The Ice Cream of the Future!

I had never had Dippin' Dots (the ice cream of the future) until I went to Cedar Point with my students six years ago.  My co-worker, who we'll call Mr. Skywalker, introduced me to these delicious frozen treats.  I admit, I was skeptical at first, but he persisted and soon I was won over.  The only place I have ever seen them is at Cedar Point, so now my visits to the amusement park are spent hunting down Dippin' Dot vendors and consuming as many different flavors as possible in eight hours.  Here's what they look like, in case you have not been made aware of the future of ice cream:

The cookies and cream are my favorite.

In unrelated news, apparently one can BUY a Dippin' Dot machine:

I have a sneaking suspicion that homemade Dots would pale in comparison to Cedar Point ones.  Plus I'm lazy.  But it does please me that such a contraption exists.

This isn't the point of my story though.  Our annual field trip is on Thursday, so of course I have been informing the students that they need to bring money to purchase Dippin' Dots and then send selfies of themselves consuming said Dippin' Dots to Mr. Skywalker, who has since moved on to another school.  It will make him CRAZY and make me laugh.

As I was informing the students of their assignment at the amusement park, one student raised her hand and said, "I don't like Dippin' Dots."

As I began to give her the stink eye, another student at the back of the classroom stood up and yelled, "SHE'S A WITCH!"

Really.  Full-on Monty Python.

Then in the mass chaos that follows, I heard another kid say, "Dippin' Dots do weird things in my mouth."  Apparently he was relating what his MOTHER says about Dippin' Dots, but I think it's funnier without knowing that part.

I Just Want To Bang On The Drum All Day

Disclaimer: I have a very good relationship with my students.  They know that most of what comes out of my mouth is total nonsense, especially prior to 9:00 A.M.  No drummers were hurt in the creation of this post.  Really.  Idle threats, all of them.

I am fairly certain that the entire percussion section of the seventh grade band is in my homeroom.  And when is band?  Immediately after homeroom, so the drumsticks are omnipresent.  The rule is that drumsticks are only to be used on, you know, drums.

There are no drums in my classroom.

Do you honestly think, for even one second, that there is no drumming occurring in my room?  I mean, really.  IT IS CONSTANT.  These kids drum even WITHOUT the sticks.  I know, because I had to ban them from my room after band class.  FOR OBVIOUS REASONS.  The drumming and tapping has been driving me insane all year.  In fairness, the kids themselves warned me that they liked to tap even before they became seventh graders, so it's not like I wasn't prepared.

But this morning, there was drumming.  I do have a stool in my room that is roughly the same size and shape as a snare drum. Apparently it was too much temptation for this particular drummer to resist and the madness began.

Me, standing outside my door in the hallway:  I DON'T WANT TO HAVE TO COME IN THERE AND RIP YOUR ARMS OFF, BUT SO HELP ME....

*drumming comes to an immediate halt*

Fellow non-percussionist classmate standing in the hall with me:  That wouldn't solve the problem.  He'd just drum with the stubs.  Or use his head to bang on the wall.

#truth.  Kid's got rhythm.

I Don't Think That Word Means What You Think It Means

It's Teacher Appreciation Day.  YAAAAAAY for teachers!

Because my school rocks, we actually get an entire WEEK of appreciation.  I am lucky enough to work at a school where the parents and administrators spoil teachers rotten during this week.  We have lunches every day, presents, cards...it's almost too much.  Almost.  I like to think that I've done my time--most of the other schools I've worked at might send an e-card at the end of the week.

One of the fun activities we have during this week takes place during our morning assembly.  One teacher from each hall competes in a silly game of some sort.  The winner gets to spin a wheel to determine his or her prize, which could be a jeans day, free lunch, or even getting to leave early.

I have never won.

Today, the lucky winner spun and received a pass to leave early.  My homeroom students, who by the way had mocked me for screaming, "WHEEL! OF! FORTUNE!!!!!" when the wheel came out, asked why I couldn't win one of those passes.

"Because I possess neither luck nor ability," I replied.  The students continued to encourage me to attempt to play tomorrow, which seemed suspicious.  "Why do you want me to win?" I queried.  "Why are you trying to encourage me so much? Are you finally starting to appreciate me?"

"If you won a pass to leave early, maybe you could use it to come in late instead.  And then you'd miss our class."

"But I've missed your class like four times out of the past seven," I pointed out.  I was out of town.  Then sick.  Then at a doctor's appointment.

"Yeah, and it's been great!"  was the reply.

We need to work on defining "appreciation," apparently.

Therefore, I will be appreciating Star Wars tomorrow loudly and with relish.  And I shall be involving some homeroom students in the celebration against their will.  To show my appreciation and all.