Bounce wit' me

So I replaced my awesome retro folding chair that I'd been using as a computer chair with an exercise ball a couple days ago. So far I'm not sure about the health effects, but its a heckuva lot of fun to bounce on. I can't say that it's done much for my typing skills, though. It has also caused me to have a certain clip from The Office in mind.

In other news.... there's a lot of news in my life.
To cover some of the things I'm most excited about though:
I had 3 tests last week and two mid-term papers due yesterday. I'm not certain how I did on all of them yet, but they are all done. Hallelujah, they are all DONE. And that is what really matters.
I also am in the process of training to be a volunteer for one on one tutoring at Bridgerland Literacy. That means that within a couple of weeks I'll be working with either an illiterate or English as a second language adult, or a child who is behind in their reading level. I'm really excited for this opportunity! I love teaching and I LOVE reading, so this is just perfect.
AND, what I am most excited about is the "new pair of jeans" I've been trying out for the past month. So far, they seem to fit wonderfully. They're not too clingy, but they are very comfortable and make me feel pretty. More updates on these awesome, erm, "pants" to follow.

Educational Autobiography Part 2

In sixth grade I excitedly moved up to the middle school. One of the first teachers I met there turned out to be one of the most instrumental in my development as a person and my decision to teach. Her name was Mrs. Stephens and she taught sixth grade reading. Mrs. Stephens had a glow about her. To me she seemed like an angel. She was about the age of my grandparents, and relatively soft spoken- until you got her to read. She had so much energy when she was reading out loud. There was so much passion and emotion in her voice that I couldn't help but be carried away into other, amazing places. She set my imagination on fire. That year we took a reading assessment. I remember the pride on Mrs. Stephens' face as she told me that I had placed at a college reading level. I remember her telling me that I was a very talented and beautiful young lady. Through my time with Mrs. Stephens my spirits soured. I began to feel like maybe it was a good thing to love reading. I became convinced that being smart was not just desirable, it was cool. I decided that year that I wanted to be a teacher. I wanted so badly to do for others what Mrs. Stephens had done for me.

My Educational Autobiography

So right now I'm taking Introduction to Elementary Education. Love the class, love the prof. I was just assigned an 8-10 page paper for this class wherein I will be going over the experiences from my life that have brought me to the decision to become a teacher, focusing mainly on my experiences in my K-12 years. They want the good and the bad. So I've been jotting down pivotal experiences from my life and thought I'd share a few of them over the course of a couple posts.
One of my first memories of school, or really life in general, was in first grade. (That's me on the first day of first grade, on the left, with my friend Ashley) My teacher was an impatient woman, inclined to lose her temper with the students fairly easily. One day we had an early morning assembly right after school started around 8:15 or so. I filed into the auditorium and sat down on the ground like I was supposed to, putting my hands down to lean on. Right after I did so a boy who apparently enjoyed soccer in his spare time walked by and stepped square on my right thumb with his cleats! As soon as the pain hit me I remember the scream getting stuck in my throat before bursting out at my full 6 year old volume and then turning into sobs. My teacher came running over, glanced at my quickly bruising appendage and declared that I would be fine and to stop crying. So I bit my lip and toughed it out through the fitness assembly where we were supposed to be doing push ups of all things. When we went back to class my thumb was still throbbing, so I requested to call my mom so I could go home. Again, my teacher insisted that I would be fine. I went back to my desk and tried half heatedly to focus on the lessons, while also watching my thumb turn unnaturally dark. About an hour later I again asked to call my mom and with a sigh my teacher told me that I could go get a bag of ice from the office but REALLY, I would be fine. This continued on through all of our morning activities, lunchtime, and even afternoon recess. Every time I would plead to call my mom at her work so that she could fix my thumb and my teacher vehemently declared that there was nothing wrong with my thumb, even as it continued to swell and discolor. Finally, around 1:30 my teacher grudgingly grew a conscience and informed me that I could call my mom. My mom was positively furious. She had a jerk of a boss at the time who didn't want her to leave right after getting back from lunch, so she had to deal with that, only to find out that I'd been injured the entire day. After a trip to the doctor and a sucker, it was decided that my thumb either had a major sprain or a minor break and needed a splint. This is my only real memory from first grade and probably why I do not look back on that teacher fondly.
Looking back on this experience, however, has taught me to treat my students and future children with respect and compassion, and therefore is an important milestone in my life.