Fake Diamonds

Getting fake engaged isn't as easy as it used to be.

Prior to yesterday, I'd forgotten all about the April Fool's Joke that Rex and I played back when we were eighteen.  I was leaving for a senior year spring break trip with my girlfriends, and Rex bought me a fake engagement ring from Meijer.  While sitting in the airport with my girls, I made the "happy announcement" that Rex and I were engaged.  They were shocked and horrified, as another girl in our class really was engaged at the time, and we'd all discussed how the idea of being engaged while still in high school was completely insane.  They tried to act happy-ish to not make me mad, but also said things such as, "I mean...are you absolutely sure this is what you want?"  They were extremely relieved when they found out it was only a joke.

I thought about this yesterday because it would have been really handy if I still had that fake engagement ring.

My wedding ring is the most beautiful one I've ever seen (I know all y'all have beautiful wedding rings, but mine's my favorite.)  I love it, and I would be extremely sad if anything ever happened to it.  The center stone in the ring was a little wobbly yesterday, and this made me nervous.  It would be very expensive to replace that diamond if it fell out.  I took the ring to our jeweler, and he agreed to send the ring out to have the diamond reset (for free, because Rex has a lifetime warranty on that ring.  Phewf!  Go Rex!).  Unfortunately, that means I'm wedding ring-less for the next week and a half.

I feel really weird when I don't wear my wedding ring, and I knew it would be especially weird this weekend because Rex and I are going to a family wedding where lots of out-of-town relatives will be there.  His family is really close, and rumors spread fast.  I didn't want anyone to see that neither Rex nor I were wearing our wedding rings and start rumors that our marriage is on the rocks.  Rex has his ring on his keychain because it gets in his way when working on patients.  I'm fine with that, but I do think it would be a little weird for neither of us to be wearing a ring, especially to a large family wedding (where everyone inevitably looks at wedding rings).

I needed a new ring.  I had no idea where the fake one from high school was, so I decided to go shopping and get a new one.  After all, how often do I have the excuse, "Sorry Rex, I HAD to go buy new jewelry?  No way around it."  I was instantly excited by this idea.  I love rings, even fake ones.  What cut did I want?  Princess?  Emerald?  Marquis?  Fake white gold or fake yellow gold?  Did I want one with side stones or a solitaire?  So many choices...  I wished I would have had some warning on this.  I should have planned ahead.  Every girl should have a gorgeous fake wedding ring waiting in the wings for such a time as this.  I can't believe I didn't think of that before.  Really, this sounds like an I idea I would have come up with prior to yesterday.  Alas.  I was unprepared.

I went to a few different stores in the mall looking for cheap rings, but nothing was really exciting to me.  I found a pretty fake sapphire ring reminiscent of Princess Diana/Duchess Kate's ring, but I decided I couldn't buy that one because then Rex would say, "Why didn't you just wear the sapphire ring I already bought you?"  (He's bought me a ring in every gemstone because...well...I think he might actually believe I'm a princess.  Shhh...no one tell him I'm not).  I only have one diamond ring, though (well, two...but the other one's in the shape of a bow so it's OBVIOUSLY not wedding ring material).  I needed a fake diamond.  I wanted it to look semi-realistic, too, not like a five-carat monstrosity that could only be afforded by a Kardashian if it was real.  Apparently realistic fake wedding rings are not as easy to find as they were back in 2007.

Eventually I settled on one from JC Penny.  I don't love it, but it was only $10.  I guess it will make me that much happier when I finally get my real ring back.

Oh, hi there

Hello, you!  You're still following this blog?  The one I've abandoned all summer?  How kind of you!

