Message received.

I don't pay much attention to the text message templates stored in my phone. I've had a new phone for a few months now and decided today to check out what templates the new model offered. "What time are we meeting?" "I'm running late." Pretty standard. "Sorry I missed your call. What's up?" "Where are you?" Yeah, alright. Nothing I'll use. "Talk to you soon." Well, sure I might use that, but I can type it in less time than it takes to find the template. "I love you." "I'm in a meeting." Bori--wait. I love you??

I understand that templates are there for convenience. Generic things that you can send quickly without much thought. Do we really want to promote "I love you" as one of those sentiments? I don't feel good about that. I'm sure that when the decision was made to include that, it wasn't malicious. The Template Team probably envisioned people sending a nice message to their wives in the middle of boring meetings, or a quick text on the way to work to your boyfriend.

It will not remain that way, I fear. Men are going to notice this template, a landmine surrounded by innocuous messages about meetings. They are going to think that it is acceptable to drop the L bomb via TEXT. This will be on their list of Chickenshit Ways to Express Your Feelings, alongside email date invites and letting her know she is your girlfriend by changing your facebook relationship status.

I encourage you to delete this template from your phones, or at least to add, "but not enough to tell you in person or even type it out myself." to the end. (Let's be honest with each other here.)


**PS--My sister's phone, a different model, does not offer the I love you template. It DOES, however, offer "I love you too." Coincidence? Or meant to be? You decide.

Fury.

Dear Rihanna,
Are you kidding me? Please tell me that all these news reports are false and you're not back together with Chris Brown. We all saw the picture and heard the stories when he "allegedly" beat you. (That's the tricky thing with the word allegedly. It leaves room for "no, he didn't, I fell down some stairs." But most of us still think he did, and will continue to think so. Sorry, but that's the truth.) And now you're BACK with him?? Are you an idiot? Do you even realize that as a public figure, you're a role model? And young girls look up to you? You could do so many positive things with that! But this, THIS is what you show them?
I hope you figure things out.
Solitarily yours,
Bitter Amanda

Is your person missing any teeth?

I love my first grade class. They make me laugh, even when they’re a little loud or a little bizarre. They’re wonderful. But right now I have a bit of a problem. A Secret Whistler. Now, I have a Whistler, who is a bit (lot) disruptive and wanders around from time to time. He sometimes whistles…not a particular tune, but just for the noise. It’s annoying, to say the least, but usually it’s easy to contain.
When my class is being loud, one of the super fun things we do is put our heads down on our desks. They know that until they’re quiet, I will continue to sit at my desk and wait them out. At the start of last week, during one such time, we heard a whistle. I told A. to stop. It happened again. And again. The class, frustrated, told A. to “stooooop!” A. denied all involvement. So I watched. AND IT WASN’T HIM.
Which means I have a Secret Whistler. I watched my class, hoping to catch someone. No go. But it kept happening and the class kept blaming A. I feel badly for him! But more than that, I am losing my mind over this copycat.
I’m going to have to out-sneak my class. I WILL figure out who it is. It’ll be like Guess Who? but with first graders. I’m going to keep a class list handy and cross off students when I deduce that they are not the culprit. If things get worse, I may ask the music teacher to test them on whistling—see who has the ability.

Wish me luck.

Best of both worlds?

My first grade classroom is right down the hall from three of our kindergarten classrooms. (We have four.) I love the teachers, and I know most of the kindergarteners fairly well. (I've spent a lot of time with them.) Yesterday, my class was in music and I had a question for...well, anyone on staff who was able to answer it, really. I found a student's record folder in my mailbox without any note or anything...which is odd. Report cards were just turned in, so it's not unusual for it to be out, but I really didn't know what to do with it. Folder in hand, I headed across the hall to a kindergarten class.
I expected to interrupt an activity, as I usually do when I enter that room, but what I found was beyond expectation. Three classes were crammed in there, all sitting around tables having a hot cocoa and cookie snack!
"....Heyyyyyy....." I said as I entered and surveyed the landscape of 60 five year olds. The three teachers said hi, but the reception I got from my tiny audience was totally unexpected. "BITTER AMANDA!" they yelled as they saw me, waving frantically. Some darted out of their seats to get a hug. You'd think Hannah Montana had walked in, the way they shouted my name. If they had cell phones, they'd have been pulling them out to get my picture.

