Today was my first day of the new schoolyear back behind the teacher’s desk. I gave the high school kids their English worksheets, threatened them at regular intervals with a bad sub report for talking/not doing their work/using their cell phones/throwing things, and caught up on my online reading.
I learned, courtesy of Time Magazine‘s website, that teenagers are angry, explosive people prone to frequent fights. Seriously, they had a whole article on the subject. Research and everything. I read that there are now more normal-weight Americans than overweight Americans, a statistic which may possibly be due to 1) our increased awareness of the fact that we are (were?) fat or 2) Michelle Obama’s Let’s Move! campaign. Ok, there were more reasons listed in the actual article, but I stopped at that one because I thought Really? In three years one woman who is known primarily for her toned biceps reversed a decades-long, steadily increasing, detrimental health trend? Call me skeptical, but I ain’t buyin’ that.
The author then stated that the data might be skewed because the information used was self-reported. You don’t say? People dishonestly self-report their weight to the DMV person looking at them who knows they’re lying; why in the world would they treat an anonymous survey with any more honesty? Sheesh!
One gal with a big belly recently ran the Chicago Marathon, grabbed a sandwich, drove to the hospital and delivered a healthy, full-term 7-pound baby girl. Quote of the week: “Of course, my feet hurt!” Side note: She completed the race faster than her (non-pregnant) husband.
In the midst of my catching up on the nation’s gossip, in walked a school staff member with a bouquet of flowers. My first thought was Oh, how pretty! And just for me! followed by I’m never again telling Jim where I’m working as I felt my face become hotter than a greenhouse tomato. About the same color, too.
I recovered my wits, took roll, and finished my day with a lovely-smelling vase full of fresh-cut roses, reddish-biggish flowers, smaller-darker-redder flowers, and orange really-neat-looking flowers on my desk. I don’t know the proper flower names (obviously), but Jim said he called the flower shop and told them “Anything but carnations.” He did good 🙂 He also pointed out to me that, even though I blushed furiously in front of 20+ people, delivery is still a nicer gesture than driving to the florist’s and picking them up myself.
I felt like a high schooler walking through the halls after class with my flowers. I wonder if he’ll ask me to prom?