52 New Things -- Week 4 -- Settlers of Catan

I love games.  I'm not ashamed.

I may be a wee bit too competitive, I'll admit.  For a while there, none of my cousins would play anything at our family gatherings after several Christmas trouncings in a row. And some snickering. Too competitive + a poor sport = no one wanted to play with me. I learned.

Imagine my shock when I fell in love with an non-game loving, non-competitive man.  It's really quite disappointing.  I mean, all those years I was single, I pictured coming home after a long day of work, enjoying dinner with my husband, and then rounding out the evening with a game of Scrabble or Chicken Foot Dominoes.

For real.  That was my vision of wedded bliss -- someone to play games with every night!

Instead I've got twenty games taking up space in our tiny apartment and no one to play them with. So a few months ago when we met a young couple who said they love games, I was super-excited.  Then they started naming some of the games they liked.  Most I had never heard of, but when they mentioned Settlers of Catan, I groaned. They liked those kinds of games.

The games I love are mainly word games like Bananagrams or Scrabble or Taboo. Being a book nerd with a large vocabulary, I can kick butt.  Or party games like Cranium or Catch Phrase that get lots of people laughing and having a great time.  Those are my kind of games.

Then there's that whole other category of games: strategy games. You have to plot and scheme, two things I've never been good at.

In all honesty, I haven't really played many of those games, so I probably shouldn't be so quick to judge. I once played Risk with my brother, though, and afterwards made a mental note to just slam my head in a car door if I ever considered playing again. Those two activities would be equally fun.

But we really like this new couple we met, and to build a friendship, you have to compromise, right? Plus 2013 is all about trying new things . . . and even if the game was as awful as Risk, it would only be a few hours of torture, right?

I brought Beyond Balderdash just in case.

The evening started off well with a delicious dinner and fabulous conversation. After dinner, we sat around their table talking until I rudely cut off one of my husband's monologues on some deep discussion topic by declaring, "We're wasting precious game time!"

We cleared the table and they set up the game.  Kevin had played before, too, so I was the only newbie. (Yeah, the man who refuses to play games with me will gladly go hang out with his college buddies once a year and play games like this. I need to figure out how this peer pressure thing works. Plotting and scheming, plotting and scheming.)

I pretty much accepted from the get-go that I was not going to win. That's a hard concept for a competitive person to accept, but I figured the evening would be incredibly unenjoyable if I got all crazy about not winning. I resolved to not complain too much and smile through the pain.

But you know what? It wasn't really that painful. I mean, after they'd explained things to me, it wasn't nearly as awful as marching armies across continents in Risk. It was even a little bit -- dare I say it? -- fun.

The nicely arranged cards . . . before I started throwing them.

I lost . . . so of course we had to play again.

We started the second game after 10PM, though, so you know it wasn't pretty. I could barely keep my eyes open, let alone pay attention to who had recently acquired bricks or wood or sheep, the important details you need to keep track of to dominate. Geesh.

Of course I didn't win that one, either. Not falling asleep was my only special accomplishment of game two.

So even though I'm pretty sure I'm never going to like Settlers of Catan more than Scrabble or Catch Phrase, you know I'm going to have to play again.  Until I win. At which time I will probably declare it to be a pretty decent game.  :)

52 New Things -- Week 3 -- Basketball for All

Fun, fun, fun!

That's the best way to describe Tuesday night, I think.  And even better, I get to spend the next two months doing the same thing every Tuesday night.

Now that we're settled here in Minnesota, I've been looking for a volunteer opportunity.  Since leaving Colorado, I haven't really done much of anything to help anyone, and I find that my life feels shallow when I'm focused solely on myself.

I saw that the YMCA was looking for "buddies" for their "Basketball for All" program, so I signed us both up. (Kevin may not know it, but he needs to volunteer, too!) Neither of us have a lot of experience working with kids with special needs, but we were both camp counselors back in the day, so I figured we wouldn't be completely awful.

I distinctly remember Special Ed. Week at Lutheran Lakeside Camp. I was all of nineteen and had zero past experience with the population about to arrive. The brief training we got terrified me, as did the fact that two other counselors moved into my cabin in preparation for the six women campers who'd be staying there for the week. A 3:6 ratio? Obviously this was going to be a long, hard week, caring for these difficult, demanding people.

Yes, it was a hard week.  But it was also amazing.

I don't think anyone was as excited to go to camp as those adults with special needs. They had the times of their lives in those six short days. Yes, there were moments that tried my patience and/or grossed me out, but the same could be said for any other week with any other campers.  And that whole "faith like a child" thing the Bible talks about (and most of us struggle with)? This gang had it covered.

