On Teaching and Using Equestrian Sport Metaphors

I just realized that I didn't manage to get a single post written in the month of February. How lame of me! Hopefully this absolute tome of a blog post will make up for it.

In our defense, we were incredibly busy this past month. Evan is up to his elbows in graduate school work and trying to wrangle 7th graders on a daily basis. I, amazingly, worked almost every day in February, subbing all over the place.

Subbing is teaching me so much about what it means to be a good teacher. After I survived student teaching, I had figured that I'd get my own classroom, and just start learning the ropes from there. The Universe, however, saw fit to throw me into teaching via subbing, and that is a completely different ball game. Subbing is like starting a new job every single day.  Plus, every time I walk into a school, I'm basically doing a  job interview. The teacher (and the rest of the staff, really) are depending on me to magically know where everything is in the classroom (I'm starting to believe that all teachers hide the hall/bathroom/library passes just as a test for subs) manage students' behavior without any background knowledge or previous relationship with them, and then somehow try to act like I know what I'm doing and follow the lesson plan in such a way that the kids actually learn something. It can be grueling, to say the least. Luckily, I've been fortunate enough to sub in classrooms where the kids aren't actively seeking to run over my soul with their Nike's, Keds, or Toms.

There's a steep, steep learning curve that comes with subbing!

That is, except for one occasion that literally had me questioning why on earth I had chosen this profession at all.

I went to teach for an 8th grade Humanities class. No problem, I thought. I had actually met all of these kids before during my student teaching, and so I was actually looking forward to seeing them again. I knew that there were a few students with whom I'd had issues with during my student teaching experience, but I figured, "hey, I've been doing this for a little bit now. I've tackled some tough classes. I can do this!"

Before I get into the gritty details of that day, I'm going to introduce a horse-riding metaphor. See, a long, long time ago, I rode horses. I was by no means a professional, and I never entered a show arena. But, I loved going to the barn, seeing my lovely Quarter Horse, Chex, and just going out for a trail ride. He was great, and I got really confident on him. So confident, in fact, that one day, a friend and I decided to ride our horses over a few jumps. I remember thinking that even though I had never ridden Chex over jumps before, it wouldn't be a big deal. I'd ridden for a few years, right? Everything would be fine. Right?

Absolutely not me. But in my head, we looked this good.

Okay. Back to the torturous teaching day. As soon as the class started, the tension started rising. It seems like one of the difficult students I had dealt with months before had not exactly let go of their grudges against me. In fact, they were holding onto that grudge like it had handles and a chocolate-filled center. This student is a bully, and didn't even let me get past taking attendance before starting to antagonize other students and getting them riled up. Even then, I thought I could handle it. I have this policy, called Earn or Owe, where I tell students that every second they take away from their learning or that of their classmates, they owe me after class. On the flip side, if the class as a whole behaves well and uses their time productively, they get free time after class. In every other class I've subbed in, it's worked like a charm. It also teaches the students that they are responsible for their learning, that they need to look out for their classmates, and work together to earn a reward. It's been pretty darn useful. That is, until that day.

Go back about 9 years. There I am, riding Chex. We've warmed up, and he's been great. Granted, he was blind in one eye, so that should have been a red flag, considering depth perception is important when leaping over a very McGuyvered (yeah, I turned it into a verb) jump. I remember nudging Chex forward, and ever so obediently, he began to move toward the fence. I quickly got him to start cantering, and the fence loomed in front of us. I was super confident that we'd clear it, no problem. Chalk it up to teenage stupidity, or cockiness, but I totally made myself forget that neither Chex or I had any experience with jumping whatsoever. As we got closer, Chex's ears perked up as he saw what was in front of him, and instead of jumping cleanly and elegantly over the jump, he spooked. Chex had never spooked before, and so my loose grip on the reins and relaxed seat in the saddle was not prepared for his sudden, very fast change in direction. Instead of going over, he went around, but being a horse, he neglected to tell me, and I found myself losing my stirrups and realizing, in that movie-ish slow motion way, that I was going to fall off. I scrambled for the saddle horn, and I managed to yank on the reins enough to slow him down, but I did end up just embarrassingly sliding off the saddle and into the dirt, with Chex looking at me like, "And when had you thought to tell me we were going to do that?"

