Rat Story (Continued)

Just to give you an update...this post should be read after my previous post entitled "Fugitive."

The rats did not escape again while I was observing them at my apartment, but I was still too nervous to take them back to school. My close call had been WAY too close. I wanted to wait until I had a new cage to take them back.

My kids obviously missed the rats right away and kept asking me about them. I told them that I took the rats to my apartment for a while but would bring them back. Even though this is totally true, I do not usually do this so it aroused suspicion with my students. I had multiple students come up to me privately and say, "The rats died, didn't they? You can tell me...I can handle it." (as their eyes are welling up with tears). I promised them that they didn't die, but as the week wore on my arguments grew weaker. Still, I was not about to admit that one had gotten loose. Gossip like that would zip around the school almost as fast as the rumor that I was pregnant (not sure who started that one...but it was totally annoying. Someone said they saw me puking in the bathroom, which I so did not, but I guess that meant I was pregnant).

On Thursday, a girl brought in her pet hedgehog as part of a presentation she was doing in my class. She put in on the table where the rats usually sit, and all of the students freaked out. "WE GOT A HEDGEHOG! SHE REPLACED THE RATS! I KNEW THEY DIED!!" I explained that the hedgehog was just for a project and that the rats were still FINE, just on vacation at my apartment.

Finally this weekend I got them a new cage, and the rats are going back to school with me tomorrow. I am so excited to finally prove that I wasn't lying and that the rats are fine. Silly kids. Those rats had better not die tonight, or my students are never going to trust me again.

Fugitive

The first sign that something was horribly wrong came when I walked into my classroom and saw one of my papers shredded into tiny bits on the floor.

The second sign that something was horribly wrong came when I noticed a small pile of rodent-like droppings in the corner by the door.

The third sign - and the one that made me KNOW what was horribly wrong, came when I suspiciously went to go check on the classroom rats. Haiku looked up at me with her big round beady eyes. It's almost as if she was saying, "What? I didn't do anything! I'm just sitting here being good! Don't be mad!" Limerick was...nowhere to be found. I frantically looked under the igloo and in every possible hiding place in the cage (which didn't take long), and I was sure that Limerick was missing.

My first thought was, "Oh crap. I am so fired. I am so very VERY fired." I could just picture myself explaining that one to my boss: "Um...so I lost a rat...it's probably running around the school somewhere..." Aaaaaaah! There's really no good way to spin that to make me sound NOT psycho.

My second thought was, "Okay, DO NOT PANIC. There are thirty minutes until the students get here...I have thirty minutes to find the rat, or it's back to my first thought: so so so very fired."

Because I know rats quite well (not sure if that's a good thing or not...but it's true), I knew that as soon as I turned on the lights in my classroom, the rat probably ran to the nearest dark corner...that is, assuming the rat was still in my room. I have had some unfortunate previous experience with escaped rats that taught me rats usually stay pretty close to the place where they escaped from, so I clung to the hope that Limerick had spent the weekend partying in my classroom and not going too far. It was really the only shot I had.

I began searching every nook and cranny of my classroom for the little rodent fugitive. I hit paydirt in the corner behind the lunch basket where kids keep their lunch boxes. I saw a little furry blob rustling in the discarded ziploc bags, and I tried to speak calmly to convince Limerick to crawl close enough for me to catch her. It was tough to speak calmly when really I wanted to scream for joy, "AH HA! PERHAPS I WILL STILL HAVE A JOB AT THE END OF TODAY!!!" Instead, I practically whispered, "Hi, Sweet little ratty...want to come with me?"

Of course she didn't want to come with me. Life could never be so easy. The little bugger got startled and zipped across the room like a furry bullet. The chase was on.

I ran over to my classroom library where Limerick tried to hide between some bookshelves. I lunged for her tail, but she dodged and ran away again. I searched under my reading corner pillows and in between books, but I'd lost her. Blast!

After a few more minutes of frantic search, I discovered my little friend cowering underneath my bookshelf. Because I was afraid to startle her again, I set up a barricade with books around every possible escape route before I approached her. When I finally tried to catch her, the only way she could escape was to run straight at me. As she zipped towards my legs, presumably to try to dodge between them, I grabbed her tail and pulled her back as she continued trying to run (she looked as if she was running on a treadmill on my floor).

I picked Limerick up by her tail and cradled her in my arms as I took her back to her cage. I scolded her and told her to never do that again, but I don't think she really got the idea. I put her back in with her sister, and Limerick seemed to be relieved to be back in a place with food and water. Haiku immediately began cleaning Limerick and snuggling her as if to say, "I missed you, sister!" It was actually kind of cute.

