Carie Juettner

Encyclopedia of MY Ordinary Life: A Plagiarism of the Best Intentions

I don’t know about you, but I could use some reasons to laugh this week. If you don’t know what I’m talking about, just turn on the news. On second thought, don’t. It’ll just bring you down.

Anyway, I have been watching the news, so I’ve been needing a way to cheer up. Today I stumbled upon something in the hidden crevices of my computer that made me laugh and, on the off chance that it might make you laugh too, I’ve decided to share it.

Really, though, you shouldn’t thank me for this bit of mirth. You should thank Amy Krouse Rosenthal (who has a really cool website).

Two and a half years ago, I read Amy’s memoir, Encyclopedia of an Ordinary Life, in which she shares personal anecdotes in the form of an encyclopedia. Rather than try to explain how she turns this classic nonfiction format into something quirky and fun, here’s a picture of pages 108 and 109 in the G section:

The end of the GROCERY CART entry on page 110 says, “unpacking the groceries at home, I realized the rose was still sitting there at the store, paid for, on the bottom of the cart.”

I loved this book. What a unique, creative idea! And, as with all unique, creative ideas that other people come up with, I wished it had been mine. So, I decided to copy it.

Shortly after finishing Amy’s memoir, I began writing my own encyclopedic snippets, trying to recreate her cleverness. I told myself that my work was my own, that I was simply “inspired by” her book. But after a few pages, I had to admit that it wasn’t so much emulation as plagiarism, and poor plagiarism at that. So I tucked my attempt away and forgot about it.

Today I stumbled upon the file, and it really put a smile on my face. Not only did it remind me of how much I enjoyed Encyclopedia of an Ordinary Life, which I’ve been re-reading and re-enjoying all afternoon, but some of my anecdotes also tickled my funny bone.

Here are three entries from the ill-fated, quickly-abandoned, somewhat-plagiarized Encyclopedia of MY Ordinary Life. I hope you enjoy them (and that Amy Krouse Rosenthal forgives me for them).

EXTREMELY LOUD AND INCREDIBLY CLOSE

In the movie Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close, there is a man who does not speak. He has the words YES and NO tattooed on the palms of his hands. While watching the movie with my husband, I noticed something interesting that I couldn’t wait to talk about when it was over.

Walking out of the theater, I proudly told my hubby, “The words were on the wrong hands! NO was on the right hand and YES was on the left. It should have been the other way around. Your right hand is the one you use to shake and take oaths. It represents your promise, your guarantee, your word. It’s symbolic. YES should be on his RIGHT hand.” I grinned at my cleverness.

My husband responded, “The whole thing was dumb. Is holding up your hand really any faster than nodding your head? I mean, what if he was carrying something?” Oh. Huh. Good point.

MISUNDERSTOOD SONG LYRICS

Whenever I watch The Big Bang Theory (which is a LOT) I can never understand or remember if the theme song is staying “dense” or “tense”. They both seem like they could work. “The whole universe was in a hot ______ state.” Every single time, I have to ask my husband, “dense or tense” and he tells me. And I promptly forget again. Ok, it’s “dense.” I just asked him. But couldn’t the whole universe be in a hot tense state too? Sometimes I think it is.

In the song “No Rain” by Blind Melon, I thought for a very long time that he was saying, “You know I like to keep my cheating strategied (pronounced STRA-ti-ge-ee-ed.” I now know he is actually saying, “You know I’d like to keep my cheeks dry today.” Fine. But really, if you were cheating a lot, wouldn’t you want to have a strategy to keep it all from falling apart?

I still have no idea what the lyrics to “Roam” are, but that has not prevented me from singing along with the B-52’s at the top of my lungs for the past twenty years.

SPIDER, FAKE

I found my fake tarantula in a drawer in my classroom the other day and decided to bring it home. (I am quitting teaching at the end of this year, so I have been taking home about one item a day from school that I want to keep. At this rate, I will have my entire classroom cleaned out by August of 2013.)* Not having any better place to carry the fake spider, I put it in my purse. (Yes, you already know where this story is going, but I’m going to tell it anyway.)