This summer has easily been the most life-changing summer I've ever had.  That includes the summer that I lived at the Crookston farm.  That also includes the summer that I graduated from college and got married.  That should show you how significant it was. I mean, I'm currently sitting at my desk at school (not supposed to be working - don't worry.  I'm still on summer break).  I'm looking at the date on my whiteboard: "June 1, 2015."  I feel like I don't even recognize the woman who wrote that date almost three months ago.  To dig into the complexities of these differences would fill pages of blog that you don't have time to read and I don't have time to write.  Just know that I came out of this summer stronger, smarter, more globally-minded, and way less naive.  I feel like I'm going to look back at the summer of 2015 as "the summer when I grew up."  Seriously.  This is strange, as I'm twenty-six, married, a homeowner, and five years into a stable career.  By all appearances, I should have already been grown up.  I think I thought I was.  Newsflash: I wasn't.

I'm not the only one who changed this summer.  My pantry did too.  I opened the door today and laughed at the fact that two staples of my current diet had never been in my house prior to this summer:

Nutella was a favorite in Germany, and soba noodles were a favorite in Japan.  To give you an idea: this morning I ate a croissant with jam and nutella for breakfast, then for lunch I ate that box of soba noodles.  Oh, and I ate them with chopsticks.  Rex and I both eat Asian food at least once a week now, and we actually use the nice set of metal chopsticks that I bought in Korea.  Just in case those ones ever get old, I also bought a set in Japan that are on standby.  My one food regret is that I can't get gimbop in the United States.  This was my favorite food in Korea. I'm wondering if I can learn how to cook it.  Maybe I should ask one of the moms at my school.  They can cook anything.

Anyway, I just wanted to check in - let you know I'm back - and promise that this blog will be back to normal as soon as possible.  Even though I'm back in Michigan, I'm sure I'll find some adventures to be had.  I always do.  :-)

World Wide Webb

A conversation with a coworker today:

Coworker: Which class did you teach last week?
Me: I didn't teach last week.  I was in Japan.
Coworker:  Oh, cool.  Which class are you teaching next week?
Me: Ummm...I'm not actually teaching next week either.
Coworker:  Why not?
Me: I'll be in Germany.

WHAT IS MY LIFE RIGHT NOW?!

I'm not usually so globe-trotter-y.  It's a lot of fun, but it's very, very different than my everyday life.  If you haven't been following, you can follow my international adventures at worldwidewebb2015.wordpress.com.  I've been having the time of my life, but I also feel like I've been learning so much (both professionally and personally) that my brain is about to explode.  Bad news: I'm only halfway through the adventures, meaning I still have so much to learn.  Ahhhhh!  I don't know if I can handle more learning!!

I only have six days at home between the two trips, and I'm already halfway through that.  My laundry isn't done, the house is a mess, and I'm absolutely not over jet lag.  Somehow it's all going to pull together by Friday, though, because then I'm off again.

Follow me over on World Wide Webb if you're not already.  I wanted to stop in and say hello to this real life blog for a moment, but I'm off to fantasy land again really soon.  It's a strange summer.  I'll be updating this blog again when I get back, so let's go hang out on Wordpress for a few weeks and I'll meet you back here in August.  Sayonara!  Aufwiederzein!  Goodbye!

Copiers and Octopi

It's like a bad joke: what does a copy machine and an octopus have in common?

Answer: they both spray you with ink in self-defense.

If I told that joke at a party, the people would laugh nervously and look at each other as if to say, "Ummm...I don't get it."  But if someone told ME that joke, I would laugh hysterically because I know how a copy machine reacts when it is threatened.

I'm sitting comfortably in my living room, sipping lemonade and celebrating being on summer vacation.  NOW this story is funny.  At the time, it was kind of stressful.

Ask any teacher about the last week of school, and they'll probably tell you that they don't remember much of it.  That's because it's a blur of final projects, graduation preparations, tearful goodbyes, grading, and cleaning.  It's busy.

