Thursday, February 28, 2013

This time of year sucks

It really does.
Teachers, especially lower grades, feel the pressure of the upcoming testing season. It is open season on my stress and anxiety. Thankfully I have wonderful administrators and co-workers. It truly is the nature of the beast.
I have almost stopped and deleted this post 3 times already because I am so overwhelmed by it all. I really, really worry about my kids every year, this year is especially bad. They are a low group,  I started late, and my support teacher is often sick.

I just want to do everything right by them.

I feel like I am failing...

Sunday, February 24, 2013

Q #2

Do you like your handwriting?
Yes. When I take my time and have a good pen- great handwriting. When I am working on a real white board with a good marker- great handwriting. On the smart board? NO. That, so far, is the only downside to having this great technology. It makes it very difficult to write neatly. It is much easier to write in cursive on the smartboard, but hardly any of my kids can read cursive any more. Sad right?
It is supposed to be taught in 3rd grade, reenforced in 4th grade and required in 5th. Yeah right. There are far more important and legitimate things to be teaching. It really is a dying art anyway. Sad to say so, but in this age of technology no one is going to turn in a handwritten paper past grade school.

Yes, I like my handwriting, does it matter? Not really. Not anymore.

Friday, February 22, 2013


A while ago I posted about the changes in life that we see as we get older. One of those was divorce.
I have a friend who recently separated from her husband. She did the right thing. It was a long time coming and despite her best efforts she needed to leave. He was verbally abusive and did not put his family above his insecurities. Josh Brolin and Dianne Lane are divorcing also. Hollywood is a special place. Where divorce is simply an option. I have no view into their personal lives. I can imagine Hollywood marriages are wrought with abuse. These are people of great power and great insecurities. Those two things make jealousy vicious. I don't think anyone should stay in a marriage that makes them unhappy, truly unhappy. Never going to be happy again, unhappy. I grew up with most of my friends had divorced parents. My parents stayed married until my mother became a widow. One of my best friend growing up her parents are still married.  Another came from divorced parents, but her mother remarried before I met her and has had a long and successful second marriage. The hubby's parent's are still married, happily so.
I heard once that children of divorced parents are likely to divorced themselves. I hate statistics like that. It gives people an excuse. "Oh well, my parents divorced too, it was bound to happen." I know people think like this because every year I hear "I know, It is ok, I was bad at Math too." EVERY YEAR. No, no it is not ok. That is a soap box I am going to avoid right now.
I feel for my friend who just moved into her own place. I don't pity her, no. She is an incredibly strong and independent person who does not deserve "pity" or for someone to "feel sorry" for her. She wouldn't like that. Instead I feel for her emotionally. The little bit she has told me has to only be the tip of the iceberg.
I feel that they were mismatched from the beginning. She is incredibly intelligent and ambitious and he is not. She is fiercely supportive of the people she loves, he is selfish. She is acutely aware of her actions and how they affect the people around her. He has no idea how his actions ripple out and affect everyone around him.

This brings me to my own husband. This experience of seeing the inside of an imploding relationship has made me so very grateful and aware how kind and loving my own husband is. When my sister in law was still in her dating time she dated a lot of fools. Absolute fools. All good looking fools. That is not to say my hubby isn't good looking. I certainly think so, I am quite attracted ti him.  I told her when she was complaining once that "Justin would never do that." Her response is "I am never going to find a guy like my brother, why look?" I told her then, "If you are looking for someone like your brother, be willing to wait for it." She looked at me like I was nuts. She didn't wait, in fact, she ended up with someone like her dad. How cliche. Right? The same things she used to complain about her dad, she now complains about in her hubby. I can say, he is a very kind and loyal person. His flaws are sports and beer related, nothing that can not be overcome. He loves her and their son so very much and it is very obvious. They are simply young and navigating in a tough situation. I have to say they are doing very well at it too.

My own husband is very intelligent and kind. He has quickly moved through the ranks and is now in a management position. Everyone who works for him and with him loves him. Rightly so. He expresses concern for his employees and their families, he encourages a kind work environment, he is considerate of their needs and situations, he handles problems with grace positivity and he prays. All of the characteristics he displays at work he truly embodies. He is all of those things with me and our boys and with my mom. As a rule, he is non confrontational, but he will if he has to. He doesn't hide from it. He is SOOOOOOO good to me. He has never put me down. Never called me a name. Never let things get too far. He is always willing talk through things. Of course he isn't perfect, but God doesn't do it that way.

