Tomorrow it begins. Tomorrow I begin my student teaching. I am working in a Jr. High Band classroom. Within a month (probably sooner), I will be in complete control of the entire band program. Teaching all classes, all levels. Doing all the lesson planning, all the classroom management. Teaching Jazz. I really need to buy that techniques book. Jazz is scary.
Teaching is scary.
Pray for me.
And while you're at it, could you pray for my students too? I'm not sure but what I might screw them up for life.
14 August 2006
5K or (ro)Bust
Whilst I was in Germany (don't worry, I will be updating on that soon), I did a lot of walking. And by "a lot", I mean, A LOT - everyday walking, crazy hiking, tours, stairs, etc (I figure it was somewhere in the ballpark of 2-3 miles per day). As a result of this walking, I was forced to buy a belt. My pants kept falling down! Let me tell you, I was excited. See, I'm not one of those people who obsesses about her weight. I don't think I'm fat. I am out of shape, but I don't feel like I'm overweight. I would like to be IN shape, but have always felt that homework and sleep were more important than that pursuit. Last summer, I re-joined Taekwondo, but again, homework and sleep got in the way. (plus, I blew out my knee and had to go to physical therapy). Anyway, back to Deutschland.
So, I had to buy a belt. I was pretty excited. Clearly, I was on my way to getting IN shape. When I got back to the states, I weighed myself, and I hadn't lost a SINGLE POUND. Not one. I choose to believe that I was changing fat to muscle. This is not self-denial. The belt, remember the belt!
So, I'm back home at my parents house. It's a Sunday - the 30th, I think. I'm standing in the kitchen and the following conversation takes place:
Dad "Did you do a lot of walking in Europe?"
Me: "Yeah, A LOT. Why?"
Dad: "You look like you've lost some weight."
Me: "Uh, yeah. Well, I slimmed down a lot. I had to buy a belt."
Dad: "Yeah. You were getting kind of robust there before you left."
Me: "...."
Mom: "PAUL!! You sound like your mother. Or MY mother!"
Me: "So, who's mom would you rather sound like, huh dad?"
So. yeah.
My sister has challenged the whole family to be able to run a 5K buy next July 4th. Needless to say, I have taken her up on this challenge. Partly because of the previous conversation, partly because I am mostly a 9 year old boy and I can't turn down a dare, and partly because I want to continue this trend of getting IN shape.
There's just one problem. I HATE running. And by "hate", I mean HATE, as in loathe, despise, revile, puke on. If my body could legitimately have some kind of rash from running, it would. Unfortunately, I do not have a legitimate excuse to NOT run. Asthma doesn't work, cuz several people in my family have that, and THEY'RE training. Also, did I mention not being able to turn down a dare?
So, I'm training for a 5K. Thank goodness I have a year. Thank goodness the training schedule is REALLY easy. I won't go into it now, but let's just say this: any training schedule that lets you start out only running 1 minute at a time is WONDERFUL.
So, I had to buy a belt. I was pretty excited. Clearly, I was on my way to getting IN shape. When I got back to the states, I weighed myself, and I hadn't lost a SINGLE POUND. Not one. I choose to believe that I was changing fat to muscle. This is not self-denial. The belt, remember the belt!
So, I'm back home at my parents house. It's a Sunday - the 30th, I think. I'm standing in the kitchen and the following conversation takes place:
Dad "Did you do a lot of walking in Europe?"
Me: "Yeah, A LOT. Why?"
Dad: "You look like you've lost some weight."
Me: "Uh, yeah. Well, I slimmed down a lot. I had to buy a belt."
Dad: "Yeah. You were getting kind of robust there before you left."
Me: "...."
Mom: "PAUL!! You sound like your mother. Or MY mother!"
Me: "So, who's mom would you rather sound like, huh dad?"
So. yeah.
My sister has challenged the whole family to be able to run a 5K buy next July 4th. Needless to say, I have taken her up on this challenge. Partly because of the previous conversation, partly because I am mostly a 9 year old boy and I can't turn down a dare, and partly because I want to continue this trend of getting IN shape.
There's just one problem. I HATE running. And by "hate", I mean HATE, as in loathe, despise, revile, puke on. If my body could legitimately have some kind of rash from running, it would. Unfortunately, I do not have a legitimate excuse to NOT run. Asthma doesn't work, cuz several people in my family have that, and THEY'RE training. Also, did I mention not being able to turn down a dare?
So, I'm training for a 5K. Thank goodness I have a year. Thank goodness the training schedule is REALLY easy. I won't go into it now, but let's just say this: any training schedule that lets you start out only running 1 minute at a time is WONDERFUL.
02 August 2006
The Dangers of Cheese
So, I've been home for a week now. I think. It's been kind of fuzzy - you know, the whole jet-lagged, where am I, what time is it, who are you and why are you speaking English, thing. It's been fun.
But, I'm coming out of it now, and so I decided to celebrate. And, in true celebratory fashion, I went shopping! Now, don't get too excited, I bought cleaning supplies and groceries. Yeah, the house has only been inhabited by boys since I left. It needs...work. To say the least.
Anyway, so back to the celebration. Shopping was followed by putting the groceries away. Mop in the cupboard, Bleach under the sink, Food in the fridge. At which point (I guess because the celebration was a tad boring and I needed something to liven it up), I stabbed myself in the eye with the bag of Shredded Cheese. Kraft Shredded Colby and Jack, to be precise. I know this because I got a REAL close look at it.
Then, to top it off, as I was wiping the tears streaming down my cheeks, I managed to stab myself yet again with a piece of Puffs Plus Lotion.
Boy, do I know how to celebrate, or what?
But, I'm coming out of it now, and so I decided to celebrate. And, in true celebratory fashion, I went shopping! Now, don't get too excited, I bought cleaning supplies and groceries. Yeah, the house has only been inhabited by boys since I left. It needs...work. To say the least.
Anyway, so back to the celebration. Shopping was followed by putting the groceries away. Mop in the cupboard, Bleach under the sink, Food in the fridge. At which point (I guess because the celebration was a tad boring and I needed something to liven it up), I stabbed myself in the eye with the bag of Shredded Cheese. Kraft Shredded Colby and Jack, to be precise. I know this because I got a REAL close look at it.
Then, to top it off, as I was wiping the tears streaming down my cheeks, I managed to stab myself yet again with a piece of Puffs Plus Lotion.
Boy, do I know how to celebrate, or what?
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