A Short Ditty On Cavities

I don't have a lot of funny stuff to say this week. Shocking, I know. I think I'll just tell you about my trip to the dentist because trips to the dentist are hilarious.

During this particular visit, I had to get a cavity filled. I had been doing so well. The dentist used to find cavities in my teeth all the time, and I was given several lessons on flossing and brushing techniques. For a while, I thought I had crappy teeth.

But I finally listened to my hygienist, and I had not gotten a cavity for a few years. Technically, this was a cavity that had to be refilled. Only new cavities count against my healthy teeth record.

The last time I got a cavity filled, it was on the upper right side. The Novocaine didn't wear off for eight hours.

"You look awesome, like some kind of sci-fi character!" my husband, Dan, said.

I looked like a stroke victim and scared my students to death when I got back to school. That is power.

My teeth are not completely straight, but they are nice and white, and I only have to use white strips on occasion, even though I am addicted to caffeinated beverages. My dental hygienist says I am one of the lucky ones.

So, anyway, I got this cavity filled.

I am ninety-percent sure my dentist keeps a file on all of his clients because everyone knows stuff about me. It doesn't matter if the hygienist is completely new and has never played around in my mouth in my life. He/She always asks me about my husband who works at HP, my job as a music teacher, or whether or not I am in any theater productions.

I have tried to get Dan to switch to my dentist because his employees are much more laid back than the people in Dan's dental office. Those hygienists have Dan super freaked out about gingivitis.

This time, though, the dental assistant must have looked at the wrong file.

"You ride Harleys, don't you?" she asked me.

"No . . ."

"Oh, I thought someone said you ride Harleys."

"No, not me . . ." That's way too hip for me, I thought.

When I was numbed out and ready to go, the dentist sat down beside me and asked, "So, are you excited?"

"No," I said.

I added a nervous laugh because I didn't want to sound too negative. They are always so nice to me.

The filling went fine. The Novocaine did not last for eight hours this time. I returned to school that afternoon with a perfectly normal countenance.

So sad, though, that I didn't get to scare my students with my alien face this time.

For the latest blog updates, visit and "like" Rebecca Turner-Duggan.

I Hate Parties

Guys, I hate parties.

That's not exactly accurate. I hate anticipating parties. I usually have a decent time once I'm there as long as I know some people. But I need at least a week to recover after being around large crowds, even as a completely sober party-goer.

This probably falls under that "I Totally Have Issues" thing.

People don't understand this about me because I talk a lot, and talking a lot makes me look like I am having sooo much fun. And I do have fun . . . eventually.

Lately, inspired by recent titles like Yes Please by Amy Poehler and Year of Yes by Shonda Rhimes, I have been trying to say "yes" more to social stuff, mostly because if my husband, Dan, dies, I will have no one to hang out with anymore.

People think I’m outgoing because, like I said, I talk a lot. But I talk out of nervousness. The more nervous I am, the more (and faster) I talk. I almost scared Dan off after our first date.

"I thought, 'Man, this girl talks a lot!'" he said. "'I wonder if she would be this talkative on a second date.'"

In other words, Dan asked me out again only because he was curious how deep the crazy went.

I have a better time when the social gathering is small or when I am familiar with the people. I hate going out of my way to meet new people. I would rather stick a fork in my eye than make small talk with strangers.

I am a friendly person, and I never actually act like I want to stick a fork in my eye, so I know this might be blowing your minds.

I often experience overwhelming anxiety before I attend social functions. You would think my seriously introverted husband would have the most trouble being social, but he is the one who sits in the car and calms me down before we enter the room. He doesn’t worry about parties because he never talks. Therefore, he has no chance to say anything super awkward and stupid.

Sometimes, after I have had a lot of fun somewhere, I come home and worry all night about everything I said.

This isn't a new phobia I have developed in my old age.

In high school, the music group I was a part of had a sleepover at the end of every school year. The first year I was in it, most of the kids were older, and I didn't know them very well. I came home from school the afternoon of the party and fell asleep immediately, hoping that an extended nap would prevent me from going. But my mother woke me up, and I went and sort of enjoyed myself.

During my young adult years, back before Dan and I were dating, I was supposed to go to a bible study at his apartment, and I didn't know the people in the study yet. Dan instructed us to either tailgate another car into the gated apartment complex or call his number if no one was around to unlock the gate. I didn't want to call anyone, so I made a deal with myself. If no one was around to tailgate, I would turn around and go home.

Luckily, I was able to follow someone in. The car that drove in ahead of me that night may be the reason Dan and I are married today.

Lots of people think Dan and I are opposites. But we're not. I'm just the more talkative version of him. We both like one-on-one friendships. We both like to stake out spots at parties and stay there. (Although, I will go to the dance floor and leave Dan to watch my purse from time to time. Dancing doesn't have to be a social thing, by the way.)

The other day, I attended a social event and headed straight for the hors d'oeuvres as soon I walked through the door. It is easy and slightly comforting to sit in one spot and eat all night so that one does not have to mingle.

The organizer approached me as I sat in my chair (that I stayed in all evening), eating.

"I thought I saw you sneak in, Becky!"

“Well, you know, where there’s food . . .” I said with a nervous laugh. (See what I mean?)

Dan laughed at me when I told him about this exchange.

Then he paused, "I think I would do the same thing."

But, since everyone wants a socially awkward, anxiety-ridden, nervous talker who will eat all of the food at the party, keep inviting me, people.

It’s good for me . . . sigh.

But don't be offended if I occasionally decline. I might just need the week to recover.

For the latest blog updates, visit and "like" Rebecca Turner-Duggan.

You Don't Have to Be a Frumpy Teacher

I refuse to give into frumpy teacher fashion. I am convinced that I can be comfortable and cute at the same time.

