Spring Neurosis Season Hits Early (RERUN FROM 4/14/12)

The other day, I was telling my husband, "The kids seem crazy earlier than usual this year." Then I ran across this blog post from last year, and I realized the kids (and I) are just crazy every year. The following was originally published on April 14, 2012.
 
A recent report on our local news station stated "Allergy season hits early," asserting that due to the mild winter, allergy season started earlier than usual in the Boise area and, due to the wet March, it will probably be long and strong.

So spring has sprung. Here are some of the things I love about spring:
1) Warmer weather despite some windy and rainy days
2) Only two months left of school signifying the light at the end of the tunnel
3) Going for a run outdoors without wearing Under Armour
4) Planting flowers and playing with my compost pile (That's not nearly as disgusting as it sounds, I promise.)

Along with the positive aspects of spring comes, not only allergy season, but something I like to call Spring Neurosis Season.

I know Spring Neurosis Season is just around the corner when my husband, Dan, starts talking about mowing the lawn.

"I guess I'll have to mow the lawn soon," he says with a sigh. "I wonder if I'll have to bag or not. It takes a lot longer to bag. I hope I don't have to bag. Maybe I won't bag."

About a week later, Dan mows the lawn, and I know Spring Neurosis Season has officially begun.

This year, Spring Neurosis Season brought me a plugged up ear, two migraines complete with acid-trip-like visual auras, and a few night terrors, more disturbing for my husband than for me. I usually sleep through them.

I have also had a few "Loss-of-Control" dreams. These dreams recur occasionally throughout the school year and consist of me standing in front of a chaotic Kindergarten or 6th grade class that is refusing to listen. In order to get the classes' attention, I launch into a tantrum that makes a two-year-old look mature, lots of eraser and SMART Board pen-throwing. Sometimes I even drop into a prostrate position and bang my fists on the ground. It doesn't work. Nobody pays attention. (Please don't turn me in. I've never actually behaved this way in front of a class in my ten years of teaching.)

My Spring Neurosis symptoms take a lot out of me. From January through March, I gave up my preps and lunches to prepare students for festivals and programs. I started evening rehearsals for The King and I. But I had plenty of energy. Now that all of my festivals and programs are over and my preps and lunchtimes are restored, I find myself exhausted.

This Spring Neurosis phenomenon doesn't just affect me. The kids at school are acting crazy too. And like allergy season, it seems a little earlier than usual. Typically, the kids wait until after the ISATs (Idaho's standardized tests that cause students, parents, and teachers many sleepless nights) to completely break down. Already though, many of my students have melted down, come to school in tears, and acted aggressively toward children and teachers. And our ISATs just started on Friday. Yes, my forecast says it's going to be a long Spring Neurosis Season.

Next week, we're playing instruments in music class. Am I nuts or what?

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In Which I Explore My Overinflated Sense of Height

Yesterday I went shoe shopping, and it made me think about my overinflated sense of height. Has anyone else noticed that it's virtually impossible to find "business casual" sandals with less than a two-inch heel? I don't want to be two inches taller. First of all, I'm scared of heights. Second of all, I already think I'm too tall.

A long time ago, my mother measured me at five-four. I spent years thinking I was an average height and staying out of the petite sections because "petites" are for women who are five-four or below. I couldn't understand why my pant legs dragged under my feet or why my sleeves hung about two inches below my hands.

"Don't you remember how Mom measured us?" my brother said. "She held the yardstick at an angle. I don't think it was very accurate."

The doctor measured me at almost five-two-and-a-half. She was nice and rounded me up to five-three. At my school health screening, the nurse recorded my height at five-two.

My husband, Dan, thinks I am crazy. (This is nothing new.)

"I can't wear those shoes. I'm almost as tall as you in them!"

"Yeah, right. You come up to my chin instead of my shoulder in those shoes."

Then he turns my attention to the mirror, and I have to admit, I'm not nearly as tall as I imagine.

"These shoes are so tall. Look, I'm eye-to-eye with you now!"

Then Dan bends his knees and looks into my eyes.

"This is eye-to-eye, Becky. You're not that tall."

But I'm not that short either. It's all relative.

In my brother's wedding pictures, I do look a bit shorter than most of the wedding party. But my brother is from a generation of kids who grew taller than us Gen-X'ers.

In the last picture I took with my in-laws, I was standing on uneven ground, and I ended up looking taller than everyone else.