And in that classroom in February, I felt myself slipping off the saddle again, if you will. I had confidently climbed onto this animal, it had spooked on me, and I was quickly losing my seat. This class of 8th graders managed to rack up three minutes in time they owed me. Each time I reminded them that their behavior was costing them time after class, 99% of the class would groan and try to get the 1% to shut up, but this particularly difficult student would just grin and say, "I don't care." It was the longest 56 minutes of my life. I ended up just stopping the lesson and having them work in relative silence, but this student would manage to utter things under his breath, and when called on it, would say, "I didn't do anything! You didn't even hear me! It was so and so!" And whoever he had blamed would then yell back indignantly, "No! I didn't say anything! It was you!" Followed quickly by, "Screw you! I'm going to kick your a** after school!"

I know, I know. I should have kicked him out. I should have come down on him. But, it's complicated. This student has been a sore subject between the teacher I worked with during my student teaching and I for a very long time. I think he's a bully that's been allowed to be a stinker (because this is a family-friendly blog, I'll say stinker) for far too long; she thinks that he just needs more love and tenderness. So, as I'm subbing in her class, I can only think that she'll never call me back if I get him into trouble. I had wanted to prove to her that I could actually teach, and I had let this class take the bit in their mouth and run away with me. I literally had been left with no reins because I so badly wanted to leave a good sub report. I felt powerless. And you know how they say that horses can tell when an inexperienced rider climbs on? Middle schoolers have that lovely sixth sense as well, and this student saw me coming a mile away. He knew that it wouldn't go well for me if I left a negative report about him.

So, as I slumped into my chair at the end of the day, I knew that I had to tell the truth. I sat down and wrote my only (so far) negative sub report. It mentioned this student by name, and all the things he had done. I mentioned not really wanting to come back if this is what I could expect from her class. And then I got into my car and cried.

I also let a few humiliated tears fall onto the dust that day way back when as I sat nursing my bruised ego and behind. I watched Chex, now grazing calmly, incident completely forgotten. I tried to be mad at him, but I knew that I was to blame for what had happened. I knew that I had rushed both of us into something we weren't ready for. And I knew that I had to get back on and try again.

I spent the entire weekend after that awful teaching day thinking about what I could have done better. I wanted to badly to blame the students, to blame it all on this one student, to say mean and horrible things to that student the next time I saw him (just because I'm a teacher doesn't mean I'm immune to negative feelings, trust me) and to just never, ever, go into that classroom again. My confidence as an educator had been badly shaken, and I wondered if I had what it took to be a good teacher, if I let one punk 8th grader get to me this much.

 And then the phone rang. It was my old mentor teacher. She apologized for his behavior, and then mentioned something about remembering how he just really "hurt those he really cares for," or something. Honestly, I wasn't paying particularly close attention, at least not until she said, "Would you be willing to come in on Monday?"

And suddenly, there I was again, sitting humiliated and frustrated in the dirt, knowing that I had to get back into that damn saddle and try again. I paused, and then heard myself saying, "Yes, I'm free on Monday."

The most similar thing about both of less than stellar experiences, one on a horse, and one in a classroom, was the sense of pride I felt after decided to tackle both of them after making mistakes. I did eventually get over that jump with Chex, and I did make it through Monday with that very same class. During both events, I remember my hands shaking as I faced the obstacles ahead of me. But the important thing was that I did it. I got back in the saddle, bruised, battered, and better for it. I got back into the ring, back out onto the pitcher's mound, whatever sport metaphor works best for you. I did it. In both instances, I won my confidence back, and it let me move forward.

I wish I could say that every teaching day since then has been a dream, but that hasn't been the case. Every day is a potential fence in the field that my students might not trust me to get them over. Sometimes they spook, and it's my job to lead them back and show them the way over. And that's really what teaching is. And there's really nothing I'd rather do. Although, it'd be nice to go for a trail ride or two.

