The Crock Pot Catastrophe

Dear Hamilton Beach,

I received one of your crock pots for my wedding four years ago.  My husband and I had registered for your fantastic programmable, multi-setting, futuristic fobuloso model with the built in handle, and one of our friends or relatives was kind enough to buy it for us.  Since then, I've used it a lot.  Until today, it's been great.  It's been the best crock pot ever.  It's been a "pass-this-down-to-your-grandchildren-as-long-as-something-cooler-hasn't-been-invented-yet" crock pot.  I had visions of myself teaching the younger generations my recipes for chicken tortilla soup or buffalo chicken and saying, "This is the same crock pot I used when I first botched these recipes fifty years ago."

Alas, Hamilton Beach.  It wasn't to be.

Today, I was cooking a dinner for my in-laws.  Do you have in-laws, Hamilton Beach worker?  Because if you do, you understand the importance of making a good dinner when they come over.  I put the meal in the crock pot when I left for work in the morning, and when I got home from work I walked over to it to check on the food.  I put my hand on the lid to lift it, and....

BOOOOOM!
CRASH!
SHATTER!
AAAAAAAAAHHHHEEEEEEEE!!

(that last sound effect was me, not the crock pot)

The lid of the crock pot exploded into a thousand shards of glittering glass that rained down on me, my kitchen, and my carefully prepared meal.  I'm having some post-traumatic stress just thinking about it.  The lid literally exploded.  If I hadn't recoiled in mortal terror, I could have gotten a shard of glass in my EYE.  Then I'd be sitting in a hospital bed calling a lawyer instead of writing this letter, and also shopping on Amazon for fashionable eye patches.  Also possibly looking at a career switch into piracy, but that's neither here nor there.

THE POINT IS - there are only two logical explanations for why my crock pot exploded today:

1. There was some sort of manufacturing defect
2. Someone is trying to kill me

Now, you and I don't know each other very well, Hamilton Beach worker, but I'm a very likable person.  I don't have many enemies.  There was this one time in elementary school where I won "queen of the playground" and the girl I beat out wasn't too happy about it, but that was fifteen years ago so I'm pretty sure she's over it.  We're actually friends now.  I didn't flunk any students this semester, so none of them are seeking revenge.  Oh, did I mention I'm a teacher?  A TEACHER.  Who hates teachers?  No one.  Who wants to kill teachers for their vast amounts of money?  DEFINITELY NO ONE.  So see?  It wasn't an attempt on my life.  Therefore, it was definitely a manufacturing defect.  I'm not sure exactly what.....but something is wrong.  Maybe one of your workers stuffed a time-bomb in one of your products and set it for four years out.  Who knows?  Basically, I'm an unhappy customer.  You should know that selling products that explode is bad business (unless of course you're selling grenades or bombs, which you are not).  I would like a refund or a new slow cooker, but definitely not the same one I just had.  I wouldn't be able to use it without running screaming from the kitchen every time it's time to check the food.  *shudder*

Anyway, let me know what you can do.  In the mean time, I'll be eating fast food and contemplating whether or not I can sue for getting fat since I couldn't eat my home-cooked meal.

Sincerely,
Christine

Empty Nest

I think teaching is a small shadow of parenting.  I know the love I have for my students is nothing compared to how much their parents love them, but I think it could be compared to a shadow of the real thing.  Actually, I've decided that the whole concept of a school year mimics the parenting process.  I have to go through all of the emotional ups and downs of the 18+ year process in one nine-month span.  Observe:

Nesting:  Parents make a nursery full of cutesy themes and fun furniture.  They decorate and try to make everything perfect for their new little arrival.  Teachers also have to decide on classroom themes and do a bunch of decorating in preparation for the new year of students.  Both groups utilize a lot of Pinterest ideas.

First Day:  This is pretty self-explanatory.  Parents have an exciting day of birth that's exhausting and exciting and terrifying all at once.  Those are the same three words I would use to describe the first day of school.

No Sleep Stage:  Common in the beginning of a new parent's life, this happens at the beginning of the school year too.  September is always a blur of lesson plans, getting to know new parents, staying late, arriving early, and generally dedicating your life to the group of kids in your care this year.  It's a 24/7 job for that first month, and I'm always looking forward to October.

Kids Love You Stage:  Toddlers and elementary-aged students tend to think that their parents can do no wrong.  They frequently say "I love you" and fear parental disappointment more than anything else. At the beginning of the school year, students are so excited to have a new teacher that virtually everything the teacher does is "awesome" and "fun."  The teacher is like a shiny new toy that the kids got for Christmas, and they haven't figured out all of the gadgets on it yet.  They're eager to please and eager to see what kind of fabulous lesson plan the teacher will think up next.

Kids Hate You Stage:  For parents, this rebellious stage usually hits in the teenage years.  For teachers, it usually hits around Spring Break.  Kids decide that they're sick of school, it's time for summer, and the same homework you've been assigning all year is suddenly "so hard" and "completely ridiculous."  Teachers too are a bit tired by this time, but they have to buckle down and regain control in order to power through their curriculum by the end of the year.  Both students and teachers start countdowns to summer.

Empty Nester: Right at the end of the school year, when the summer they've been counting down to finally arrives, teachers get a little bit sad.  After all, they've invested in these kids all year.  They've cheered for their victories and been heartbroken by their defeats.  They've walked by them through their struggles.  They've watched these students grow in multiple ways, and now it's time to watch them move on.  This is like when parents have to watch their kids go off to college, realizing that their baby grew up and praying that they've done enough to help that baby be successful at the next stage in life.  It's a victory in a way, but it's still sad.

I'm in the "empty nester" stage of the school year right now, and it's a bit sad.  Okay fine, very sad.  It's my least favorite stage.  The last day of school is always my least favorite day of the year.  It's tough to watch my kids move on.  Unlike an empty nester parent, I have no guarantee that I will be able to keep up with these students or find out what they decide to do with their lives.  Actually, there's a very good chance that I will never know.  Students always promise to write and call and keep in touch, but they never do.  I mean, think about it - how many of your K-8 teachers are you still in contact with?  Those teachers INVESTED in you.  They LOVED you.  Don't you think you should say, "Hey, thanks for helping me out"?  I've gone back and written to a couple of my old teachers since I became a teacher, just because I know how much it would mean to me if an old student of mine wrote and said that I actually made a difference in their life.  Maybe that will happen one day; who knows.   For today, though, it's sad.  I lost some really cool kids this year.  This was easily my best-ever teaching year, and I got really close with those kids.  They move on to high school next year, so they won't be in my building anymore.  There's a solid chance that I won't see a lot of them ever again.  That is seriously so sad (have I overused the word "sad" yet?).  Do me a favor - go find an old teacher who made a difference in your life, and thank them for it.  They spent a lot of time caring about you, and I'm sure they'd love to hear how you're doing.