Sunday, February 17, 2013


Do you remember back to the days of aol and e-mail as the primary source of electronic communication? You would get these chain e-mails with a gazillion questions about you? Well,  has decided to post one question at a time, and answer. So I thought it would be fun to do the same.

So I already addressed this shortly in my inaugural post. But, I could give more. My father's mother was Elizabeth and they called her Betty. I really think I would have loved being called Betty, but my grandfather remarried after he death and my parents (my mom really) did not want to offend the woman I knew as Grandma. In the years since, I have learned that my Dad really didn't care for his step mom and would have lept at the opportunity to piss her off. So if he had it his way, I would be Betty. As it came about I was called Beth. My grandpa always called me Bet. I assumed it was his old man Chicago accent that changed the ending, but maybe he was calling me Bet as in short for Betty. I will never know. Growing up with about a thousand "Beths" (thanks in no small part to a new version of Little Women being released shortly before my brith) I was yearning for some individuality. When I went to college I changed my nick name to Eliza. It was really easy. At orientation, I asked for a new name tag that said Eliza, and it all fell into place. The problem with this really came after college when I reintegrated into a community that knew me as Beth and Eliza... I really wish I had just switched back to Beth after college. It would be a lot easier. OR changed to Eliza in High School when we moved here. oh well... 

My middle name is Harriett. I was named after my Father's cousin and my God mother.  Overall my name is very Brittish and Regal sounding. Elizabeth Harriet. My maiden name kinda screws that up though. Mrazek. 

So was I name after anyone? Yes- very much so.  

Wednesday, February 13, 2013

BS- I call BS

I saw an article on FB about how the latest Sports Illustrated model was being called "border line chunky." I call BS. A healthy curvy woman is soooo much more attractive to men than super skinny with rock hard implant hanging off the bones.

Gaaaawd- You get shit for being "A tractor sized hippo" and " borderline chunky" but in real life I always took shit for being skinny. There really is no winning. Women can't win. It is bs.

The 19th amendment is given one sentence in my students social studies book. ONE SENTENCE. Women get the right to vote 40 years after slaves were given the same right. With the risk of sounding racist I have to ask REALLY?! People who were considered cattle and simply property were granted the right to make political decisions before women... As horrible as slavery was I just can't get over it. Men (you know, who made the laws) had so little faith in the intelligence and strength of women that they chose to give the right to vote to former property first. Now, I don't think black people are any less deserving, and I am incredibly impressed at the swiftness they received their vote.

Let's go back to what set this off. One sentence in my social studies book. ONE- there is not enough emphasis I can put on this word to show my rage. I started off my lesson by asking the kids if they knew the idom "On my soap box" or "Getting off my soap box" Some did. I explained the history of "soap box" I then explained that I was going to get ON my soap box. I told them some of the more mild things that happened to women who tried to vote and get the vote. There are many things I left out because their poor little 5th grad psyches don't need to know about the torture and rape.  But they did need to know about being put in jail, being divorced, being shunned in public places, they needed to be shocked. They needed to be inspired to become registered, informed voters.

I kindly stepped off my soap box to shocked faces and hopefully some inspired girls. One can only hope.

The funny thing is, I am not really a feminist. I like to be taken care of. I like my car door opened. I like wearing my bra, I like letting my husband be the head of the household.

But I am. I have a career that is important. I am raising boys to be independent and self sufficient. I get bent out of shape about women's rights. I am a registered republican- but my own party pisses me off when it comes to women. SOOOOOO much. So maybe I am.

Identity crisis? Nah

Sunday, February 10, 2013


I don't have a whole lot of one thing, but a lot of little things.

Saw a man at the Wal-mart pharmacy who looked like my dad. Really, his hair looked like my dad's hair. About the same height and same build. It made me incredibly sad.

I got to hang out with an old friend on a road trip. It was so very nice to catch up.

I am surrounded by balloons. Elmo head balloons. Everywhere. Disembodied Elmos. Parenthood.

Nails- I need to do my nails.

I am really loving How I Met Your Mother on Netflix.

There is no good chocolate in the house.

I am just realizing that these are a bunch of FB posts...

bah- bah I say