It was the third-to-last day of school, and the other two junior high teachers were on a caving field trip with the eighth and ninth graders (perk of a small school - awesome field trips).  I was holding down the fort and getting ready to copy some tests for my sixth and seventh graders when it happened: the copier broke down.  Our junior high science teacher doubles as our tech support guy (downside of a small school: staff members do a bunch of different jobs), and he was gone.  I quickly assessed that this situation was very bad.  If I couldn't fix the copier, we were going to be without copies for three days until he got back.  That was obviously unacceptable.  I don't know how schools in the past functioned without copiers.

I had five minutes until class started: it was on.  Teacher vs Copier, season 1 (I would watch that show).

I punched random buttons on the error screen until the copier told me that it had no toner.  Ah ha!  No toner.  This should be easy to fix.

Except for what, exactly, is toner, and where do I get some?

The kindergarten teacher walked into the room, and she too was wildly dismayed by our deficient copier and the absence of our tech guy.  As all kindergarten teachers are, she was optimistic and upbeat, saying that we could probably find some toner in a cupboard somewhere and figure out how to install it.  She looked for the toner while I tried to find the toner area on the copier.  I opened the belly of the copier, and this is when the copier started feeling threatened.  I found a white box with some black stuff in it, and I asked, "is this the toner?"  The kindergarten teacher said yes, so I took it out.  Now the copier was really mad.  I peeked in a small hole in the top of the box, and I said, "it doesn't look like the toner is empty..."  I gave it a tentative shake to see if I could see toner swishing around (because I thought that maybe toner swishes).  I gave it a SMALL, TENTATIVE shake.  I promise you.  I wasn't waving it around in a toner frolic or anything, even though that's what it looked like I did.

The toner (still not sure what this is, exactly) made a small "poof" noise and exploded ALL OVER THE COPY ROOM.  It's a black powder that is inky and very difficult to clean, let me tell you.  I had toner all over me, on the copier, on the floor, on the wall....everywhere.  You win, copier.  Then the bell rang to start class.  Perfect.  The kindergarten teacher laughed sympathetically and hurried off to class (she wasn't standing next to me at the time of the explosion and therefore was clean), but I couldn't leave the room covered in copier debris.  I had to clean it up.

I poked my head into class and told the kids to get started on their math assignments.  One of them asked why I had black stuff in my hair...and on my arms..and on my skirt...  I told them there was a copier mishap, and I had to go handle it.  (I wanted to say, "there was a battle in the copy room, and I am a casualty," but that sounded a bit dramatic).  They offered to help, and I said the best way they could help would be to work quietly while I handled the situation.  They (mostly) did that, which bought me about ten minutes to try to clean up the mess.

Even with ten minutes, I couldn't get much cleaned up.  Toner mostly just smears around and makes everything inky.  I was grateful that our janitor was gone for the day, because I was pretty sure he would murder me if he saw the state of the copy room.  I finally gave up and went back to class.  One of the other staff members called our office supply company and asked if they could send a tech out to fix our copier.  He said he'd be there by noon.

When the tech guy arrived, he popped his head into my classroom.
Techie: Hey there, are you sure there weren't two toner cartridges dropped in that room?
Me: Yes, I'm quite sure it was only the one.
Techie:  Wow.  That was the worst toner spill I've ever seen.
Me: Yeah... (not sure how to respond to this.  I'm ashamed and also a little proud).
Techie:  Whoever tried to fix that toner cartridge, it would probably be better if they didn't ever try to fix the copy machine ever again.
Me: Yep, I totally agree with you.  Never again.
Techie:  I mean, it was really bad.
Me: Yep.
Techie:  Don't worry - I know it wasn't you who did it.  You're nice and clean.
Me: Actually...it was me.  I looked pretty bad around 8 AM.
Techie: Really?  Oh.  Sorry... (he looks really embarrassed, but I don't think he needs to be.  I know I'm the copier klutz).
Me:  No really, it's okay.  I know it was quite the spill.  Thanks for cleaning it and fixing our copier!  You totally saved the day!
Techie:  No prob.  (hustles out of the awkward situation).

So it was a crazy morning, but the sixth hour test was still given as scheduled!  All's well that ends well.  I bet there's still toner lurking in some of the corners of that room - my legacy at my school.

