BYOD

So here is the deal.  Schools are allowing kids to bring their electronics into the classroom.  Let me repeat that (can you tell what kind of teacher I am going to be?).  KIDS ARE ALLOWED TO BRING THEIR ELECTRONIC DEVICES TO SCHOOL WITH THEM!  Okay, here is my opinion.  Seriously?  Don’t we think they are already distracted enough?  

This middle schoolers have so much on their minds, and we feel as though this will smooth it all over and make life easier on everyone.  SO with that said, each kid has their Ipad, Iphone, Nook, Kindle, and MacBook sitting out on their desk.  

The theory behind this is we should be using these devices as teaching tools and move towards the technology advancements that are happening around us.  With that said, let me give you the real scoop...in my opinion, of course.    

It points out who has money and who doesn’t.  It points out what kids are over privileged and which are lucky to have a pencil with them that day.  It is completely a status thing.  America has these kids so excessively spoiled, it is ridiculous.  

My specialty is English.  Kids are required to bring books to class everyday so that they can do SSR (sustained silent reading).  In my first period class there are 17 kids.  About 6 of them have books.  The others are reading on their Ipads, nooks, and phones.  Does this seem fair to you?  To me this seems to be a rule that applies to the rich only.  In other classes, the kids are free to use them to do research, type papers, and look up information...

Besides stating the obvious (pointing out who can afford the newest technology and who can’t), it also creeps up on another issue.

Some parents have made the decision that they don’t want their 12 years olds having free access to the internet.  WELCOME TO THE REAL WORLD!  The Chief and I JUST caved last year and bought the little man a cell phone and laptop.  Now, with that said, I want to make it clear that he isn’t allowed to take either to school, and both are taken away from him every evening at 8 pm.  AND, to top that off, if he is having ANY problems in school, he gets them taken away.  So basically, in the year the Little Man has had these...he has only actually had them in his possession for the two and a half months of summer :)  Yes, welcome to my world...  

We are very strict with things like access to the internet.  He can’t even get on his laptop without an adult in the room.  It is locked with a password, that he doesn’t know.  He isn’t allowed to take it to his room, IF he gets on it, it is in the same room as us, where we can see his screen at all times.  AND, imagine this...his phone doesn’t even HAVE internet access (did you know they even made phones like that anymore?)!  We are not one of these parents that give their children free reign to do as they please.  I don’t think we are the only parents out there like this.  If this is you too, then guess what?  The school is making a mockery of your decision as a parent. 

This whole thing rubs me the wrong way.  Now our kids come home and beg and plead even more because EVERY kid has one and brings it to class.  I can hear it now: MOOOMMMM, I am the ONLY kid that doesn’t have one!  I have to read a stupid book made of paper!!  I am the biggest dork ever!!  PLEASSSSSEEEEEEE buy me one!!  

How marvelous is that?  You can thank the school districts.  Let’s point out the kids that have all the money, and make it EVEN more obvious.  As if moms pulling up in Navigators isn’t enough.  Lets show all the kids, who can afford nice things, and who can’t.  Let’s call out the parents that have made the personal decision to hold off on cell phones and laptops.  

These kids DO NOT need to bring their cell phones to class.  They can read the good old paperback books, and they can use the school’s computer lab to do any work that requires internet.  I get that it is important to keep up with technology, but I think we are a few years too early on this one.

My Hometown

I want to start off by saying this:  The blond BFF said to me last night, "You haven't blogged in forever...a TRUE blogger would blog on the toilet."

So here is my blog...I will try harder to do more.

I have started probably five blogs since I last blogged.  I am funny with writing.  I blog when I feel passionate about something going on in my life.  Currently, nothing has stood out.  I am in Texas doing my student teaching, and life has gotten busy very fast.  

This whole thing is extremely bitter sweet to me.  I moved to Connecticut in January, knowing that I would be coming back for three months of student teaching.  I feel as though I was almost holding my breath for those 9 months in Connecticut.  I feel as though I didn’t really absorb the fact that I no longer live in Texas.  I moved to Connecticut in January.  The parents stayed with us the first month in Connecticut to help us get settled.  I had a trip planned back to Texas in the last week of January (so I wasn’t even gone three weeks, before I got to come back and visit).  In March, I took ANOTHER week trip back to Texas.  Then in April, the blond BFF came to see me for a week.  In May, the brunette BFF came to see me for a week.  At the end of May, the Chief’s BFF came to visit us for a week.  The parents also came back at the end of April and stayed until the end of May.  Then right before I came back to Texas, ANOTHER close friend of mine also came to visit.  So basically, life was busy.  I had enough to look forward to with friends and family coming to visit me, and with my trips planned back to Texas.  I felt like there was always a light at the end of that tunnel, so I didn’t let my spirits drop.  Now, I am here back in Texas...for three wonderful months.  

