his dad in the car he always tries to go over all the humps in the road to make the car ride more like a roller coaster. Alright, now I've got it. Now I've seen both of this kid's parents and the last thing I want to do is picture them getting it on.

Stuck up

So yesterday I told you about the boy who brought me in some fish and how sweet it was. Well today it was time to see the other side of him. During our science lesson I heard him keep making a sound like he was blowing his nose. As I looked closer I realized that he had his finger up his nose and he didn't even have a tissue which about made me puke. When I told him to go get a kleenex he said seven words that I hope I never hear again: "My eraser is stuck up my nose." Sure enough he had a bright orange eraser wedged in his left nostril. I grabbed a couple tissues and tried to use my finger and thumb to grab it but they were too big. I finally got it out by using both of my pinkies as a kind of tweezers. (It wasn't a good look because using your pinkies for anything makes you look really gay.) After a few minutes the booger-coated eraser was safely removed and disposed in the garbage. Suddenly the fish-giving doesn't seem so weird.

Something a little fishy

Remember the old days when a student would bring a shiny apple to school for the teacher and she would display it proudly at the edge of her desk? Ya well I think those days are gone. Today one of my students brought me in an unexpected gift. Now he is one of those kids that I refer to as a 50/50 student because half of the time you really love him while the other half of the time he will drive you crazy. Yesterday I asked him how his weekend was and he told me that he went finishing with his dad and caught nine trout. I tend not to believe a whole lot of what he says after he told me that he went to batting practice with Albert Pujols and visited the Great Wall of China (on separate days of course). So today he walks in to our class with a large baggie of fish and says "Here's some trout for you, Mr. Ritchason." I peer inside and notice that there are four huge fish minus their heads. This will go down as the most unusual although unexplainably charming gift that I've ever gotten from a student.

Battleground

Another week, another star student to take out to lunch. Today it was Austin who chose Arby's. Everything was going just fine as we were eating until he told me that his stepmom had a baby in May. He followed this up by saying that his mom and his stepmom used to be best friends until his dad decided to move in with the best friend who is now the stepmom. Where do these people live? Wisteria Lane? Is there a guy chained up in the basement too? As Austin finished up his chicken strips he tipped the box up and began licking the inside of it to get the last few crumbs. Now if an 8-year old Ella is ever smashing her face into the bottom of a hot fudge sundae cup, writhing her tongue around for the last few drops of chocolate please feel free to swat her head away.

We headed to the parking lot to get into the car when Austin opened his door so wide that it banged into the car next to us. I looked and saw that there was someone sitting in the pimped-out Fast and the Furious car. Immediately the juvenile delinquent/black thug in a white man's body/wannabe Vin Diesel jumped out of his car decked out in Diddy's Sean John clothing line and raced over. "Whatchu doin' son?" he said to Austin, who gets literacy support and can't understand a simple sentence in a book let alone this high school drop-out jive. Thoroughly perplexed, he just stood there and said "Sorry." I examined both vehicles, neither of which had a single scratch. I too apologized and he just stared at me like he was unsure of what to do next. I was waiting for Slim Shady to challenge me to a freestyle battle right there in the Arby's parking lot. Finally, I said "Well we have to be getting back to school" to which he responded by reaching out his hand to me and doing one of this ridiculous handshakes with the fists and the thumbs. I never understand when people (especially white people) do that. Basically it's like a retarded version of a thumb war. We said our requisite "peace out" goodbyes and started to "roll out." Maybe I need to start rethinking this whole star student thing.

One of each

Rachel and I went to the doctor yesterday afternoon to find out the sex of the baby. Almost immediately the doctor could tell it was a boy (good genes). We're very excited but still a little surprised. We both had been leaning more to it being another girl. So of course Rach has already been out shopping to begin filling his closet. Which leads me to my office which will now disappear faster than Bo Bice's career. In the coming weeks my computer, bookshelf, and CD's will make way for a crib, changing table, and rocking chair. We haven't fully decided on a name yet, although Ethan has suggested Striker, which we would be foolish not to consider.