Bow Ring

When Rex and I first got married, we were both still in school.  We had no money.  We were living off of love, dreams, and ramen noodles.   Really, that was okay with us.  We knew what we were getting ourselves into, we made budget sheets before we got married, and I think we were as ready as we could have been.  Everyone says the first year of marriage is terrible, but ours was honestly pretty great.  I remember getting to our first anniversary and saying, "Wow, if that's supposed to be the worst year of our marriage...we're in for a pretty awesome life."

One of our favorite dates during that first year was to go to Qdoba on $3.99 burrito night.  We would split a burrito for $4 and then go walk around the mall for a while and window shop (we couldn't buy anything, obviously).  One of my favorite places to window shop was Zales jewelry store, because the fun thing about window shopping is that prices don't matter - you can dream as big as you want! We would look at all of the sparkly gems and choose our favorites.  Rex would play along and choose a watch or something (don't worry - I returned the favor and pretended to care about athletic shoes when we went to Finish Line after Zales).

Every time we went to Zales, I would visit "my ring."  My favorite ring was a white gold ring with a diamond-studded bow on top.  I'm not sure why I loved it so much; it was girly and diamondy and well...very me.  I would try it on literally every time we went to the mall and say, "Rex, promise me that one day, when we're rich, you'll buy me this ring."  He always said yes (we were living off of our dreams, remember?)

Well, Rex got into Physical Therapy school in Nevada, so we moved to Vegas.  Unfortunately, the Zales there didn't have my bow ring.  Rex and I both got busy with school, found new date locations, and I nearly forgot about the whole bow ring promise.  When we moved back to Michigan two years later, I halfheartedly looked in a Zales store one day and noticed that the ring was gone.  Why wouldn't it be?  It's not like they keep the same inventory for four years.  I moved on, got a new job, and Rex finished up his internships and passed his boards.  Life went on.  We stopped eating ramen noodles.  We bought a house.  We became grown-ups.

Last night was Rex and I's fifth wedding anniversary.  We had discussed getting each other smaller gifts this year, as we just bought a new puppy and are still trying to pay off student loans.  But when it came time to exchange gifts, guess what Rex had for me?

I bet you can guess.

THE BOW RING!!  I couldn't believe he remembered.  I seriously have not mentioned this ring since we lived in Lansing.  He said that he knows we're not technically rich, but that he'd been looking for that ring for four years since we left Lansing.  When he finally found it again, he couldn't let it pass him by.  After all, he promised he'd get it for me.

So today I'm wearing it on my finger, watching it sparkle in the sun, and feeling like I have the best husband in the world.

The Rose Room

Rex and I had a great weekend getaway this past weekend to celebrate our fifth wedding anniversary (oh, and we were also picking up our NEW PUPPY, but that's really its own separate post).

When planning the weekend, Rex and I wanted different things.  He wanted to stay at a hotel, and I wanted to stay at a bed and breakfast.  He likes hotels because they're predictable and normal and all pretty much the same (unless you're in Las Vegas, of course, in which case they're crazy), and I like bed and breakfasts because they're all different and unique and more adventury than a hotel because you're never quite sure what you're going to get.  Rex offered a compromise: how about we stay at a hotel the first night and a bed and breakfast the second?  Great idea!  See how much we've figured out marriage in the past five years?  It's about compromise, people.

Here's another reason why bed and breakfasts are better - watch how much more interesting the blog write-up is for that one!

HOTEL WRITE-UP:

We went to a hotel.  It was fun.  There was an old queen bed with a thin-ish comforter, two nightstands, cable TV, and a small bathroom.  Continental breakfast - I had a waffle.  Woot.