It was awesome.

But actually quite disruptive, and I almost felt guilty. (Almost. I totally recommend this for one in need of a self-esteem boost. Not gonna lie.) One of the teachers, S, laid down the law, telling all the students that I had done nothing wrong that day, so there was no reason to yell at me! The kindergarten was informed that they could wave, wink, and smile at me, but yelling was out of the question. I even behaved like an adult and backed her up on this, discouraging all attempts to get a hug. I will, however, stop in at random intervals to ensure my popularity stays at rockstar-worthy levels.

Welcome back!

You made it! I'm home and you're still ok. I knew you could do it.

Well, I hoped you could do it. I had some doubts. But well done!

My homecoming to the US was an interesting one. Landing in Houston, I was still able to enjoy warm weather and my flip-flops. Going through customs, I had one form filled out for me and the 3 teenagers I was in charge of. (Scary? Yes.) The customs officer told me that I probably should have filled out a separate form for each of us, since technically we aren't related. At my offer to fill out new ones for each of them, he said it "should be ok," and started his next sentence with, "If anyone gives you a hard time..."

I assumed he was about to give me some sound advice on what to do in this event. I figured, being a customs official, he would have something helpful to say. I waited with anticipation and more than a little anxiety.
"If anyone gives you a hard time, just tell them that they're all from different fathers."

WHAT?

"Say that you've been with 5 or 6 guys."

Yeahhhh, I did hear him correctly. The customs official not only told me to lie, but promoted promiscuity. Awesome. I did not think that US customs officers joked around. (Or maybe he was serious?)

"Well, ok..." I said.

"Welcome home," he added as I rounded up my kids and walked away, laughing.

Happy Holidays!

Remember that time this summer when I abandoned you (No, I didn't abandon you! Come on, we talked about this--I temporarily took leave of your company, GOD. You are so needy.) for a few weeks? And you thought the world would end without my blog being updated like a ray of sunshine on your cloudy day? But then I got home and you were like, "Huh. Guess that wasn't as long as I thought it'd be. That wasn't bad, actually. Man, I AM needy." That was fine, right?

I'm leaving again. See you all in a few weeks.

Satisfying.

I generally like the music that Fall Out Boy puts out there. Are they the best band on the planet? No. But they're pretty good.
My estimation of them skyrocketed this morning, however. Getting ready for work (I taught kindergarten today, which was as hilarious and wonderful as ever) I was watching MTV. I caught Fall Out Boy's new single, "I Don't Care." If you haven't seen it, it features the band members pulling off masks--their faces--to reveal other people. It's not bad.

Not bad?, you're thinking. How generic. Why is she writing about something 'not bad'? Because this video earned some major Twin Excellence Points at the end. Why?

Pete Wentz gets punched in the face and falls to the ground. The twin, who happens to loathe Pete Wentz (don't get her started) finds much joy in this. But then, it gets so much better. Whoever did the punching pulls up Pete's face (not as gross as it sounds) to reveal the aptly-named Spencer Pratt, of Hills notoriety. (If you're unsure about him, he is quite honestly the biggest douchebag in at least his ZIP code, is half of a seriously dysfunctional relationship, and is nowhere near as attractive as he thinks he is.) YAY! Spencer got punched in the face! It could only be better if yours truly got to do the punching! (Pratt is one of my Top Five Celebrities I'd Like to Punch in the Face. Who are yours?)

Well done, Fall Out Boy. Well done.