Six Months of Marriage! Huzzah!

Goodness, I have really neglected this poor little blog. See, I told myself that I would allow myself to sit down and write a new post once these two things happened:

1. I recovered from my last cold. Unfortunately, as soon as I was over that one, another one happily moved into my respiratory system. My immune system will absolutely never forgive me for being a substitute teacher.

2. I worked out. Let me just say that doing cardio requires some sort of breathing ability, and because of reason #1, my lungs are failing miserably at anything more than walking around classrooms collecting more germs. Therefore, Zumba classmates have totally forgotten who I am, and my dumbbells are collecting an impressive amount of dust.

Since I've given up on trying to have any sort of life away from Dayquil, I decided to come here and write a celebratory six-month anniversary post! I know I'm a little late, but six months ago, we were on a plane to Hawaii, and I was on a lot of Xanax to get me there. I'm absolutely terrible on airplanes. I just don't see anything natural about being on a glorified rocket, and the fact that my seat is a flotation device for water 36,000 feet below me doesn't help at all. But, I digress. We made it to Maui, and it was totally amazing, and totally worth the paralyzing fear.

To celebrate our six month anniversary, we bought a car! Well, with the help of Evan's parents, whose generosity knows no bounds. We are totally in love with our 2009 Subaru Forester, and now I don't have to worry every time Evan leaves the house to go to work because he's not driving his relatively ancient pickup truck down I-5. Plus, I like driving it, too.

"I don't rattle down the road! Yay!"

We then got all spiffy-looking, and made our way in our new (to us, anyway) car to the Rhinelander, where we feasted on fondue and schnitzel. So. Good.

The best part of the celebration? Looking over at my husband over that steaming bowl of cheese, and feeling so wholly, wonderfully married. I finally feel like it's fallen into place, and I'm not being a total wife poser. I felt so blessed to be married to my best friend, and to know that we have so many adventures ahead of us in our journey together.

"We'll get the hang of calling each other 'husband' and 'wife,' right?"

Looking Back on 2012

So, it is the last day of 2012, and following my annual tradition, I have a cold. Honestly, it's a tradition I would gladly do away with, but maybe it's the Universe's way of telling me to slow the heck down and take time to reflect on the past year.

2012 started with a tree falling on our house. No joke. It wasn't a big tree, and it really didn't do any real damage, but it certainly got our attention, and the rest of the year kept us on our toes until right about now. That dinky little tree must have been some sort of sign that 2012 was going to be testing us on quite a bit more than the strength of our roof.

Oh, and test us it did. In 2012, I found myself in the midst of attending graduate school, student teaching, quitting my job, and planning a wedding. To give you a small tidbit of what my mind was like during those months, there was a moment when I was looking frantically for my keys, and kept searching throughout the entire house, maniacally looking at the clock and freaking out about how late I was to some class. I kept yelling at everything, as if it was Newton's, Ampersand's, or Evan's fault that my keys had gone missing. As I was ranting, waving my hands around angrily and cursing my house for being a black hole that swallows keys, I realized that they were actually in my hand, and had probably been there for a while. Yep, that's how intact my mental faculties were for the majority of 2012. It's a miracle I didn't try to make floral arrangements with my 7th graders and teach Roman history to my bridal party.

2012 was tough on us in other ways, too. On September 3rd, one of my oldest and dearest friends passed away. His loss absolutely broke my heart, along with many others', and I honestly feel like the world has lost some of its light since his passing. It has been impossible to understand, but I find comfort in remembering him for the amazing person he was, and the impact he had on so many lives.

In remembering the harder moments of this past year, I can't help but feel so incredibly lucky to have such amazing family and friends that helped me through it all. I'm more than fairly certain I would have never made it to today in nearly as good of shape (they always downplayed how deep and dark my crazy deep/dark my under-eye circles were) without all of their support and love.