BED AND BREAKFAST WRITE-UP:

The handwritten paper sign on the door said, "Knock and come in," so we did.  The old house smelled of tea and yellowed books.  The fireplace in front of us was not lit, and the grand piano next to it looked ready to play.  Above us, an indoor balcony was connected to the upstairs level.  The balcony was lined with bookshelves and an old easy chair.  I tentatively called out "Hello?" and then the fun really began.  Daphne, the innkeeper, screeched "Hellooooooooo" from a back room before sweeping in to greet us.  "Hellooo," she cooed in her drawling, melodious voice.  "Hooow wonderful for yoou to share your anniversary with us.  Isn't finding your soul mate just the beeest thing eveeer?!"  Her white hair was sticking out in all directions, and she looked past us into space as if she was deep in her own memories about soul mates.  Her black liquid eyeliner was ringed around her eyes, but not actually lining them - just sort of haphazardly put on in the general vicinity of her eyeballs.  Her lipstick was orange, and it was only in the general vicinity of her mouth.  It reminded me of when I let Rex's six year old cousin give me a makeover.  "Come, come!" she said, clasping her hands and snapping out of her reverie.  "Let's go to the sunrooom!"  She swept past us and into a back porch that overlooked her gardens.  We followed behind her.  I made the mistake of making eye contact with Rex once, and we both dissolved into muted laughter.  WHAT had we gotten ourselves into??   I resolved not to look at Rex again until we were alone.  Daphne seemed really nice.  It wasn't her fault that she was a bit nutty.

Daphne was so excited to celebrate our anniversary with us that she upgraded us to the honeymoon suite, the Rose Room, at no charge.  Hooray for Daphne!  Remind me to delete that disparaging comment about your eyeliner!  She gave us some drinks and homemade cookies in the sunroom while she offered us some recommendations about sights and restaurants to try out around Marquette.  (This is another reason why bed and breakfasts are better.  Do you get welcome drinks and homemade cookies at hotels?  I don't think so!).  After chatting with her for a bit about the area, she gave us a tour of the house and showed us to our room.  I think she reminded us at least three times, "Now, don't forget, it's the honeymoon suite!"  She said it with a conspiratorial glint in her eye, and I wondered if she was going to pull a Betty White and offer us the babymaker blanket from The Proposal.  As soon as she left us alone in our room, Rex and I both burst out laughing.  We tried to be quiet, though, because she was obviously still in the house.
"I don't know what she's expecting," Rex whispered, still laughing, "but I absolutely cannot 'honeymoon' in here with those creepy people watching me."  I looked where he was pointing, and there was an ancient painting of arguably the creepiest people I've ever seen.  I wish I would have taken a close-up picture to show you, but it was too creepy.  I didn't want to get close to it.  Rex also mentioned that there was a 95% chance that those people were haunting our room.  He was probably right.

Our room was called the "Rose Room," and...well...she was serious about that.  There was rose wallpaper, a rose comforter on the bed, roses on the night table, rose patterned carpeting (no, I'm not joking), roses on the pillows, roses on the towels, roses in the artwork.  The toilet, sink, and shower were all bright pink.  Like, Barbie dream house pink, and I'm pretty sure that's only because Daphne couldn't find rose patterned porcelain.  There was a TV and VCR with a stack of VHS tapes (TAPES, PEOPLE! LIKE THE NINETIES!), and out on our balcony there was an easy chair with (what else?) a rose throw over the back of it.  It really was a beautiful room, but the whole thing felt very 1800's secret-garden chic.  The bed was huge.  I don't know what size is bigger than a king bed, but this was it (Side note: I don't get why big beds are supposed to be the romantic ones - I tried to snuggle up to Rex in the night and had to battle through a labyrinth of rose patterned sheets to try to find him.  With so much space, you're basically sleeping alone.  I think honeymoon suites should all have twin beds, because then you're forced to be touching basically the whole night.  You can't get lost in the sheet garden.)  Anyway, the bed was so comfortable.  It also had a big down comforter, so I felt like I was sleeping on a giant, fluffy, rose-colored cloud.

