1. Death to Dell
2. What's up with psycho elementary students? (Story to Follow at later date...)
3. No means NO!!!!! (maybe...)
4. Death to the holiday season
5. GRE. Why? WHY???
6. Grad School... whatever...
7. Van down by the River. Home sweet home...
8. Halloween in nice.
9. My roommate is nice.
10. D'oh!!!!!!

You look burnt... or dead...

Speaking of brutally honest elementary students, I got quite a big dose this morning.

Annie: Miss Hansen?
Em: Ya?
Annie: You look sick!
Em: Thanks.
Annie: Are you sick?
Em: No.
Annie: Because if you're sick then you shouldn't be here...
Em: I'm not sick. Just a bit tired.
Annie: Oh, then you should get more sleep. Like me.
Em: Thanks for the tip...

Maloy: Miss Hansen?
Em: Ya?
Maloy: I know your real name. It's Emily.
Em: Yep, how did you know that?
Maloy: Mrs. Ord calls you Miss Emily sometimes.
Em: Oh, ya.
Maloy: Miss Hansen? How old are you?
Em: 22.
Maloy: You're SHORT!!!
Em: Ya...

Gotta love 'em!

The Day of the Field Trips (a.ka. Day of the Dead Em)

Yesterday was the day. Pain was at a high. Patience was at a low. My day started 45 minutes earlier than usual (at 7:45am) and ended 2 hours later than usual (at 6:30). Yes, from 7:45 until 6:30, I was chasing small children around. Chasing small children during a field trip to BYU, chasing small children during a fire drill and chasing small children around "Hee Haws." I am tired!!

Field Trip #1
BYU - Smith Field House
All the "wanna-be elementary P.E. teachers" got a big dose of reality as my first graders ran into their previously carefully set up gym. I sat back and watched and laughed as they tried their best to get the 30 first-graders to hit a ball with a bat, throw a football, jump rope and (most amusing of all) listen and follow simple directions. By the end of the hour, the college students had tears in their eyes and the first-graders were whining. "Man, that was boring!" "Ya, the best part of this stupid field trip was the bus ride!" If anything, the college students at least learned about the brutal honesty of elementary students.

Fire Drill
Wasatch Elementary
I had a meeting at 7:45am where we all got lectured about what to do during fire drills. And by "lectured" I mean they handed us a red piece of paper that went through what each job position does in a fire situation. And since my job title wasn't on there, it wasn't much help at all. But, since I knew what time the fire drill was scheduled to be, I just let my student go early so I wouldn't have to deal with it. Instead, I watched the complete chaos unfold as I casually walked from class to class and searced for missing children. This is what I found...
Niel (a boy in my first-grade class)
"Hey, buddy. Aren't you supposed to be outside?"
"I already did that."
"But then you were supposed to go find your neighborhood color."
"Oh. I thought we were supposed to come back in."
"No, we're pretending the building is on fire right now."
"Oh. Where's my class?"
"Outside. Right there. See your teacher? She's the one looking frantically around for you."
"Hehe. Ya. See ya!"

Field Trip #2
Pleasant Grove? Hee Haws.
I was placed in charge of four children. Two of them were bigger than me and one was autistic. Hee Haws is a wonderful place. This dirt palace of the world has a huge corn maze in the shape of some famous Jazz player. Whatever. But the thing was dang hard. And I'm not smart. And the kids I was with were in the special program for a reason. We kept getting lost.
"Miss Hansen? Which way are we supposed to go?"
"This is about you finding your way. What fun would it be if I just told you?"
Eventually I figured out how to backtrack and we went out the entrance.
"Look! We made it! Way to go!"

I came home dirty, tired and with the headache of my life. And yet, I was a happy girl! I love those kids! I love my job!

The Piper Is Down...

Curse Dell and all their "interns" with their zero knowledge about computers and complete unfeeling towards their customers who spent tons of money on their piece of plastic that is now as much use to me as an oversized paper weight. A plague on all their houses.

Em's been away from the computer world and will be for some time apparantly. And yet... I find a comfy neck of the Villa in order to bring to you... THE DAY OF THE FIELD TRIPS! Da da da dum!!!!