If something snaps inside my brain in about two years (when I enter my forties), and I start donning denim jumpers and gaudy Halloween sweaters, I can rest assured that I have a couple of friends who will take me aside and whisper, "Um, Becky . . . not a good choice." (You know who you are, friends.)

I confess, I own one long denim skirt and one long khaki skirt that I bought because, in a moment of weakness, I thought, "They are classics. They match everything."

I wore the denim skirt last week for the first time in about a year, and I discovered it has a "Mom Jeans" waist. Needless to say, it is going in the give-away pile this season.

I love classic teacher clothing. I'm just more of an Ann Taylor Loft teacher than a Christopher and Banks teacher. As I inch closer to forty, remaining an Ann Taylor Loft teacher is becoming more and more important to me.

It suits my elementary school kids' taste anyway.

"I like your sweater," from a fourth grader.

"I like the way you do your makeup," from a (no joke) kindergartner.

"You're wearing a dress!" from a first grader.

"You look very nice today," from a fourth grader (who may or may not have been trying to butter me up for something later on).

"You match too much," from a sixth grader. "You always match."

"I think that was a compliment and not an insult, so thank you?" I replied.

The girl smiled and nodded. Apparently, it was, indeed, a compliment.

One distressed student told me last year, "My cousins are so mean! They say you dress like a librarian."

I caught sight of these teenage cousins one morning and was pleased that these oversized-sweatshirt-wearing greasy junior high kids disapproved of my fashion sense.

"Awesome. Librarians are cool!" I told the student who immediately looked relieved that I was not dissolving into a puddle of tears.

I wanted to add, "And my good-looking hipster husband is kind of into the sexy librarian look."

Here are some examples of my anti-frumpy teacher look:

 

For the latest blog updates, visit and "like" Rebecca Turner-Duggan.

Sorry, Girls: How I Discovered I Liked Working With Boys Better (RE-POST from 3/1/15)

I wrote this blog post last year while I was directing Oliver at my school. After having worked this past week on Annie with my fifth and sixth grade students, I stand by last year's conclusion: Boys are easier to work with than girls. This would be a good time to prove me wrong, any of my little girls who are reading this (which is highly unlikely). Enjoy this reread from 3/1/15! I know enjoyed reminiscing . . .  

It pains me to admit this, but I like working with boys better.

Girls are mean and manipulative.

Before you take away my feminist card, ask me, "What is the context of this observation?"

My fifth and sixth graders perform in a spring musical every year. You might remember that last year, they put on The Wizard of Oz.

This year, they are presenting Oliver, which means I am working with lots of little boys.

Over the years, I have discovered that even nice girls turn a little nasty when given the right circumstances. I have encountered girls who have tried to sabotage my leads or have posted rumors on social media or have told their parents lies about me because they wanted a role I didn't give them.

This year (so far—knock on wood), I have had none of those problems. And I believe it is because my leads are boys.

Growing up, I was never one of those annoying girls who said, "I get along soooo much better with boys. All of my best friends are boys."

I was awkward around boys too.

But my handful of girlfriends were not the typical mean girls who gossiped, manipulated, played mind games, or treated people badly when they were jealous. Our mothers didn't raise us that way. And I have stayed friends with them for decades, across state lines and sometimes oceans, for that reason.

Back to the play . . .

The boys who auditioned were competitive. They wanted certain parts, but they accepted what they got, even though I have heard reports of a few tears at home. But they came back to school perfectly happy and with great attitudes.

The boys take direction well. They are willing to try new things even if it make them look silly. Some days, they might complain about not getting enough lunch recess, or they might run around on my risers instead of listening to acting notes. But I prefer that any day over the weird, arms folded in front, stoop-shouldered, angsty posture I often get from sixth grade girls.

My boys jump at the chance to wear stage makeup and costumes, whereas I have heard every excuse in the book from my girls as to why they can't wear makeup or certain costumes. I even added a clause in our "contract" about wearing "WHATEVER Mrs. Duggan says or you will not be cast."
I try to only cast kids who display good character and integrity, but I have found with girls, it is not always enough.

When one little girl was too embarrassed to hug Oliver during a final scene, another boy lead said with a shrug, "I'll hug Oliver."

Boys are awesome.

What am I doing next year, you might ask?

Annie.

Leapin' lizards!

For the latest blog updates, visit and "like" Rebecca Turner-Duggan.

My Year in Facebook 2015

I recently peeked at my Year in Review on Facebook, the computer generated version of, "How I Spent My 2015." I was curious as to what Facebook thinks are the priorities in my life, and it turns out, Facebook knows a lot about me. Here is a breakdown of my top 2015 moments according to Facebook.

1. Theater

Yes, Facebook, performing in musical theater did, in fact, take up much of my year. You will find, Facebook, that this is an annual occurrence, so get ready for more fun backstage pics in the years to come.

2. My husband, Dan

 

Thank goodness, Facebook! That was a close one. I am glad you decided my husband, Dan, was also an important part of my year.

Facebook chose pictures of the two of us hiking, attending a theater performance and a rock concert, and, most monumental, watching the new Star Wars on our anniversary.

Whew! Facebook thinks Dan is still a significant figure in my life.

3. My job

I have probably mentioned how much I love my job, and Facebook agrees with me.

Facebook included three job-related photos in my Year in Review, one photo of me with my school's girls' running group, one of me dressed up before handing out Halloween candy at school, and one of me writing my school's spring musical during Thanksgiving break.

All in all, Facebook, you did a great job of pinpointing a few of my favorite things. I guess I should applaud myself for such transparency.

Or maybe I should be slightly worried that you, Facebook, can read me like an open book with your Jedi mind tricks.

For the latest blog updates, visit and "like" Rebecca Turner-Duggan.