The best part of the week, though, was the final night when we had a dance. We had a dance every week -- your typical teenage dance, with some kids confidently showing off their moves but most either too embarrassed to dance or deludedly too cool to do anything but stand on the sidelines and roll their eyes. Our Special Ed. campers? I've never seen anything like it. I'm not sure I ever will again, this side of heaven. They danced their hearts out.  It was like American Bandstand, Flashdance, Soul Train, and Grease all rolled into one. No one gave a rip about what anyone thought of them. It was beautiful.

AND I got a free t-shirt!  What a deal!

That dance -- that exhibition of freedom to fully be who they were -- jumped into my mind Tuesday night as I saw kids dribbling and shooting and showing off for their new buddies. They were superstars. No one was going to make fun of them. No one was going to say they weren't good enough for the team. It was all high fives and fist bumps and showers of praise. For one hour, they had nothing to worry about.  Happiness reigned.

And you know what? For two people who can easily get caught up worrying about our own problems, an hour of all smiles and no worries was pretty great for us, too. That's usually the case -- I go into situations planning to help people, but I unexpectedly end up happier and more thankful and wondering who's helping who.

I can't wait to go back.  :)

52 New Things -- Week 2 -- Teaching Kindergarten

It's good to face your fears, right?  And it's completely irrational to fear a room full of five-year-olds, I know.  So Thursday morning, when my sub choices were high school chemistry or kindergarten, I chose kindergarten.

Below is a summary of the day.  Names have been changed to protect the innocent the whiners.

5:30AM  Accept kindergarten sub job.
6:00AM  Remember I can't stand large groups of small children.  Consider cancelling.
6:15AM  Remember financial goals which can't be met if I spend the entire day in my pajamas hiding from children.  Take deep breaths and forge ahead.
7:45AM  Arrive at elementary school.  Circle school looking for an unlocked door so I can get into the building.  Consider this difficulty a sign from God that I should not be here.
8:10AM  First students walk in.  Twenty minutes early.  Seriously?
8:12AM  Tie shoe.
8:14AM  Tie shoe.
8:16AM  Tie shoe.
8:18AM  Tie shoe.  Wonder why no one has taught these children to tie their shoes.  Make mental note to start tying triple knots.
8:30AM  Day officially begins.  Try to project confidence as children can smell fear.  Celebrate one of the eighteen kids being absent.
8:35AM  Make children repeat "Tiffany" three times since they are slaughtering "Miss Tiffany."  Realize the name "Tiffany" is foreign to anyone born after 1987.
8:40AM  Release children to "work stations."  According to Montessori schedule, they will be "working" until 11:15.  Try to distinguish difference between "supervising 'work time'" and "large-scale babysitting" to no avail.
8:50AM  Hysterical screaming from corner.  Tyler has fallen off step-stool while washing his hands.  Inspection shows minor scrape to elbow.  Soap, water, and a speech to toughen up, kid.
9:00AM  Spit on three times in thirty seconds while listening to a kid who can't say his p's without some projectile.  Make mental note to back up next time he speaks.
9:15AM  Check the clock. Wonder if clock has stopped working. Check cell phone. Realize no, I really do have to endure this "work time" for two more hours.
10:00AM  Joel says, "I'm starving." Launch into lecture.  "Children in Africa who have no food are starving. You are not starving. You may be hungry, but you are not starving."  Child stares blankly at me and asks when Miss Renee is coming back.
11:15AM  Work time over!  Hooray!  Read a book. Quiet for ten minutes.  Hallelujah.
11:30AM  Walk children to recess.
11:40AM  Scarf down lunch while sitting in a little chair at a little table.  Try to maneuver spoon to mouth without dripping soup on very-much-in-the-way knees.
12:00PM  Head to lunchroom to supervise.  Loudness of classroom times ten.  Headache begins.
12:05PM  Parent shows up to take one girl to an appointment.  Celebrate being down to sixteen kids.
12:10PM  Open Gogurts, Fruit Roll-ups, and twenty other lunch items.  Wonder at what age children advance beyond monkeys re: fine motor skills.
12:20PM  Instruct everyone to wash syrup off hands.
12:25PM  Conduct smell-for-soap test to weed out the sneaky little liars who did not wash their hands.
12:30PM  Begin "quiet reading time" which is really "look at pictures in books time" because duh, these kids can't read.
12:40PM  More "work time."  Consider banging head against wall.
12:50PM  Megan sobs uncontrollably.  Try the phrase, "Use your words." She blubbers something about a book.  Tell her to sit down until she's calm and then try again.  She asks when Miss Renee is coming back.
1:15PM  Sneak two Tylenol out of purse.
1:20PM  More crying.  Why isn't there nap time in this school?
1:30PM  Multiple children come down with headaches and sore legs and request to see the nurse.  Feel foreheads for hotness and send the one that seems to actually be hot to the office.
1:40PM  More crying. More questions of when Miss Renee will come back.
1:50PM  Girl with fever goes home sick.  Cry foul and ask why I didn't get a say in this.  Request to keep her and send home kid who cries every ten minutes.
2:00PM  Kids go to music.  Praise the Lord.
2:10PM  Hold head in hands and wonder why the Tylenol hasn't kicked in yet.
2:20PM  Back from music, someone cuts the cheese.  Try to control sensitive gag reflex.  How can such a horrid smell come out of such a small body?
2:30PM  Zip fifteen coats.  Wonder again about monkeys and fine motor skills.
2:40PM  Load kids onto buses.
2:50PM  Write teacher notes about the day.  Wonder how to nicely phrase comments about excessive whiners.
3:00PM  Drive home thankful this is not my day-to-day job.