Manic Monday

Apparantly whether or not you go to work/school on Monday... the day itself is evil.

Day Four of Day Five

This weekend was perfect!! It really was. A+ on productivity. A+ on relaxation. A+ on fun. A+ on socialization. It was an A+ weekend. And the best part of this A+ weekend is that there's still an entire day ahead of me! That is... if I can get myself to bed. And that's where I'm going. To bed. This weekend is going up on the fridge, folks!

Day Three

My sister's new hobby is text messaging me on my cell phone. My sister and I haven't been all that close. At least not since I was seven and she tried to kill me at my cousin's house. She's also six years older than I am and our interests never really blended that well. She was into bongs when I was into Barbies. And our likes and dislikes didn't mesh either. Apparantly she really likes hospitals; I have a deep seeded phobia of them. We're not the kind of sisters that excitedly hug when we see eachother or the kind that call each other all the time. She has her life and I have mine. And quite frankly they're polar opposites.

She's only tried to contact me six times in the over four years I've been away. Four times to tell me to buy Christmas presents and put her name on them for the parents. And twice to try to get me to move home because things weren't right at home and she wanted me to come clean up.

And now she's taken to text messaging. Over and over with the same theme. "When are moving home?" At first I joked about it and responded back, "I'm thinking about moving home in December of two thousand and NEVER!" But she kept asking and asking. I thought that maybe something was going on at home that my dad wasn't telling me. Maybe my mom had hit bottom again even though she sounded fine on the phone the MILLIONS of times she calls me now. I asked my dad about it and he talked to my sister. Apparantly she wants me home because... she misses me.

He said she wants me there for her wedding and when she starts having kids. She wants me there to be her friend and an aunt to her children.

Well, this is new.

And now I'm left to decide. Is this just another mind game? Or is she serious? And if she is serious, do I act upon her request? I do love Seattle. And as much as I love Provo and all the people here... they're leaving in April. Soon, I'll have no place here. I'll be homeless again.

So, do I move back and hope it's better? Just be an adult and put it all behind me? Or maybe I'm with Joe. "I don't have any people of my own, Cheif. I'm my only hope for a hero."

Day Two

I slept in a bit! Probably because I stayed up way later than I should have. But for some reason I couldn't tear myself away from the History Channel. I watched "We Built This City: New York" followed by "We Built This City: London" followed by "We Built This City: Paris." It's official. I wasn't adopted. I am definitely my father's daughter. If there were encyclopedias around, I would read them. I'm a huge dork. Dorkiness is a big chunk of the Hansen genes. And it's a big chunk of me. There's no getting around it.

However, even though I spent my evening in Dork Land, I still had nightmares last night. I don't really remember a lot of details but I do remember being stranded and then stalked in a deserty place with people that I assume were supposed to be my family. There were these evil men holding us there and it was my fault that they now knew that we were unarmed, in the middle of nowhere... and stupid.

This morning, as I was just lying in bed I was thinking about my dream (what I could remember of it) and how evil those guys must have been to leave a whole family in the middle of nowhere. Then I remembered back to a time when I used to think I was evil. And I laughed. When I was younger I had been so convinced that I was evil that I would spend hours in front of the mirror waiting for my eyes to turn cat-like or red because that's what my childish idea of evilness was. I waited and waited with my heart pounding in my chest. I so much didn't want it to happen but at the same time I was so sure that it would happen and I knew my scary eyes would scare myself once it did. Every day I'd go back to the mirror and watch and wait. But it never happened. My eyes never showed evil. Obviously. I was more than a bit relieved but not yet entirely convinced that I wasn't evil. It would take years before I was truly convinced. Fortunately for me I found an online test for such a situation. (Sorry about the questions that don't apply.) What was the comforting result of my test? I'm only a "Little Evil." Good to know. Baby steps...

Day One

Apparantly my obnoxious Winnie the Pooh alarm clock has had permanent effects. I hate the sound of this thing so much that I usually get up myself right before it goes off. Then I quickly turn off the alarm clock so that I don't have to start my day with the belted tune. But I guess I've done that so many mornings in a row now that I just can't sleep in on a Thursday. I feel okay about it though. My free day will be longer and also, I'm pretty sure I was dreaming about being in a cult so it's best that that dream ended before the inevitable "end of the world" talk by our "leader guy."