In the morning, Daphne made us a fantastic three-course breakfast served on fine china by candlelight in her dining room (Ha, Econolodge!  I laugh in the face of your paltry continental breakfast!).  She freshly squeezed orange juice from oranges she got off of her property in Arizona.  She made applesauce from the apple trees in her garden.  She served stuffed french toast and blueberry buckle for dessert (It was like a coffee cake - so delicious).  The only other tennant at the bed and breakfast that morning was an unfortunate man named Bud.  I call him "unfortunate" because he seemed quite bowled over by Daphne's ephemeral demeanor, especially when she said, "These two are in love!  I must play them my wedding song!"  So while we ate our breakfast, Daphne floated over to the grand piano and played a song about weddings and how God would see us through our cloudy days to bright skies, and how He would keep us faithful to each other.  "Are you married?"  I asked Bud, trying to make things less awkward.  "I'm divorced," he answered curtly.  Oops, looks like I made them more awkward.  My bad.  We ate our french toast in silence.

Well, not silence, obviously.  Daphne was still crooning about true love and undying devotion.

So it was kind of an awkward breakfast, but the food was really delicious so that made up for it.  Good food can make everything great.  Also, I was still in a rosy mood from all of the roses.  I don't think I'll be able to look at roses without having flashbacks ever again.

It turned out to be a really fun/funny experience - one Rex and I certainly won't forget anytime soon.  See why bed and breakfasts are so fun??  This would have been a very boring post if we stayed in a hotel all weekend.

Stay tuned for a post about our new puppy soon!

Good Kids

I take back every bad thing I've ever said about my students.

Last week I was totally blind-sided by their awesomeness, but I haven't had time to blog about it until now.

It all happened first hour on last Thursday morning.  I was walking to my math class when my boss came up to me and said, "Hey Christine - here."  He handed me a crumpled up piece of paper that looked like a dropped note.  "I didn't drop this," I told him, looking confused.  I opened the note, and it said something about Melissa thinking math is a bore.  "Whose is this?" I asked my boss.  "It's not mine...should I just throw it away?"  He said no, that it's mine and I should read it.  I asked if someone told him to give it to me, and he nodded, smiled, and walked away.

Hmmm... So I was alone in the hall with this mysterious crumpled up note from my boss that wasn't from my boss because someone gave it to him to give to me.  This was a lot to process before eight in the morning.  I opened it up again and read the whole thing this time: "Melissa says that math is a bore, but you'll find the next clue on the __________________."  I looked around to see if any students were peeking around corners or anything.  Nope.  It certainly looked like the beginning of a scavenger hunt, but junior high kids tend to have a penchant for pranks.  Who knew what I could get myself into if I followed the note?  I shrugged and went to my first hour class.

The students in my first hour were looking at me expectantly, so clearly they knew I'd been given the note.  Now I was curious.  "What are you guys up to?"  I asked.  "What is this note for?"  They urged me to just do what it said and not ask questions.  Oh boy.  Obviously the answer to the first clue is "floor," so I started circling around my classroom looking for a clue on the floor.  The kids seemed confused.

"Umm...Mrs. Webb?  What are you doing?"  one of them finally asked.

"I'm looking for a clue on the floor," I answered.  Because really, that's the OBVIOUS answer to that clue, right?  You thought it too.  Admit it.

The whole class burst out laughing.  "It's not on the FLOOR, Mrs. Webb!" (like that was the most ridiculous thing they'd ever heard). "Try somewhere else!"  Oops.  Okay, not on the floor.  So I employed my best rhyming skills and tried "door."  Bingo.  The next clue was taped on the edge of the door that meets the wall when the door is closed.  Tricky.  That clue led me to the next clue on top of my projector, and that one led me to a clue on my writing process wall, and THAT clue led me to one taped under my desk chair... You get the idea.  Lots of clues.