Even though there were difficult times this year, there were some amazing moments, too. For example (and I'm pretty sure you can all guess what I'm going to say) July 27th, 2012, was a phenomenal day. I honestly feel like I floated down the aisle (a miracle, considering I was wearing three-inch heels and walking on uneven grass) because I was totally lifted by the hope, love, and support all around us. On that day, I married my best friend, and we began a crazy, life-long adventure, which has already featured parasailing in Hawaii, hosting Thanksgiving without giving anyone food poisoning, cutting our very first married Christmas Tree (and consequently killing it because we forgot to make to cut the stump again, therefore it wouldn't absorb any water), nearly going bankrupt over a feline, surviving No Shave November with minimal razor burn, and learning the Canadian sport of Curling (a post for another day, trust me).  Also, I got over my crippling fear of cooking, and embarked on making some edible meals (others, not so much. I'm working on it)  more complicated than grilled cheese or Ramen noodles.

My Dayquil is wearing off, and so therefore, is my endurance for typing on my very old, crotchety laptop. I wish I had the strength to write about every amazing moment of 2012, because really, there were a lot. I wish I could go into so much more detail about Grey's Nights, Sushi Dates, and Baking Adventures. But all I will say is that they are all moments that I will carry with me through the end of 2012, into 2013, and for many, many years afterward.

And so I say goodbye to 2012, with a kiss and a slightly hacking cough, and say hello to 2013 with a smile and so much hope for all the memories to be made there.

Marriage Role Model Dream Team

You know, Evan and I are incredibly lucky in a lot of ways. For example, we both have jobs, we have health insurance, we don't have terribly bad morning breath, etc. But more and more, I'm starting to realize how lucky we are to have such incredible sets of parents who model to us, on a daily basis, what a good, healthy, and loving marriage looks like.

I mean, my parents just celebrated their 29th wedding anniversary on Sunday, and I still catch them staring dreamily into each other's eyes. And they flirt with each other. The still-fourteen year-old in me cringes to see that, but the newbie married part of me is just damn impressed. I love how much they love each other.

And Evan's parents are about to celebrate their 36th wedding anniversary, and they're at a point where they can more or less communicate wordlessly and without having to be in the same room. No, really. My father-in-law will suddenly look up from his paper, a question on his face, and before he even utters a word, my mother-in-law will say, "Yes, we do," and both then continue what they were doing previously as I sit gaping and astounded.

Both relationships are amazing, and totally inspiring to me, who regularly feels like I'm a total marriage poser just playing at this whole "adulthood," thing. This married dynamic definitely takes some getting used to, and when it's not as buttery smooth as I'd like it to be, I just look to my parent's and in-laws' and see what Evan and I could be like someday. They constantly show us how far a little work and a lot of love (oy, how cheesy can I get today?) can take a relationship, and it is such a motivator. Especially because we're still trying to get a decent laundry schedule down ("But I thought you were going to fold the clothes?" "Wait, is this basket clean stuff or dirty stuff?" "Not sure, should we just wash everything?" are common phrases thrown about the Tyler household) and our parents all run along like a well-oiled machine. At least, they make it seem like one; they always seem to have clean laundry. Along with their mastery of laundry coordination, they also raised us. There are days when I'm so overwhelmed in folding socks, chasing crazy cats, and burning dinner that even the tiniest thought of adding children to the mix makes me feel faint. And here our parents pulled it off, no problem. Amazing, I tell you.

My parents on their wedding day. Check out all the love in this picture! And check out all the tiers on their cake! 

The Marriage Role Model Dream Team. Plus Allen and Molly.

I honestly get all twitterpated when I think of Evan and I's relationship, and where it will be in 29, 36, or 50 years, especially when I know we'll be following in such amazing footsteps. 

Here's to you, Mama and Papo, Marybeth and Warren. Happy Anniversaries to the best Marriage Role Model Dream Team we could have ever asked for. We are so very lucky, and we love you all so much!

Christmas Tree Hunting

Between my bouts of work, grad school, and life, I shall be moonlighting as a blogger here. My wife's writing tends to put mine to shame, but I shall do my best.

The Christmas season is upon us, and that means it is open season on all evergreen trees between five and nine feet tall. Just over a week ago we bundled ourselves up, obtained some coffee, met up with my lovely in-laws, and headed out to secure ourselves a beautiful tree.

