Wa S'up Galileo?

Well, this is amusing. Heh.

What? You say you've never heard this song before? I'm going to assume that you haven't been to a middle school pep rally this decade. My condolences.


Well, here you go.




Oh man, these lyrics are so bad. But if you're 13, I think these lyrics really speak to your soul. But even if the sentiment of the song isn't awakening your inner teenager, maybe you can still get into this beat. Happy Summer.

The End

This Spring, in addition to starting a graduate program, I had a series of ridiculously complex hoops to jump through to renew my teaching certificate. Hours of writing, collecting student work as evidence, and a lengthy editing and revising process have all led to this moment of pure freedom. As of last night, I'm done. There were moments when I seriously questioned changing careers to avoid the whole thing.

Some friends and I went out last night to celebrate with Poutine and a sad Polish movie---was too full and I cried. But I woke up this morning feeling absolutely free. FREE!!

During the school year, my work is never done, weekends and nights are never really time off from my job. If I'm not grading or lesson planning I'm feeling guilty and knowing I'm going to regret it later.  It's not an exaggeration to say that I'm always working---I just can't seem to relax. And it's gotten worse during the last 9 years I've been teaching. Once I realized how much better I was at my job when I got to school an hour before it started and left 4 hours after, it's like it became my new normal and I couldn't go back. When I get home I usually spend the hour before I fall asleep emailing parents or administrators. I'm usually thinking about how to turn cool things I see or read into innovative lessons. I scan the internet for silly science cartoons to put on my tests and pepper into my powerpoints. I'm become crazed with TED Ed videos and watch them like Saturday morning cartoons with bowls of cereal in the morning hoping to find the gems that might make learning sort-of interesting. And Sunday nights are the worst. The absolute worst.

I always forget what summer feels like---it's like no other feeling. It's three in the afternoon and I'm still in my pajamas. I know it's Saturday and maybe I could do that any Saturday, but it's different. Because I know that all the days are Saturdays now.

The Penultimate Day of School

I really don't have much to say. I'm exhausted. I'm heart broken that tomorrow I have to say goodbye to 130ish kids who've meant the world to me this year. I'm giddy with excitement. I'm grateful. I'm just a lot of conflicting feelings.

And just so, so tired.

The only thing I know for sure is there there are gonna be a lot of tears tomorrow. 8th graders are very emotional.

Roadside Geology

A few years ago my mom gave me a few really cool books about geology and volcanism of the Pacific northwest. She thought I might enjoy putting them in my classroom for the curious kids. I did take some of them, others are on my bookshelf at home, but the Roadside Geology of Washington book, the greatest treasure in the cache, lives in my glove box because you just never know. I like to drive around this state and while I'm at it, I like to know what I'm looking at. It would be cool if someone would make a roadside geology map app for my phone. I would love cruising around listening to a narration of the regional geology while navigating to my destination.

I have a couple of friends who are taking a vacation to Norway later this month and on Friday they invited me over for dinner and a geological discussion. They wanted to know a little about the geology they're gonna be seeing. I had forgotten how much I love talking about cratons, and crystalline basements and the formation and breakups of super continents. Seriously, we had a blast. After spending most of my week trying to educate largely unwilling participants, it was a delight to have such avid students.

Thanks Mom. For both the book and the love of geology. You rock!

Hunt for the Perfect Seattle Ice Cream Cone

A few weeks ago it came to my attention that a friend of mine has not adequately ventured out into the Seattle Ice Cream scene.  It was decided that this must be rectified immediately. I love me some ice cream and Seattle's got some pretty great local flavor.

A scheme was devised to visit a different place each Tuesday evening and the last couple of weeks have been delicious.

Here's the score so far:

Bluebird Microcreamery and Brewery
Phinney Ridge/Greenwood
Flavor: Chocolate Pudding
Delivery: Homemade waffle cone
Verdict: The ice cream had a dark beautiful color that suggested it would have a rich, dark flavor but it just seemed a little meh to me. Part of the problem is that Snoqualmie's Mulkilteo Mud is the litmus test to which all chocolate ice cream must be subjected and this scoop did not measure up. They had two chocolate flavor's on the board and I sampled both before selecting the Chocolate Pudding, maybe I made a mistake? I'll just have to go back and order the other one another time. Also oddly enough, the waffle cone had a weird flavor that I didn't care for which surprised me because I haven't met a homemade waffle cone that I didn't love before. It's not the first time I've been there and I remember deeply enjoying it last time (maybe it was the excellent company I was with that night), so I was disappointed but more than willing to give it another shot with another flavor, sans the cone. But we had a beautiful evening sitting outside on the sidewalk with the glorious Seattle sunshine drawing folks through the door like a moth to a flame.

Parfait
Ballard
Flavor: Meyer Lemon
Delivery: Homemade waffle cone
Verdict: First of all, they knew what they were about. I was shocked and delighted at how much I loved every bite of this cone--both the ice cream and the actual cone, which tasted like a perfect cookie (I like my cookies crunchy, a much debated topic between my sister Emily and I). I'd take a bite, enjoy it, then disbelieve it could really be as good as my brain was telling me, then take another bite only to discover it was the gospel truth. Is it a little dramatic to say it was the best ice cream cone of my life and I could die a happy woman? Absolutely. But that doesn't mean it wasn't true. The price is the limiting factor on this place--no ice cream cone is going to break the bank but you don't expect to have to dig around in your bag for extra change when you already handed the kid a fiver. But remember how delicious it was? Yeah, I paid first so any injustice I felt at the register was fully compensated by the surge of dopamine levels in my brain as I ate the ice cream. No price is too high for this fix.