I have a very short attention span. I am very good about following through on tasks and getting things done, but that is because I write EVERYTHING down. If I don’t, I forget it. I can be less than five minutes away from my house and think to myself, As soon as you walk in the door, go write shaving cream on the grocery list. Do it. Shaving cream, shaving cream, shaving cream, shaving cream, shaving… I wonder if I should postpone that vocab quiz until Friday. And then it’s gone. I won’t realize until I get home from the grocery store the next day and then try to shave my legs, that I’ve forgotten to write down shaving cream. So when I told myself I would take the spider out of my purse when I got home, I didn’t even pretend to believe myself.

The next morning on the way to work, I was stopped at a red light (thank goodness) when I decided to get my work badge and keys out of my purse. Half looking at the road, half looking at my purse, I pulled the silver lanyard out, felt the extra heaviness of it, glanced over, saw that giant tarantula hanging from the clasp by his hairy legs and screamed so loud I hurt my own ears. The whole time my brain was yelling, “Stop, you idiot! It’s the fake spider! You knew it was in there! You knew this would happen! You’re making a fool of yourself!” But my body wouldn’t listen, couldn’t keep up, and was just trying not to have a heart attack.

Afterwards, I didn’t know what to do. I knew I couldn’t put it back in my purse because in just five short minutes I would forget it was there again and repeat the whole process, maybe while going 60 mph. The light turned green, so I stuffed the thing in the glove compartment. And forgot about it. Now, every time I open the glove compartment, I scare myself, but I still can’t remember it’s in there long enough to take it out. **

*2014 Note: I actually managed to clean out my classroom much sooner than that, thank you very much, former self.

** I don’t think the spider is still in there. I’m pretty sure I moved it… somewhere else. ?

That’s all, folks.

I’m going to keep the rest of the entries to myself, since many of them were even more embarrassing than these. But I highly recommend you read Encyclopedia of an Ordinary Life by Amy Krouse Rosenthal. It should brighten your day whether the news has gotten you down or not.

How I Got Here: My Life With Books

I’ve been reading a lot lately. What is “a lot”? Well, my goal was to read 50 books in 2014. As of the end of July, I’ve already finished 46. So, a LOT.

Part of the reason for the recent spike in numbers is the discovery of two new forms of reading: audio books and the Kindle app on my phone. Since January, I’ve listened to audio books almost exclusively in the car. I’m not very up-to-date on the news of the world, and I’ve probably missed out on at least a half a dozen new pop songs, but I’ve “read” fourteen novels while sitting in traffic or running errands, and I think I’m a better person for it. Without audio books, my current total for the year so far would be 32, just about on par with my goal. But with them, I’m looking at a possibility of 80 or more books this year, which is pretty cool.

I live in a household with no e-readers or iPads (shocking, I know) but this year I discovered the Kindle app on my phone and put it to use. It’s still not my preferred format—I’ve only read four books this way so far—but I do find it useful for reading in bed. My husband can’t sleep if I leave the lamp on, but the dim glow of my phone’s screen doesn’t bother him, so I can read long after he zonks out. Unless the book makes me laugh out loud like Graeme Simsions’ The Rosie Project did. Then I’m busted and have to turn off the phone. (To read Lauren Henderson’s review of The Rosie Project, click here. I agree with her completely.)

All this reading has made me look back on my life as a reader with Wonder Years-colored glasses.

I don’t remember exactly when I learned to read, and I can’t clearly conjure up the process, but I have vague memories of not being able to read at all—staring at the words on the page of my dad’s newspaper or my mom’s novel and wondering what they said, or holding up a book and pretending to read it, making up the story as I went. I also remember, later, practicing my reading with the Sunday comics, things like Garfield that had few words and familiar themes.

That’s about as far as the memory goes. I couldn’t read, and then I could. I don’t recall much about the steps in between.

But once in a while I get a glimpse of that blurry phase in the middle. Due to fatigue or distraction, I misread something, and all of a sudden I remember that struggle, how exhausting it could be trying to decipher the BIG words on the page. Today it was the word “mythmaking” in an article in Writer’s Digest. My mind wanted to divide it after the y instead of the h and, for just a second, I was thinking, “My-what? My-thmaking?” Of course, it only took a moment for me to realize my error and move on.

That time.