 We were taking old-timey pictures - German and Ana's came out way better than my attempt.

I don't look old-timey at all, I just look like I dropped my ice cream cone.

We made for Ryzn Creek Farm, located just a few scenic miles north of North Plains. After a great tip from our good friend, Travis, three years ago, we have visited Ryzn Creek Farm for all our indoor arboreal needs.  After an arduous hunt (ten minutes), we made our selection.

So many trees to choose from!

I set to work violently hacking the poor thing down, smiling maniacally as I worked.

Next year I am bringing a plastic bag to kneel on.

No sooner was the tree on the ground, when three Girl Scouts appeared, offering to help us carry our prize back to the parking lot. I thought we had hit the jackpot this year, when the leader of the pack quipped, "Who's carrying the front?" I obediently grabbed the front of the tree and we began our march. Her only words of encouragement were, "Tell me if there any stumps!" German and Ana were saved from the bossy Girl Scouts, as they opted for the tree closest to the parking lot. The owner even offered to cut it down for them with his chainsaw.

Back at the in-law's house, we were treated to a delicious dinner of tamales, beans, and salsa. After dinner, we completed another annual tradition, the viewing of Love Actually.

The next day we were able to bring the tree inside and hang our decorations on it, thus providing our cats with two feline holiday treats: tree-flavored water and a large number of forbidden, shiny, and dangling objects to play with. Newton provided supervision the entire time, and kept trying to lend a paw in hanging the ornaments. Ampersand was nowhere to be seen during this process, as she was sure that the tree was sure to be her doom. Nonetheless, she was hiding under the tree and partaking of Grand Fir Pale Ale later that evening.

"You're doing it wrong," his look seemed to say.

All done!

Newest ornament addition this year - "Mr. & Mrs."

With our tree now decorated, the Christmas season is here in full force. Eight days and counting!

Evan out.

No Shave November: The Grand Whisker Finale!

So here we are! The fourth week and the grand whisker finale we've all been waiting for! I have to say that I am pretty impressed with my husband's hair follicles. They really rose (er, grew) to the occasion during the third week, and went full-on beard length during the fourth. I mean, he actually got food stuck in it once.

What my darling husband failed to mention was that at the end of the month, every teacher at his school (that grew a beard. Well, an intentional one. Apparently there's a fuzzy lady that works there, too) was required to shave the beard into some sort of crazy facial hairdo. Evan decided on a Fu Manchu and consequently looked like a time traveler that had been plucked straight off of Haight Ashbury in the 1970's. Of course, I had to take pictures (someday, our kids are going to be so proud), and here they are:

Look! A beard! 

Side view. Patchy never got it together, unfortunately. 

Here's the other side, with another lazy, good for nothin' bald patch. 

I obviously cannot hide my glee that the beard is going bye-bye! 

The shaving begins! 

The Fu Manchu is taking shape. Whoo. 

And there it is. My husband, with a Fu Manchu. The only problem was the his top lip was kind of sparse. I offered to color it in for him with an eyebrow pencil, but I was declined. 

Side view of the Fu Manchu. He went out in public like this. Seriously. 

I am smiling, but I'm secretly terrified that I am now married to a Wyatt Earp lookalike. 

Just to be clear, the Fu Manchu only lasted a day. I'm heartbroken that it had to go. Not. 

Thanks for tuning into this exciting, hairy (puns, gotta love them!) journey we've been on for the last four weeks. Here's hoping Patchy I and Patchy II get their priorities straight for next November! I have my eye on you, Patchies! 

The Tylers Host Thanksgiving!

Two years ago today, Evan proposed to me on a beach on the Oregon coast. It was an amazing day. I decided to celebrate the occasion by writing a blog about how we, the fledgling Tyler family, totally conquered Thanksgiving. 

Not too long ago, we were sitting in my in-law's living room, opening all the amazing generous gifts from all of our friends and family. As we excitedly opened a box of brand spankin' new plates, serving dishes, and cooking stuff, I heard myself say, "Well, I think we will be hosting Thanksgiving this year, so we can use all of this!"