Hurray!

Today is a beautiful day and let me tell you why. I got off work at 1pm. Earlier than I thought I would and way earlier than I usually do. Also, I don't have work tomorrow. Or Friday. Or Monday. That's right, a FIVE-DAY WEEKEND!! I'm a happy girl. And when I say "happy girl" I mean a really happy girl! Also, tonight I get to see Finding Nemo (which I love) with my friends (which I love)! Happy, happy, happy girl. Hurray!

Apparantly I'm a lot like Marlin. Which leaves me to wonder... which Finding Nemo character would you be?

James' Uncle

James is six years old and one of the two boys I take out to the playground each day during PE. He's also the boy that ran away a few weeks ago. James is small and comparitively strange. On our way out to the playground the other day, James shared some valuable advice.

James: Will you give me an underdog?
Me: Sure.
James: We'd better do it on the big swings. Because if you do it on the small swings then maybe I'd swing all the way around the bar. And then I'd get hurt.
Me: Good point.
James: My dad's brother did that and his neck got caught and wrapped around the chain and his head came off and he died.
Me: Ew. Sorry to hear that.

A few moments pass as we walk to the big swings...
James: Actually, that didn't happen to my dad's brother.
Me: Oh...?

A few more moments pass as we approach the swings...
James: Actually, I don't even think my dad has a brother.
Me: Interesting...

Swing Time

Every day for the past few weeks it's been my responsibilty to supervise two first graders as they play outside for about fifteen minutes as their classmates are in PE learning how to defend themselves against kidnappers. The kids play tetherball or play on the toys or swing. There's only two of them and they're great at entertaining themselves. I'll occasionally redirect their play, push them on a swing or chase them around but usually they keep to themselves and have no need for me. So I spend this time swinging.

I swing and swing. I go back and forth, back and forth, higher and higher. The swinging is constant and predictable. But my thoughts race. They're random. I think about serious things. Things that bother me, things I remember but wish I didn't and things I fear. But on the swing it's different. I don't get upset, or scared or worried. I'm on a playground with kids and I'm on a swing. It's simple and innocent. And so are my thoughts. Even the most complex concerns seem to be scrawled out in crayon. They're not a big deal any more. Those memories are just as important as remembering what I ate last night for dinner. On the swing I'm happy and light as I swing back and forth, higher and higher thinking and swinging. And that's all.

Also, when I swing with the kids I can get WAY higher than any of them! "No child can beat me!"

Em,
Please note that when the telephone rings and you choose to pick it up, it is then your responsibility to say hello. I understand that it's them trying to contact you but still you must say hello. Answering the phone, waiting for them to say hello and then just hanging up is not a valid option. The actual ringing of the phone counts as their first "hello." Please remember this in the future to save yourself further pain in the social realm of the world. Let's admit it, you're already suffering in that area.
Also, it helps if you turn your ringer on. This will limit all of those annoying messages on your phone that you never check anyways.
Sincerely,
Common Sense

"I Play By My Own Rules."

Tetherball is the in thing to do at recess. Kids gather and line up around the tetherball polls as they take turns competing against each other. It's all very serious. I like to watch every now and again. Every once in a while a kid will get hit with the ball or try some new weird stunt that will make me laugh. (Yes, I can see how you thought doing a cartwheel at that moment would help you win this game of tetherball. Good point.) While watching today I overheard the following conversation between two third graders...
"Hey, man. You can't grab it like that."
"What?"
"You can't grab the ball like that. Only hit it."
"Oh, I play by my own rules."
He said it so matter of factly as if it were perfectly acceptable to create your own rules that work towards your advantage and expect the competition to be okay with it. Did he expect the other kid to say, "Oh, sure. Do whatever you need to win. I'll just stand here and play by the real rules and let you cream me" or what? I waited for the response of the other kid, too. What would he say to that one?
"Okay... whatever..."
And they kept on playing their serious game of tetherball.
I thought to myself, "Well, that wasn't so bad." The other kid was obviously a bit annoyed but they kept playing and when the game was over the victory was as legit as if they had been both playing by the real rules. Nobody called foul play. Hmmm... can I apply this to adult life?
"Hey, you have to pay your bills."
"Oh, I play by my own rules."
"Okay... whatever..."