The mystery remains: how did Limerick get out? The cage has not been damaged in any way, and the door was closed when I arrived at school this morning. My only hypothesis is that she squeezed through a tiny spot where one of the wires is broken, but it has been broken all year and the hole is only about a half-inch wide. It makes no sense! I brought the cage (and rats) home from school to observe them more closely, and also because I didn't want to lose one of them again. I think I'll have to buy a new cage before I bring them back to school again.

This morning certainly was a close call - it gave my heart a jump start before the students came in. They say all's well that end's well, though, and I'm happy to say that this story has a happy ending (so far...that little stinker had better not try to escape tonight, or our cat's not going to keep the ending so happy.) The hole is blocked for now, I hope...assuming that's where she escaped.

Oh crap. This story isn't over, is it?

Date Night

Rex has been super busy with school lately, so we haven't been able to spend a lot of time together. This weekend is awesome, though, because not only do we get to go to the LAS VEGAS PET EXPO today, but also Rex took me out to dinner last night!

The hilarity actually started before dinner, when I stopped by the bathroom before we went into the buffet at Sunset Station (it's delicious, by the way). There was a cleaning lady in there cleaning the bathroom, but there were also other women in there using it so I figured it was not a big deal. I went into the stall to do my business, and I noticed that the cleaning lady started sweeping out each individual stall. When she got to my stall, she obviously couldn't clean in there because, you know, it was occupied. Instead of waiting the one minute for me to finish, though, she shoved the broom under the stall door and started sweeping around my feet! Ahhh! It was so awkward and weird. Crazy cleaning lady!

The fun didn't stop when we got to dinner. After waiting in line for about twenty minutes, we finally got our seats. As we were waiting for the waiter to take our drink order, I said, "I really appreciate you taking the time to go out with me. I know you've been really busy - it must be tough to be in grad school and be married at the same time." The man at the table next to us was obviously eavesdropping, so I went on to add, "And PLUS, on TOP of being married, you still make time for me, your girlfriend! I really don't know how you do it all." The man looked very alarmed and kind of glared at us. Rex just looked really confused. HAHAHAHAHAHA! When we finally got up to get our food I explained the situation...but it was funny.

I decided that I would like some stir-fry for dinner. They have a great stir-fry station at the buffet that is kind of like bd's Mongolian Barbecue. I walked up to the station and said to the Asian man working there, "Hello, I would like to have some stir-fry, please!" He said, "Okay, but first you pick your wedgie." I laughed nervously and just stood there, hoping he would start making my food. He stared at me as if I was an idiot and said, "YOU MUST PICK YOUR WEDGIE!" I looked confused, I'm sure. Was this a funny joke where the guy was from? I cautiously looked over my shoulder at my pants...as I already knew, I had no wedgie. What was this man talking about?! Finally, he motioned to the display of vegetable options and practically yelled, "YOUR WEDGIES!!" Then I got it - he wanted me to choose my "veggies." AH! I was so embarrassed, but I know I'm not the first person who didn't understand him. What a goofy circumstance.

So pretty much, I spent a huge portion of the night laughing...but that's what makes a good date night, right? It was a fun time, and I'm just sad that Rex is back to studying now. :-(

Beagle Tag

I got home from school before Rex today - whoo hoo! Even though there is a sink full of dishes and laundry to be done, I have neglected them in favor of something far more important: playing tag with Elvis, our beagle.

To be honest with you, the only reason I'm writing this blog is because I wanted to signal to Elvis somehow that our game is over, and he doesn't bother me when I'm on the computer. Now he's curled up on the couch taking a nap. Awww...

He's taking a nap because he's tired. We've been playing tag for the past half-hour. Good thing there's not anyone living in the apartment underneath ours, because we have been running and jumping around like a couple of crazies. Elvis is a pretty good tag player. He does all the ducking and dodging of a skilled first grader. He kept trying to bite my scarf, but obviously that doesn't count as making me "it" because he didn't actually tag ME. He wasn't getting that, so I took off the scarf and the game ran much more smoothly.

About twenty minutes into playing, Elvis wanted a drink. He gave me a look that I swear said, "Drink break. Do NOT try to come catch me," and then he sauntered over to his dish. I walked into the kitchen too, thinking I could use a drink as well, and he jumped away from his dish and glared at me as if to say, "WE'RE ON A DRINK BREAK! NO FAIR! GO AWAY!" Then he realized I wasn't actually trying to get him, and he went back to his drink. When we were finished with our drinks, we started chasing each other again.

After I was finished playing, I laid down on the ground and said, "Elvis, aren't you tired? Let's be done." He stayed away at first but then crept cautiously toward me as if I might be feigning exhaustion to set a trap. As soon as I turned my head to look at him, he jumped as if I had just shot a gun and ran away at full speed. So our new game turned into, "I'm going to creep up on mom, but if she looks at me then I have to run away." That was fun for a while.