So far these weeks have been wonderful.  I have my calendar booked with spending time with my loved ones.  I took for granted all the things I had around me when I lived in Frisco...I won’t make that mistake again.  I have enjoyed running to the grocery store, running to the mall, driving to see my sister and her kids, and driving to spend time with friends.  I am truly blessed.  

I also started going back to my church (the church I went to in Frisco before I left).  Walking in, I felt this wave of relief overcome me.  I stood there, by myself in a room full of people, and felt like I was “home” again.  I wasn’t close to these people, but the pastor is amazing, and has touched me in many ways over the years.  This was the icing to my cupcake.  The first service I attended, we are all standing there and singing.  I couldn’t even sing, because my eyes were so full of tears that I couldn’t see the screen.  I don’t know why I was crying...but I do have a thought.  

I have searched for church homes in Connecticut.  I have tried a total of 3 churches, and my mom has tried 2 other churches for me.  I feel as though God is missing from the state.  None of the churches fit my bill.  When I ask if they have a youth group they respond, “yes!”  I ask how many kids are in it, and they respond, “two”.  What is wrong with this state?  Where are the churches hiding?  This Sunday, my Frisco pastor said something important that has stuck with me all week.  Church is not a place, Church is the people.  YOU are church.  I still don’t know where this is going, but I can feel it working on me.  I feel lost in Connecticut.  I don’t feel like it is my home.  It is all very foreign to me.  I haven’t made any true connections.  No one has invited me out for coffee.  Am I that terrible?  Am I that unlikable?  Why can’t I make friends?  What is wrong with me?  Why am I having so many problems accepting this is my new home?  

Being in Texas has only made me miss it more.  This is so hard for people to understand.  Texas is all I know.  Everything I am comfortable with is in Texas.  If you know me, you know I am as square as they come.  I don’t go outside my box.  I don’t venture and try new things.  I want what I want, when I want it.  My BFF’s could go with me to ANY restaurant and they could pick up the menu and order for me.  I NEVER go outside my box.  I am completely predictable.  Picking up and moving wasn’t an option for me.  The Chief finally got, a much needed and much deserved promotion.  I couldn’t take his dreams and set them on the back burner.  Part of a marriage is being together and making sacrifices for each other.  I love this man with all my heart.  I would follow him where ever he wants to go.  With that said...keep this in mind.  He has lived in many states.  He was never tied down to an area for all his life, so moving didn’t impact him like it did me.  

Being in Texas only lets me breathe easy.  I am here and there are two things I miss as of right this moment.  My love, and my Little Man.  That’s it.  How will I ever grow to love an area outside of my Texas box?

You're in the wrong spot lady

I finally took my first trip back to Connecticut this past weekend.  Let me tell you how it started.  I woke up Saturday morning in Texas EARLY.  The blond BFF was taking me to the airport, and we had to leave the house by 6:30.  I came out of my room and had to go through the kids play room in order to head down the stairs.  There is a digital clock on the shelf that read the wrong time.  I glanced at it and this is what time it said: 9:11.  Okay, scary right?  So I head down the stairs...

We are driving to the airport and I realize my cell phone didn’t charge the night before, so I borrowed Blond BFF’s car charger.  I plug it in and we get carried away in conversation (do you see where this is going?)  We pull up to the airport, I grab my stuff and say my goodbyes and start heading indoors.  Not even ten steps, and I realize I left my cell phone plugged into her car.  I turn around and run back to the street as she is pulling away.  I drop my suitcase and run after her car with my arms flailing, screaming at the top of my lungs for her to stop.  She doesn’t see me.  THANKFULLY, someone ahead of me does and waves at her to stop.  I catch up to her, now sweating and shaking because I can’t imagine life for five minutes without my phone.  I grabbed my phone, and hugged it to my chest...not caring about the traffic jam my abandoned suitcase was causing in the middle of the road.  I jog back to my suitcase while lecturing to my phone about how it is a serious crime to hide from me.  I head inside and make it over to the kiosk where I need to print my ticket.  I do the whole process and wait patiently for my ticket to print.  When it does, I quickly take it and head to security. 