Recess Fun

There's a little girl named Camille who is in the third grade that I have loved since the first day I saw her. She's a little girl with Tri-21 (Down Syndrome) and since kids with this disorder all look like they're related she reminds me of my Fallon back home. I just love Camille! Unfortunately this love is not often mutual. I'm the one that has to tell her when recess is over and Camille doesn't like that much.

Camille's favorite recess game is "chase and then tie up Colin with a jump rope." Colin's a good sport. A cute 2nd grader who apparantly loves the attention of this older woman. But today... well, he may rethink this recess activity.

Somebody told me that there was still a 3rd grader out even though the 3rd grade bell had rung several minutes before. I looked under the slide and there was Camille, Colin and a few other kids with worried faces. Camille had Colin tied to a pole under the slide. "It's okay. I like it," said Colin. I told him that I knew he was okay with it but that it was time for Camille to go inside. "Come on inside, Camille. Your recess is over," I told her. She told me to wait. That she had to just tie it a few more times. "No, Camille. It's time to go. You're already late and you already have two warnings. If you don't go in nice today then you can't have lunch recess any more." Camille continued to tie her rope. Suddenly Colin looks at me and says, "Uh! Miss Emily? It's actually starting to hurt..." I gave Camille a warning and told her that she had 5 seconds to come out before I went to get her teacher. "No! Don't get my teacher!" I counted to five but she wasn't moving...

I walked over to her class and went inside. The whole class was on the rug staring at the teacher as she closed a book she had read to them. "Excuse me, but is Camille supposed to be in here right now?" I whispered.
"Yes, she is."
"She won't come in from recess."
"Then bring her in."
"She won't do that for me and I certainly can't drag her."
"Alright, I'll go get her. You take care of the class."
And she was gone...

Wait! What? "Take care of the class." What does that mean???

"Hehe... so... guys... in the 3rd grade, huh? That's cool..." I sat in the chair in front of the class with 60 young eyeballs on me. "Books... nice... so you're readers... what kind of books do you like to read?" Hands shot up. I kept asking weird questions and they ate it up. I was a hit! I may not be Camille's favorite person but her class loves me. I'm okay with 30:1. I can live with that. Besides, I still have my Fallon...

Ouch

Monday. Monday. It's Monday again. Yep, good ol' Monday. If there's one thing you can count on, it's a Monday. It comes every week and every week it carries with it A) a first day back to school or work and B) the promise of four other days in a row just like it. Although I hate Mondays I'm not about to start weird internet chains or go completely insane and try to swat actual Monday Blue Bugs. I mean, come on. Nobody's that crazy, right?

fRiDaY

It's Friday and I'm happy, happy, HAPPY!
Top Ten Reasons that I'm Happy it's Friday!
10) I got off work early and was home in time for a late lunch.
9) No work tomorrow
8) General Conference Weekend
7) Bennett Night
6) General Conference Tickets
5) I see Sarah tomorrow
4) Girls Night Out tomorrow night
3) Ward breakfast and Conference viewing
2) Roommate and friend love!
1) Although I've recieved two emails from them today, I have NOT recieved any phone calls from my parents!... nevermind... they just called! D'oh!!!

The Answers...

Question from my sister: When are you moving back?
Answer: I'm thinking that I'll be moving home in December of two-thousand-and-NEVER!!

Question from Will: Why do I have to do this?
Answer: Because, believe it or not, knowing how to read and write really is valuable in the real world.

Question from Mom and Dad: What will you do once you fail? Move back home?
Answer: If I fail then I'll eat it and sleep in my car and live off of government cheese but I'm not moving home.

Question from the Principal: How is it being just as tall as the students?
Answer: It feels just like Christmas.

Question from Jennifer: What are you going to do now?
Answer: I dunno. I'm thinking about going into bartending. They're always in need of people with Psych degrees.

Question from Aimee: Oh, yeah? Well, what's 100 + 100??
Answer: 200.

Any Questions?