Somewhere, in the far reaches of my mind, a small voice said, "Are you out of your mind?" But I didn't listen. 

So imagine my surprise when, on the Sunday before 12 people are due at our house to eat the biggest meal of the year, I realize the potentially catastrophic mistake I made over a pile of wrapping paper and Crate and Barrel boxes. We were hosting Thanksgiving, and we didn't even have a turkey! 

We raced to Fred Meyer and spent a small fortune on everything we would need, and ended up getting our 18 pound bird for free. Kind of. It depends on how you look at it. Either we spent $120 dollars on groceries, and got a free turkey, or we bought a $120 dollar turkey. It's all about perspective, I guess. 

Anyway, I also realized upon arriving home that we had absolutely zero decorations, and I wanted our house to look homey, cozy, and Thanksgiving-y. And so commenced the scouring of Pinterest. I made an entire board, and on it went every idea that seemed even remotely feasible for my craft-challenged self. I settled on using Mason jars that we had used at my bridal shower, some corn kernels I found in our pantry, a little bit of raffia, and some tea light candles I found in a random closet. I threw it all together, and I was honestly a little bit amazed they didn't look totally heinous. Evan and I also did an emergency gathering mission to Michaels and Bed, Bath, and Beyond, and scored an appropriately kitschy turkey decoration, and some autumn-colored napkins on clearance. Oh, and bought squash. I've always seen squash in Thanksgiving ads, so we had squash, too. 

And now onto the big day. I swear, I was more nervous on November 22, 2012 than I had been on my wedding day. Probably because I knew that my wedding day would more than likely end on a good note, while Thanksgiving could end with food poisoning. I spent the entire afternoon vacuuming, dusting, and setting out the squash in appealing formations, while Evan manned the kitchen. We had actually found some recipes on Pinterest (I LOVE Pinterest. It makes me feel craft/cooking capable, which is quite the feat!) that we wanted to try, such as a sparkling cranberry punch, crock pot mashed potatoes, and jalepeno crescent roll poppers. We had initially planned on trying both of these out beforehand, but subbing, graduate school, and a severe case of naivete got in the way. 

In all honesty, I was freaking out right until every one came over. Seeing my family (original and new acquisitions) gathered together, laughing, catching up and drinking the cranberry punch without wincing made everything else seem kind of petty. I'm pretty sure they wouldn't have minded too much if we had had to order pizza. But, as it turns out, everything turned out totally, totally awesome. I had a wonderful time, and I'm pretty sure everyone else did, too (that could be because we may have forgotten to mention there was wine in the punch, but hey, whatever helps). And, I think I'm still full. There was so much food, it was unbelievable. Oh, and it has to be said that I, Mariela Tyler, made jalepeno crescent roll poppers successfully. Seriously. I owned those poppers. 

Now, onto pictures from the big day! 

Our foyer, with our last minute decorations!

Kitchen going full-force. Note my jalepeno poppers on the counter, next to  phone, in case I set the whole place ablaze and needed to call 911. 

Our table, all prettied up! 

My most crafty moment! I think they looked cute! 

The appetizer table! Seriously, these are just the appetizers! Tamales, pepper poppers, deviled eggs, veggies, and crackers and cheese. 

My squash! 

We actually lit a fire in our fireplace! It was totally worth the entire house smelling like a campsite for the next few days! 

Sparkling Cranberry Punch! So good! Thank you, Pinterest! 

My adorable husband, mashing away. 

Norman Rockwell, eat your heart out. 

The dessert table. So. Good. 

I also made turkey cupcakes for the occasion. I think the one in the middle looks especially terrified to be eaten.

There you have it! We survived hosting Thanksgiving. In fact, I'd say we pretty much conquered it. I actually didn't get a shot of all the finished food, because it was pretty much hoovered as soon as it hit the table. But it was good, I promise. I hope you all had a wonderful Thanksgiving, full of love, laughter, and of course, squash. Ours was full of all three, and we are actually considering doing it all over again next year!