A few months back, though, I was reading Raiders! The Story of the Greatest Fan Film Ever Made aloud to my husband in the car. The author described a house called “Manyoaks.” About the fourth time that I said, “Man-yokes,” Mark stopped me. “What are you saying?” he asked. That’s when I realized my mistake. The house was named “Many-oaks” not “Man-yoaks.” We laughed for miles.

Once I learned to read, I was a good reader but not a voracious one. I watched a lot of TV and played a lot of video games and spent a lot of time in my backyard. Although I loved buying books from the Scholastic catalogues, I didn’t always read them. I wouldn’t call myself a hyperactive kid, but I don’t remember having the patience to sit down and read a book long enough to get into it. My mom likes to talk about how hard it was to get me to do my weekly assignments out of the “home readers” we were given. She says I was very critical of them, always asking, “Well, why did they say it that way? Why did they write it like that?” I guess I was born an editor.

I did enjoy being read to though—Mom read me the Bunnicula books and Dad read Hank the Cowdog—and in the sixth grade when we read Bridge to Terabithia as a class, I learned how much fun it could be to study a book as a group. That love followed me though middle and high school where I enjoyed analyzing the novels and dissecting them, but still often did not actually finish them, if left to read them on my own.

It wasn’t until college when I started truly reading for pleasure. I bought books and stayed up late reading them. I wrote in the margins and swapped titles with friends. I started a journal where I listed all the books I read and discovered the value of never going anywhere without something to read.

For years, I’ve craved the “home of overflowing books,” that image that’s such a staple in books and movies about teachers and writers and scholars. In these scenes, there are always floor to ceiling bookshelves lining the walls and someone is always having to move a stack of books off a chair for someone else to sit down. There are books tucked everywhere in the room and at least two or three are always lying open. I love these rooms, these scenes. I want to be these characters.

Only recently have I realized how close I’ve come to achieving that dream.

I do live in a house of books, and I read them, and I love them, and if you want me to, I’ll talk to you about them all day long. However, thanks to the public library and audio books and my Kindle app, there’s still room for you to sit down when you come over. I’m more likely to have to move a cat off a chair than a pile of books.

In interviews, most writers say they were bookworms as children. The phrase “read everything I could get my hands on” comes up a lot, as does the description of books as their “closest friends.” In a way, I’ve been envious of those childhoods, slightly embarrassed at all the required reading I left unfinished, all the coming-of-age titles that I didn’t read until I was already of age. But I’ve come to embrace my own history with books. It may have taken me longer than some to discover the beauty of reading, but I’m here now and I’m happy. I don’t think it matters how I arrived.

Carie’s Lists: 11 Reasons for Teachers to Get Excited About Back-to-School

It’s that time of year again. Commercial breaks are filled with bright-colored backpacks and smiling children and actors portraying calm, confident teachers with not a hair out of place. Department stores put up giant signs shaped like pencils and everywhere you look, it’s SALE SALE SALE! It’s Back-to-School time.

But, the thing is, it’s NOT actually time to go back to school yet. It’s still a few weeks away, a few precious weeks for those educators who need every second of their well-deserved breaks. I see posts from teacher friends on Facebook, and I remember what it was like to have my summer cut short by insensitive advertising and early reminders.

Teacher 1– “Stop with all the Back-to-School stuff! It’s not even August yet!”

Teacher 2– “I can’t turn on the TV or leave the house without being reminded that summer is almost over. If you need me, I’ll be sitting at home in the dark eating chocolate.”

Teacher 3– “If I hear one more person say, ‘School is almost here!’ I’m going to snap.”

Poor teachers.

Hiding in your house eating chocolate will only save you for so long. Eventually, you have to accept that it is almost Back-to-School time. Since it’s unavoidable, you might as well get excited about it. Here are some things to look forward to.

11 Reasons for Teachers to Get Excited About Back-to-School

1. School Supplies

While the commercials for school supplies may be unsettling, the actual shopping for school supplies is kind of awesome. It was one of my favorite things about being a teacher. When asked why they teach, other people tend to cite things like: an affection for children, a desire to make the world a better place, and an interest in their subject matter. I quickly realized that “the smell of fresh composition books and a love of sharpening pencils” was not an appropriate answer.

2. Free AC

August in Texas means 100-degree temperatures, and 100-degree temperatures mean high electricity bills. Instead of paying for your comfort out of your own pocket, set your home AC to 80 and bask in the freezing cold temperatures of your classroom instead.