In pictures with my family, there used to be a drop-off (like a valley) where I was standing. But now that my brother and stepbrother have gotten married, I'm not the only valley in the photos.

In our staff photos, I am definitely not the shortest person at my school. I have a lot of colleagues who are shorter than I. (I am pretty sure that elementary school teaching is a short people profession.)

The other day, I wore a pair of ballet flats to school.

One of my kindergartners said to me, "Mrs. Duggan, you look short today. How many inches are you?"

"So if a kindergartner thinks I'm short . . . " I said to Dan that evening.

"You're not the shortest person ever. I know people as short or shorter than you," Dan conceded. "I also know people taller than you though."

See . . . I'm not that much shorter than Dan. Of course, I am in two-inch heels.

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Becky's Mixed Metaphors (Guest Blogger: Dan Duggan)

I admit, the title is a little misleading. It's still Becky here. I tried to get my husband Dan to be my guest blogger. He has been taking notes on this particular topic for the last few months, but the other day, he handed his notes to me and said, "Here, you write it. I just want you to make fun of yourself rather than me for a change."

I have no problem making fun of myself, and since Dan had already done most of the "research," I was willing publish his findings.

Ever since we married, Dan has been amused by my ability to massacre proverbial statements, maxims, aphorisms, idiomatic phrases - basically anything that requires analogous thought. So Dan, always the methodical observer, started making a list. Here are all of the metaphors I have (completely unintentionally) mixed up over the past several weeks. I have included what I was trying to say in parentheses. (Dan had to help me with those.)

1. Cast the first stone glass house! (People who live in glass houses shouldn't cast stones.)

2. What? Do you live like a farm animal? (Were you raised in a barn?)

3. With all things, God is possible. (With God, all things are possible.)

4. Hello, Teapot. Meet Kettle. (That's the pot calling the kettle black.)

5. He would be rolling in his grave (about someone who is still living).

6. He's a Molly One-Note. (He's a Johnny One-Note.)

7. It's like a punchline in the face. (It's like a punch in the face.)

8. Barefoot and naked (Barefoot and pregnant)

9. Duck out of water (Fish out of water)

10. Cherry-coat it (Sugarcoat it)

I have tried to explain to Dan that, often times, I am purposely messing up these sayings for literary emphasis. He is not buying it. Guess I had better go clean that milk off my face . . .

Oh wait, Dan just said the correct farm product is "egg."

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Focusing on the Funny Stuff

Around this time of the year, school morale starts to slip. The teachers are stressed, and the kids are crazy. So to keep myself saner than the children are behaving right now, I decided to focus on the humorous side of my profession. Here are five funny things that happened last week:

Crazy Choir Kids
The Monday after spring break, all of my students seemed asleep, and it was a very calm day in my classroom. I assumed my Tuesday morning choir that meets before school would be just as peaceful. I was dead wrong. They were kind of like wild zoo animals. It was like they were super excited to be back in choir which was slightly flattering. These are the same kids who, when I announced that choir was going on break for a week, moaned sadly and begged me to still have rehearsals. I thought they would be happy to sleep in. I guess I was dead wrong then too.

Liquor Store Landmark
I'll admit this one is more disturbing than funny. One of my fourth grade students was telling me about a new arcade in town the other day. When I asked her where it was located, she replied, "By the liquor store." I didn't even know what a liquor store was when I was in fourth grade. And I still couldn't tell you where most of them are in Boise as an adult. What a landmark for a nine-year-old to have.

Even Kindergartners Think I'm Short
Because spring is on the way, I am not wearing boots or loafers as often to school. This means I lose about two inches off my height since my shoes of choice right now are ballet flats. One kindergartner remarked on Monday, "Mrs. Duggan, you look short today." Short even to a five-year-old.

Yoda Shirt
On Friday, one of my first graders was wearing a Yoda-holding-a-lightsaber t-shirt that read, "I do all my own stunts." The funniest thing was this kid is the littlest guy in the class. He looked a bit like Yoda next to all the other six-year-olds.

Zombie Tag
Our principal made an announcement on Friday regarding playground behavior. It's spring, and kids are starting to "forget" the school rule. His final plea to the students? "No more Zombie Tag!"

When I told my husband Dan about this new thing called Zombie Tag (I'm still not sure what it is), he said, "That sounds like fun. Do you get to bite people?"

Enough said.

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