Lying on the floor gets boring after a while, so I stood back up. Elvis thought that meant I was ready to play again. I gave him a treat and patted him on the head, saying "Good boy," but he didn't get the message. He just kept running and then looking back as if to say, "Hello! Aren't you going to chase me!?" So I had to sit down at the computer so he would get the idea that I'm finished playing. It worked, so mission accomplished. Elvis is now enjoying a nice nap.

I don't think there's ever a day that is so bad that can't be made at least a little bit better by playing with a beagle - especially mine. He's awesome. :-)

Tao vs. Bunco

I think there is something wrong with me. Seriously, my DNA must be wired weird or something. You don't believe me? Here, check out my weekend:

Friday Night: Rex and I went to the Tao nightclub downtown. (http://www.taolasvegas.com/tao.html) The website's going to give you a better description than anything I could write. Rex and I had never been to a club before, and this one is fancy. There is a $40 cover charge to even get in the door! It's where all the celebrities hang out. Kim Kardashian throws a New Year's Eve party there every year. You get the idea. Anyway, one of Rex's friends from school has connections at Tao and could get us on a VIP list to get in for free, plus we got to skip waiting in the massive line to get in. A bunch of Rex's friends from school were going, so we figured why not? It could be fun...

Well, it was fun. I think. I mean, it was kind of fun. We had fun being with friends, anyway. This club was nuts. They had dancers hanging from the ceiling by their waists. They had women in skimpy rose-petal bikinis bathing in weird bowl-things. Everyone was so packed in tight together that I could hardly breathe, and someone dropped their drink down my back (which is actually an expensive accident, since drinks were $12 each. I know because I saw my friend buy one, not because I paid $12 for a drink. THAT would never happen). They had an army of hundreds of terra cotta soldiers guarding one of the bars. It was actually quite creepy.

Rex and I stayed for a little while, but then I think we realized that we were both waaaay freaked out by the whole thing. We left the club and went to hang out in the Venetian, which was awesome. Did you know that the Venetian has a "Grand Canal" INSIDE the building where you can ride in gondolas and look out over the water? Well, it does. The whole place looks just like Venice (or how I would imagine it, anyway...I've never actually been to Venice). We walked around and explored until 2:30 AM, when our friends were finally ready to go.


Saturday Night: Rex and I are trying to get more involved at our church, so we went to Bunco Night on Saturday. We didn't know anyone, so that was pretty intimidating. When we arrived, I looked in the window and said, "Rex, they all look old. Should we just leave?"

I am so glad we didn't. We went inside and met THE nicest, most welcoming people ever. They were so awesome. Most of them were probably my parents' age or older, but they were still super cool. We played Bunco for two and a half hours, and I discovered that I'm terrible at it. I lost ten games. At the end of the night, I won the "Biggest Loser" prize, which was a gift card to Subway. Whoo hoo!


Here's the issue: how is it possible that I had more fun at Bunco than at Tao?! My church's Bunco game has never appeared in People magazine. The average age at Bunco was about thirty years older than the average age at Tao. Millions of dollars have been spent on making Tao "cool," but about $25 was spent to put on Bunco night. Still, somehow, Bunco was way more awesome. I think I'm 22 years old going on 67.

Luckily, I'm married to a guy who agrees with me. We both had way more fun at Bunco and can't wait to go back next month. I doubt that we'll ever go back to Tao (or any other night club). Maybe it's a weird life, but whatever. It works for us.

Student Stories

Why hello, old friend.

I feel as if I hardly have time to blog any more. :-( This is sad. I went through a couple of my most recent posts, and I realize that I haven't talked about my kids at all lately! So I will share a few stories from the middle school world:

1. Last night Rex and I had a bunch of friends over to play Apples to Apples. At school yesterday, one of my students asked what I was doing this weekend. I told her, and she had never heard of the game Apples to Apples. I tried to explain it: "Well, there are these adjective cards, and then you have to pick out of a bunch of noun cards..." She cut me off with, "Mrs. Webb, that sounds like the nerdiest game ever. Your friends are teachers, aren't they? And you guys probably sit around and joke about things like HA HA LOOK AT THAT ADJECTIVE!" Rather than try to explain myself, I just said that yes, that's what we do on the weekends. Ha ha!

2. A few weeks ago we had a cold spell (which in Vegas means anything below 65 degrees). Students were all bundled up in their winter clothes, and a group of African American students were begging me to let them spend recess inside. I said no, that they needed to suck it up because it was NOT that cold out. One of them tried to convince me by saying, "But Mrs. Webb! Our ancestors are from AFRICA! We're not used to this kind of cold weather!" I told them to just think African thoughts and that maybe they could channel the climate of their "ancestors." The group immediately started dancing around chanting random gibberish that sounded like it belonged in the opening credits of either "The Lion King" or the TV show "Survivor." After a few minutes of this, the student came back to me and said, "Hey! It worked! I'm feeling warmer now!" Great, kiddo. I'm sure that had nothing to do with the fact that you had been dancing around for the past few minutes.

