Today my friend decided on a new motto for our middle school: Puberty In Unity. As it is both apt and highly amusing, I must agree with her. The mob mentality of some of these students is frightening. Take a simple thing like making flash cards- it is very likely that chaos will ensue. One student wrote down “titillate” and an entire class didn’t stop giggling for 45 minutes solid. And you just never know what might set them off. One on one they are angels. All together, atrocious.

In any case, those are the middle school musings for today. In other news, January is so OVER. Can you even believe it? The only reason I bring it up is because tomorrow begins February, the most wretched month of the year. Cold, dreary, conversation-heart-filled February. There’s a reason it’s the shortest month of the year. But I promise you it will be ok. Just keep reading this blog and you will forget all of last night’s nightmares of chocolate roses and Spongebob Squarepants V-Day cards. Just hold on- 28 short days closer to spring.


The scene: A middle school library in an upper-middle class town.
The time: A Friday afternoon.
The cast: A group of 8th grade students.

Here’s how it went down: my group of students were diligently working on research projects, quietly computing math problems, and filling out Spanish worksheets. One boy, however, was continually begging me- please, please, please let us have a rap battle! I quieted him down, set him back to work.

With one minute to the end of class he looked up at me, the unasked question written all over his face. I looked at my watch. “You have one minute. Go.”

He jumped up, put his cap on sideways and walked like a gangsta over to the rest of the class. What followed can only be described as the worst freestyle rap I have ever heard in my life. I wasn’t expecting there to be any 8-Mile, Eminem-style lyrics going down. All I can tell you is that the lyrics I did hear involved saying things like “H to the Hizzy” over and over again.

I informed this gentleman in no uncertain terms that there would be no further rap battles until he had put in some serious practice time. “Yes, ma’am”, he mumbled, and shuffled off to his next class.

Lesson for the day: just because you’ve got the bling, it does not a rapper make.


And that’s all I have to say, peeps. See you next week for more adventures.

Area librarian NancyPearlWannabe was quoted recently in School Library Journal as being tired of having torn and bloody cuticles. “Damn, yo. I must have more paper cuts than anyone on this planet. I’m kinda a mess. They definitely neglected to mention these types of hazards in the Graduate School of Library and Information Science application packet. “

Sources close to NPW do not deny the fact that she is in dire need of a manicure. “I don’t know what goes on in that library, but I know for a fact she applies Intensive Healing lotion, like, every hour”, quotes a fellow teacher in the staff room. “What does she expect, working with books like that?”

Despite her best efforts, NPW finds her shredded skin constantly catching on paper and clothing, further damaging the already fragile nail beds. Adding to her worries, scientists have recently confirmed that paper does, indeed, suck moisture from one’s skin. NPW is currently working on an overnight concoction of lotions, balms, and plastic gloves to combat this medical phenomenon and keep her skin soft and smooth. “Dripping blood on all the books is getting seriously old. If anyone out there knows of a cure for ripped up cuticles, post it on a listserv, will you?”


Normally I try to refrain from any kind of political commentary here in BlogLand because, frankly, it’s boring to write about how dumb Dubya is. However I am going to make an exception today: I’d like to extend my thanks to Mr. Derrick Z. Jackson, op-ed columnist for the Globe, for publishing his commentary on Bush’s education gap. While I do not have the energy nor the talent to publish articles on Bush’s many failings, I am glad there are those out there who recognize the absurdity of cutting $12.7 million from education while we educators try to make el Presidente’s miserable No Child Left Behind Plan work.

Oh no, Georgie, please, go right ahead- obviously, the rich should get tax breaks, and we can certainly see the pressing need to vote in an Iraqi president right quick. What’s that you say? The future of America? The kids who will take over some day? Who cares. By then you won’t be President any more, anyway.

Yeah, I’m not bitter or anything.

Also: what kind of middle name starts with a Z?


Today I returned from lunch to find students filming an action-packed spy/ninja movie in the library stacks.

Apparently, a group of 7th grade boys with a noticeable lack of enthusiasm for pretty much anything that doesn’t include violent video games or Truth Or Dare decided to create a script- complete with plot, character development, and blocking- and film it in my library during lunch. Much drama, roundhouse kicking, and combat rolling ensued. What were they filming it with? These ingenious boys were using their cell phones to record their masterpiece in 20 second video clips and combining them on their video iPods.

On the one hand, I realize these boys should be at lunch. On the other, how could I refuse them the opportunity to showcase their true talents? Besides, I got a free show- and it was Hilarious. With a capital H. If I manage to get hold of a final edited copy, you can bet you’ll be seeing it (and me) at the next Sundance.

Due to this morning’s unexpected inclement weather (unexpected to me, anyway) many of the teachers were late to school. Not your faithful librarian, however- she was here with a (somewhat crazed) smile on her face despite the rapidly accumulating frozen pretty water. So when the principal asked that we watch some of the unattended rooms, I gladly obliged.

The kids were amazed to see me outside of the library. “What are you doing here?” they demanded suspiciously. I announced my new reign as homeroom teacher… and received a huge cheer! Who knew I was so very pop-u-lar amongst the 6th graders?

Easy as that, my disappointment over the non-snow day vanished. One cheer to get me through the day. I conveniently didn’t mention that I was only homeroom teacher for the day. Let them hold on to a glimmer of happiness. At least until tomorrow, 7:36 a.m.

PS- I realize the picture has nothing to do with the post. But I am engaged in an epic battle for the most cute photo and we all know… I like to win.

…with all the CUTENESS you can handle!

So after yesterday’s depressing news re: love v. mental illness I thought we could all use a dose of happiness to end this forever-long week. Be prepared- this site will make even the most cold-hearted among you say “AWWWWW….” repeatedly. So if you’d like to maintain your foul mood, do not click on the link above. Otherwise, happy Friday!


Yesterday I read an article in National Geographic; basically, it claimed that love and OCD are the same disease. Both are caused by almost the same chemical imbalance in the brain. Thus, being “in love” should count as a mental illness. This would also explain why regardless of how many times a person may get hurt by someone they are “in love” with, they continue to try their hand at the love game. It’s an addiction, people- one meant to ensure that life on our planet continues. We are biological and chemical fools, and damned if we can do anything about it.

Bearing this in mind, I see two options:
1. We (and by we I mean the collective “we”) revolt against our very natures and strive to live independently, alone, depending solely on ourselves for comfort and provision.
OR
2. We revel in our helplessness and succumb to the inevitable. We will fall in love. And it will either last forever or it won’t.

That is some mad Buddha wisdom. Word.


This is a good one to tell your kids just as they’re falling asleep. Guaranteed to keep them quiet.

Once there was an old man. He had a disease called Alzheimer’s, which is not very pleasant at all and makes you forget things just as soon as they happen. Well one day, this old man decided to go upstairs and brush his teeth. So he got in his chair that rolled him up the stairs along the railing and headed up. On his way up he heard a terrible screeching noise and was startled, but promptly forgot about it when he got to the top of the stairs.

On his way back down, he noticed something strange on the stairs but couldn’t really identify it and then promptly forgot about it. When he got to the bottom, his cat Princess was crying at the door to go out, so he let her out. As he walked past the stairs, he once again noticed the furry thing on the stairs. As he bent to pick it up, he realized it was Princess’s tail. He also realized he had chopped it off with his stair chair.

He promptly forgot about it until his son came over a short while later and noticed both the tail and the missing cat.

That is the story as to why Princess is missing her tail to this very day. I’m recording it now so that we don’t promptly forget all about it.

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