The whole class was laughing and having a great time, and I was getting increasingly more nervous.  "What is this leading to?" I kept asking.  "Is something going to jump out at me?  Is this going to hurt?"  This obviously made them laugh harder.  While I was searching, a few of the sixth graders from the other class came into the room too.  I asked what they were doing there, and they said Mr. K (my boss) had given them permission to come watch me.  Oh joy.  I couldn't concern myself with them too much, though, because I was on a mission to find....something.

One of the clues led to the inside of one of my library books about prisons (that was a hard one to solve), and on the inside of the book was taped a flash drive.  I had to plug in the flash drive and click on the only file on it, labeled "READ ME."  I was afraid it was going to blow up my computer or something - I have some pretty tech-savvy kids - but it just led me to the next clue.  There was also a link that said "click here," which I was very skeptical of doing.  I pretended I didn't see it and went to move to the next clue, but the kid who made that clue said, "Mrs. Webb - you missed the link!  Look what it does!"  He clicked it, you can click it too if you want to see what it is.  Words don't really do it justice. (no viruses, I promise): CLICK HERE

Is that not the CUTEST thing EVER?  And clearly it shows that my students know me super well.  I left it as the computer background for the rest of the day.

After I found that clue, I looked up on my cabinets and saw a video camera.  "Are you TAPING me?" I asked, surprised and mildly creeped out.  "What?!  What are you taping?  WHAT'S GOING TO HAPPEN TO ME?!"  I jumped up on a chair and grabbed the camera.  Sure enough, it was on record. I turned it off and put it on the counter.  The sneaky little buggers were laughing hysterically that I discovered their "hidden" camera.

I soldiered on in clue finding (I think there was only one past the flash drive clue), and finally the clues led me to a large box hidden behind some other boxes in a corner of my room.  It was taped shut, and I wasn't sure I wanted to open it.  There was an awful lot of hype about this box.  "What's in here?" I asked one more time.  "Is something going to jump out?"

They all gave me an emphatic "no" and insisted that I open the box.  The promised I would like what was inside.  Well....

...drumroll please...

I opened the box....

....and....

It was full of a bunch of beautiful, new school supplies!  If you're a teacher, you'll understand how much teachers NEED the following items: pens, pencils, kleenex boxes, dry-erase markers, erasers, a new art set, candles, etc.  So many things.  The box was full.  I was completely stunned.  "Is this all for me?" I asked.  "This stuff is amazing!  Thank you!  But....why?  It's not my birthday or anything..."  I wracked my brain for a holiday I was missing.  It wasn't Teacher Appreciation Week.  It wasn't my birthday.  It wasn't my anniversary (not that my students would know that anyway).  What was it?

One girl spoke up for the bunch: "The kids on the bus were talking, and we realized that we are always using up your supplies and messing up your room, and we never say thank you or give you anything back.  So we all chipped in and got you some new things that we thought you could use to finish up the rest of the year."

WHAT.

What junior high kids EVER think of something like that?!  My kids, that's who.  The sixth graders who had come to watch the scavenger hunt were in on it too.  All the students smiled at me, clearly so excited to offer me their gift, and I wanted to burst into tears (which I didn't, obviously, because that would be quite unprofessional).  But isn't that the NICEST thing you have ever heard in your LIFE!?  I realize I'm excessively using capital letters here, but they deserve them.  I was so touched.  The kids who ride the bus usually don't get to school until right when the bell rings at 8:00, so that morning they'd had their parents bring them in at 7:15 to set up the scavenger hunt before I got to school at 7:30.  It took a tremendous amount of thought and planning - some of the students even went shopping together for their contributions to my gift.  If I know one thing about junior high students, it's that they're generally terrible at keeping secrets.  They kept this one really well, however, because I was totally and 100% surprised.

I realize that there's a Teacher Appreciation Week, and I do appreciate small gifts and cards I get during that week, but this was a million times better because the students thought of it and put the whole thing together themselves.  Also it was a total surprise, which somehow always makes presents more fun.

So there.  I have the best kids in America.  I just thought you should know that.