I Miss You Room 116

Folks, I don't often comment about my work life on my blog because, well...on a scale of 1 to 10, I love my job about an 11.  Good curriculum, ideal schedule, students who have become family.  Therefore, the recent turn in events at school has really put me in a funk. 

I share a room with my teacher-twin Lindsey.  We teach the same thing, but to different grade levels.  We alternate teaching in room 116 depending on our class schedules.  So you can imagine my hesitation when I learned that Lindsey would be out on maternity leave from November through March.  

Enter Mr. Orange, her long-term sub (name changed for his confidentiality and my amusement).  When we initially met Mr. Orange he was professional, capable, and good with the kids.  If only we had known that Mr. Hyde was in there somewhere...

Since November, things have been in a gradual downward spiral. 

- Mr. Orange did not show up for work on 3 occasions and I had to make last minute sub plans for him

- Mr. Orange will not read his school email for fear of being held responsible

- Mr. Orange raised his voice to the Assistant Principal

- Mr. Orange told the Dean of Students that if she tried to observe him again he would quit

- Mr. Orange passed off his duties onto me without telling me

- Mr. Orange will not follow sub plans and had his students paint instead of read

- Mr. Orange refused to do important requirements of his job until he was caught

And best of all!...

- Mr. Orange followed me down the hall on Monday and verbally assaulted me in front of students and teachers for no reason. 

I have filed a grievance, but the school is not able to do anything about him.  There are procedures to follow.  He gets a meeting with the Dean and another warning and a letter of reprimand.  I get to share a room with him. 

So, room 116, my home, has become the child of divorced parents.  I have custody in the mornings, and Mr. Orange has custody in the afternoons.  I pack up all my things after lunch and never return. 

When I take a moment to reflect, I realize that this experience has taught me so much:

- I need to focus on my locus of control. 

- I am lucky to have so many other "homes" open to me throughout the school. 

- I still love my job, even under insane circumstances. 

Feeling uncomfortable or unwelcome in your home is all encompassing.  It changes how you think about your day and how you treat people you come into contact with.  Room 116 is my home.  It's where I keep my pictures, my candy drawer, and five million stacks of random papers on my desk. 

If I am all bent out of shape about "losing" my classroom, imagine what it is like for students who don't have a real home to welcome them. I know now that I must make my classroom a stable, friendly and safe place - it might be the only one some kids see.  And it matters. 

I also know now that I'm strong.  I'm a survivor. (cue Destiny's Child). 

Sean, I'll Date You

I have a secret obsession.  And it really isn't so secret.  I am obsessed with The Bachelor and The Bachelorette.  

I know, I know, every girl says that - but I'm serious.  

I remember watching the pilot with Bachelor Alex in 2002.  

I remember how in high school my dad started watching it so that he could have a shot at talking to me on Monday nights.  

I remember how ugly Trista's bangs looked during her wedding special in 2003. 

I remember rooting for the other guy when the ladies got to choose their bachelor during Season 6.  

I'm the reason this show still exists. The only season I have ever missed was Prince Lorenzo's...and that was only because I was living in Africa without electricity. Stupid Africa. 

I could be embarrassed about this little obsession - but to be honest, considering all the shows on my DVR, this one might be the least embarrassing (Gigolos, anyone?).

Well, Season 17 is upon us and let me tell you - I love Sean!  He is just my type: humble, sporty, smart.  

I'm still upset that the season I auditioned for was for dumbass Brad Womack!

And so, to celebrate this momentous event, I give you: The Bachelor Bracket.

It is a bracket of the winners, the losers, and the crazies.  In order to win, one should really take copious notes during the episodes.  And do outside research.  And consider historical trends.  

There are already 11 girls in my pool.  You might think we're insane.  You might think we should get some hobbies.  I just think that finally, finally, finally I understand the appeal of fantasy football. 

Let the roses begin. 

Nadia and Carl Getting Married

Nadia and Carl, no one could throw a wedding like you two!  

From the (very ambitious) pre-wedding skiing:

To the wedding ceremony itself:

From the fancy wedding night dinner:

To the First Annual (hopefully!) Cringle Winter Olympics:

I thank you for inviting me to witness your love and to commune with your families.  This wedding weekend was as beautiful and unique as the bride and groom.  Congratulations. 

'Twas The Night Before Christmas

I'm a Grinch.  I admit it.  I don't really love Christmas. Sorry!  It just feels over-commercialized, freezing, dark, and not to mention historically inaccurate.  (whoops, was that too honest?)

But this year, a little Christmas spirit sneaked its way into my heart.  

With her hubby off to New Hampshire to celebrate with his parents and grandmother, my sister was flying solo this Christmas.  Which meant that Christmas Eve was an occasion for the original Broyles Four to revisit some childhood traditions. 

All of us slept back at home.  (With our animals).

We saw the Christmas pageant at church. 

 We ate a meal together. 

We even brought out our childhood Christmas books and took turns reading them aloud around the fireplace.  Just like we did as children. 

But I think it was the rediscovery of a book from my great-grandmother, Granny Mae, that really warmed this heart of mine.  

Christmas might not be my #1 holiday (that's Easter, obviously), but any holiday that brings back the silence, the peace, and the beauty of my childhood is ok by me. 

I hope your holidays were just as blessed.