3. Get Away From Your Kids

I’m not a parent myself, but I assume that, no matter how much you love your offspring, two months straight with them is too much. I think I’m right, because there’s a lot less complaining about Back-to-School stuff from my teacher friends who have children. Look forward to those hours of kid-free inservice meetings and staff development seminars. Think of it as “me time.”

4. Once Again Be Among the Day People

If you don’t have kids, there’s a good chance you’ve become somewhat vampire-like as the summer weeks have passed. Going back to school is your chance to blink into the sunlight, see what’s changed in the world, be among the day people again. (That first morning, though, might be a little rough.)

5. Annual Strangest Name Competition

Yes, those last few inservice days before school starts can be stressful, but then there’s the moment when you get your class rosters and everything stops while you scan the lists and compare names. I always enjoyed looking for siblings of kids I’d taught and any celebrity impersonators. (I’ve taught Will Smith and Rachel Green.) But the most fun is competing with fellow teachers for the most unusual student names. Unfortunately, I can’t claim to be the winner here. A friend of mine once taught twin girls who both had the exact same name. True story.

6. Endless Possibilities

You have a brand new, unopened planner. The dry erase boards are clean. No one has been late to your class yet or forgotten to turn in an assignment. Maybe this year you won’t get behind. Maybe this year you’ll finally figure out how to grade everything and still have a life. Maybe this year there will be no ill-timed fire drills, few parent conferences, and free donuts every single Friday. Maybe, just maybe. Until it begins, the possibilities are endless.

7. The Old “Naked at School” Dream

With the start of school, you can also look forward to the school-related nightmares. Maybe the “I’m changing clothes in my classroom and I forgot to lock the door” classic or the “How have I taught all day without realizing I forgot my pants?” variation. Or perhaps you prefer the “I’m back in high school and can’t find the classroom for my final” or the “I just realized I never actually graduated college” options. It doesn’t matter what you choose—they’re all good. Just remember, the best part is waking up.

8. First Day of School

I always loved the first day of school. First days are full of excitement and enthusiasm and usually at least one poor lost soul whose day you get to brighten just by knowing where room 1132 is. It may be hard to look forward to the 100^th day of school or the 43^rd or even sometimes the 2^nd, but you should always look forward to the first. Read about some of my favorite first day traditions here.

9. Fresh Start

Part of the beauty of the first day is the fact that it exists at all. Teaching is one of the few jobs I know that has a clear beginning and a clear ending and a little (sometimes not enough) breathing room in between. The fact that you get that fresh start is a blessing. No matter how hard the year is, no matter how difficult the students (or the parents) are, no matter how far behind you get in your curriculum, the last day of school will eventually come, and two months later you’ll get the chance to start all over again. Be grateful for that.

The Many Faces of Ms. Kinder/Juettner - The middle left photo has got to be my first year of teaching because I look 12. — The Many Faces of Ms. Kinder/Juettner, a.k.a A Collage of Bad Hair Days: Here are 9 of my 13 faculty yearbook pics. (The other 4 are MIA.) The middle left photo must be my first year of teaching because I think I look 12.

10. School Pictures

In these days of phone pics and selfies and constant photo documentation, there’s nothing quite so old school as sitting on a stool in front of a blue backdrop and having your picture taken for the yearbook. Back straight, feet on the X, chin up, aaaaaaaaaand SMILE! As a teacher, I never knew what to do with the sheets of photos I was given each year, which is why I have a box full of them now. Still, picture day is a classic school moment and should be appreciated accordingly.

11. You Love What You Do

The best reason to get excited about Back-to-School time? Deep down you love what you do. Yes, you wish the summer were longer; yes, you deserve a much higher salary; yes, there will be days when you will have to force yourself to get out of bed and go back to that classroom. But you’ll do it, and most of the time, you’ll like it. Being a teacher is not just what you do, it’s who you are. It’s who I used to be too and honestly, all those Back-to-School commercials just make me wistful for seating charts and first day packets and decorating the covers of writer’s notebooks.

So embrace the Back-to-School time. Shop for glue sticks with gusto, come up with a wacky new way to organize your classroom, and revel in every unexpected jeans day the administration throws your way. When the first day comes, you’ll be ready. And I’ll be cheering for you.