So, a day in a kindergarten classroom has just reconfirmed what I already knew: mass gatherings of kiddos do not make me happy.  But points for trying something new, right?

Qualifications . . .

The sub system is kind of crazy in the sense that anyone who has a teaching license can sub in ANY area, qualified or not.

I know my limitations.  I decline any requests to sub for kindergarten through third grades, and also upper level math and science classes.  I was an English major, so a day in a chemistry classroom would pretty much be nightmarish for me.  Same with a room full of six-year-olds.

But Wednesday night when a middle school music position popped up on my iPhone, I accepted.  I was in band.  I was the majorette my senior year for our little marching band, so you could say I've even got conducting experience.  It's a stretch, but I thought I'd do okay.

When I got to the school Thursday morning, I was told the P.E. teacher was also sick and I'd need to cover for him first hour.  I looked down at what I was wearing: a sweater, dress pants, and dress shoes with a one-inch heel.  Hmmm.

It turned out to be fine -- another P.E. teacher handed me a microphone and told me to call fouls and outs in kickball, then took her class to the second gym.  It was a rather uneventful hour.  Supervising kickball's not that hard, right? 

And then, five minutes before the end of the period, an old woman hobbled into the gym.  She said she was replacing me as the P.E. sub for the rest of the day. 

I'm not trying to sound discriminatory.  I love old people.  I know someday I'm going to be an old person myself.  I just hope and pray that when that day comes, I will be living contentedly in an assisted living facility rather than velcro-ing up my tennies and shuffling off to supervise middle school P.E.

"She's nearly 80," the secretary said when I went back to the office to pick up the band room key.  "I don't know why she'd accept a sub day in P.E. . . . "

I worried about her all day.  At lunch I wondered if I should go down and check on her.  I pictured mean middle schoolers purposely pelting her with the kickball.  She looked like a strong breeze would blow her over.  I feared she'd break a hip or worse.

Then another teacher came into the band room and introduced himself.

"Tiffany Malcom," I replied.

Whoops.  I may be more physically capable, but I'm guessing the old lady down in the gym could get her own name right. 

Score one for Grandma.

52 New Things -- Week 1 -- Coffee

First up -- drink coffee!!

This week seemed like a good time to knock this one off the list since we were in Waverly at the same time as one of Kevin's oldest friends, a guy who just happens to own a fancy coffee machine thingie.  He ground the beans and pressed the grinds and I don't know what all.  There was even some steaming of milk involved.  It looked complicated.  The end result was this:

Fancy, huh?  Luke could quit his job as a tenured professor and become a barista.  The pay's probably comparable, right?

He and his wife Kjellrun watched me nervously sniff at it before taking a tentative first sip.  Here's my "Yes, it's beautiful but it's still coffee" face as I go for this first sip:

 

I'd like to say it changed my life and I will join the ranks of adults everywhere who love coffee, but . . . no.  I gave it a good effort.  I'd say I had ten swallows.  That's trying, right?

My sister-in-law really wanted me to try again, so she gave me some "doctored" coffee -- flavored coffee PLUS about fifteen shots of flavored cream.  Yeah, it wasn't as strong, but I could still taste the coffee.

I'll stick with the kids and drink orange juice for breakfast.