3. One of our vocabulary words last week was "picturesque." We always practice our vocabulary words by saying some sentences aloud in class that use that word. After class, one of the boys came up to me and said, "I wanted to use the sentence 'Mrs. Webb is very picturesque,' but I didn't want to get made fun of by the other boys so I figured I would just tell you after class." Awww...too bad brownie points don't translate into actual points.

4. One of the craziest boys in my class brought me flowers one day. Correction: his mom bought me flowers and told him to give them to me. She gives me random presents sometimes to thank me for "dealing with her son." That's kind of funny if you ask me. Anyway, he brought the flowers to school. In the hallway between walking in the door and getting to my class, he and his friends started wrestling over the flowers. When he got to me, he handed me the pathetic bunch and said "These are for you...but they got kind of messed up." I kid you not: it was a bundle of stems and ONE of the stems had ONE petal on it. Ha ha ha!! I should have taken a picture to post. It was so funny. It was the flower bouquet equivalent of Charlie Brown's Christmas tree. Oh well...it's the thought that counts?

5. I routinely call my students my "homies." One day after class one of them came up to me and said, "Mrs. Webb, I know you're white, but are you 100% white? Like, totally?" Yes. "Well, it doesn't seem like it sometimes. That's kinda weird." Coming from a black student, I think I'll take that as a compliment.

6. A few weeks ago I had students do presentations on some grammar concepts that we learned. Quite a few students decided to do songs or raps. I will tell you - my class was ROCKIN that day! The students decided to start calling my classroom "Club Webb," and they said I should get a giant neon "W" to put on my door. It's always a party in Language Arts. :-)

7. Two of my students who sit with their desks adjacent to each other were fighting over where their binders go. I walked up and said, "Boys, what seems to be the problem?" One of them replied, "We're having a dispute over territory." I said, "Well stop it, because neither of you own any territory at all in here. It's all mine." The other boy turned to his friend and said, "That's true dude. She owns, like, the whole KINGDOM." Yes, I am the queen. Surprisingly, that stopped the fight. Ha ha!

8. Yesterday my eighth graders walked into class after recess, and I was having a difficult time getting them to quiet down. I went up to the board and started talking with a deep southern accent: "Howdy y'all. I'd sure love to git this here class started, but I cain't rilly do that now can I? Anyway, if y'all would get out yer writin notebooks, I'd be much obliged..." by this point, everyone was staring at me as if I were trying to teach in Russian because I sounded so weird. I switched back to my normal voice and said, "Awesome, thanks. I just needed you to be quiet," and went on with my lesson. I'm pretty sure that some of my students think I have a screw loose.


Well, that should be enough for now. I really need to start writing these funny things down as they happen so that I can remember to blog them for you. I will try to do better!

Bad Rex

Rex is a good guy at heart. Don't immediately judge him as "mean" just because he made a random two year old cry. It was all innocent at first, and you can't really control how people are going to react to your generosity. "No good deed goes unpunished" and all that jazz, you know?

Rex and I were at Meijer with our friends Jake and Kaitlin. Actually, I had planned on going to Meijer alone, but Rex surprised me by arranging for Jake and Kaitlin to come to town and hang out with us for the day (See? He's actually a really good guy). So my mundane grocery list was thrown out in favor of "ice cream and sundae toppings" so that we could have a fun night with our friends.

With the appropriate items secured, the four of us were on our way out of the store. On our way out, we spotted a two year old boy trying to ride the mechanical horse. His sister (about five or six years old) stood idly by as he tried to gallop on a stationary horse. It looked equal parts ridiculous and pathetic. Rex pulled a penny out of his pocket and said, "we should give this to him so that he can put it into the machine and make the horse move." Then he started putting it away, saying "Nah...I don't want to freak him out or anything."

Jake grabbed the penny out of Rex's hand and decided that the pint-sized cowboy did indeed need a moving horse. He handed the penny to the sister, and we turned to walk away. The sister put the penny into the slot....the horse began to move....

...and the boy burst into tears.

We're not talking about a lone tear that spilled out of his watery eyes. We're talking "Ahhhhhh! AHHHHHHHHH! WAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!!!" as he jumped off of the horse. He acted as if it just said it was going to run him over. He was sobbing and screaming. His mom rushed out of the grocery line to see what was wrong. The sister started explaining and then pointed to us, at which point we hurried out of the store and into the sanctuary of the car. I hope the poor little boy doesn't grow up to need therapy or anything because of that experience. I can see it now: "Well Doctor, it all started when I was two. I was the victim of a horse attack. I remember...it was running and running, but it seemed as if we were going nowhere. There was a man in blaze orange who was trying to kill me...I've never really been able to forget it completely."

Well, THAT will teach Rex to try to be nice to small children. Never again.