“Ma’am, Ma’am...you forgot your other ticket!” 

I turn around and realize it printed out my connecting flight too.  So I thank the stranger and take my ticket from her.  I turn around to go back to security, and for some reason my legs decide they are going to disown me.  Bastards.  I trip over my whole suitcase, and fly forward landing on my stomach.  So now, here I am...sweating and shaking from my cell phone episode, and now I am laying on the ground...ON MY STOMACH in the disgusting airport.  Trying to not think about all the diseases I have just caught by touching the carpet with every exposed part of my body, I quickly get up as gracefully as I can.  Of course everyone at the airport saw my frantic tumble and was staring at me...I was suddenly having flashbacks of falling in the hallway in the 6th grade with my books flying past me while everyone pointed and laughed.  I grabbed my suitcase and tried not to make eye contact with anyone.  I made my way through security, and to my plane.  The Chief checked me in and got me a B2 seat.  

If you haven’t flown Southwest, you don’t know they have a dummy-proof procedure for getting people on the plane.  You have either an A, B, or C on your ticket.  Next to your letter, you have a number 1-60.  At the Southwest gates, they have it set up where you stand by your number (they have them grouped in 5).  Are you following me?  So after the call the A’s, it is time for the B’s to line up.  I walk over to B2 and ask the lady standing there if she is number one.  She looked at me and said, “hugh?”  

I said, “Your number, is it number one?  I don’t want to stand in front of you if it isn’t number one.”  Lets take a moment to remember the Type A personality that consumes me.  Everything must be in order.  I like to be first.  So I am not going to stand there and let a B3 stand in front of me when I am clearly a B2.  She just stares at me.  She is holding her ticket, and I try and look at it as she flips it over to the wrong side.  I said, “actually, your number is on the other side...here let me help you.”  I snatch the paper from her and flipped it over.  “Ouch...your actually a B54....that means you have to go to the very end on the other side.”  I point the direction she needs to head.  She doesn’t move.  Another man walks up, trying to detect who has what number.  He goes to stand behind her and I quickly say, “Actually Sir, you are in front of her because she is a B54.  She is in the wrong spot.”  I say it loud enough to attract attention from the onlookers who quickly look at her as if she is covered with deadly contagious skin lesions.  Ladies and Gentlemen, I take these numbers very seriously.  It doesn’t get easier than this.  Are you really that stupid or are you just upset because your number isn’t as good as mine?  She is lucky I didn’t go ape shit on her for having THREE carry-on bags instead of two (the Chiefs BFF would be proud of me right now).  So she hangs her head and makes her way to the back as far away from the angry stares as possible.  I breath a sigh of relief feeling as though I have done a good deed.  

I get on the plane, choosing my isle seat carefully.  My goal here is to not get stuck by seatbelt-extension-needed passenger.  The challenge is this: My initial reaction is to sit in the isle seat that has someone my age by the window.  WRONG.  Can’t do that because then you will get a 300 pound man that is going to squeeze his way in between us, hoping to score.  So my safest bet is to sit on the isle seat that has a bigger guy sitting next to the window.  This will make it hard for 300 pound man to sit in the middle because he doesn’t want to be fondling a dude on the flight with his under-the-armrest chub.  So I find the perfect seat, and sit down.  

Just when I think I am safe and clear, a pregnant woman sits down next to me.  Okay, this may not be so bad.  I attempt to look completely engrossed in my book, so I don’t have to make small talk.  She obviously didn’t notice.  She asked me if she was supposed to change flights to get to Albuquerque.  She explains she has never flown before, so I tried to be pleasant and help her out.  I look at her information and tell her she does get off at the next stop and switch plans.  Then, I thought I would extend an even softer hand and ask her when her baby is due.  

“I’m. Not. Pregnant.”  

Excellent, I thought to myself.  Just when I thought this day couldn’t get any worse.  I apologized quickly.  

“That’s okay, I actually have a tumor so it looks like I am,” she said quietly.    

I apologized again and then looked back down at my book and remained silent the rest of the flight. 

And you wonder why I hate flying.  It NEVER goes smoothly for me.