De Nile

August 2 Makes Declaration

Dear Facebook Family,

I, Shawn Wise, being of sound and sane mind, do today, declare that I’m taking a break from the Facebook world.

Please, if you do need to reach me my email is Shawnbwise@gmail.com.

Have a safe and fabulous summer holiday!

August 3 Shares Photo

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The big swing tree is still standing at Grammie Bea’s on Great Diamond Island!
#neveraquitter

Is it Worth It? A Story of Half-As* Housekeeping

 

I find myself staring blankly at the smudge on our floor beneath the dish washing machine. That smudge is from an unidentifiable foreign object that may be associated with Aunt Jemima, Box Merlot or an Ice Cream Sammy. Regardless, the color has noticeably changed over the last 2 weeks or so. Like the sudden realization last week that I have sun-spots- A LOT of sun-spots that have so callously appeared on my skin without warning- I curiously wonder if that spot has always been there or has it just recently emerged as a new Wise-Guys visual stimulation-exhibit?

Does it cross my mind to wipe it up? Well, yea, in my absent-minded-Amelia-Bedelia-like way…I’ll get to that spot…perhaps.

Sitting on the boy’s bathroom toilet (trying not to touch too much) waiting for the younger one to finish his bath (in a tub you couldn’t PAY me to take a soak in at this point), my eyes adjust and focus on 3 of the thin slips of plastic that one peels from a bandaid.  One slip of plastic is intimately connected with the small, round “cover”- (bolt cap, see featured image). That area, surrounded by RED circle and dotted/splashed with yellow represents THE MOST DISGUSTING GAG-INDUCING PART OF THE TOILET. What the hel* happens in this bathroom? Seriously, are my boys urinating all over the toilet on purpose? To spite me? No one in my home ever thinks to ask who is cleaning the toilets, even as I’m screeching at them to back it up, I’m cleaning the toilets. I’m getting a bit nervous about the lack of urgency (pun intended) regarding the bathroom hygiene in my home. Knowing that sooner or later I would have to take care of the bandaid invaders, I add it to running mental list of things to avoid/do/avoid.

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The Yellow Part of the Toilet Diagram, well, that’s where I’m convinced P-Targets are located. Notice on featured image that the pee goes everywhere except where it’s supposed to…bingowater-ridge-toilet-replacement-parts-as-toilet-repair-parts-colony--together-with-easy-plan (1) (2)_LI

The Purple represents an iffy-area. Taking off this amazingly heavy ceramic piece off and placing it somewhere is Issue #1.  Insecure in my Toilet “Fixing” skills, I uncertainly place on the floor. Be aware that this cover, also, will have urine samples clinging to it (sorry, super grody).

The Orange is perhaps the most risky, fraught with danger. The diagram does not include the actual seat cover. The exposed area is one that no one is clearly interested in sanitizing. One has to basically thread bacterial wipes through and around the area which is also filled with small unmentionable DISGUSTING things…small pieces of toilet paper? Hair samples? Lego Pieces? No one wants anything to do with actually cleaning that area-except I am FORCED to deal with it.

I mean, it’s pretty bad when I keep my bathroom light off during showers or brushing my teeth so I can avoid identifying and analyzing the grime that has been steadily sneaking up on myself and family.

Per the diagram above, the area circled in RED -the bolt caps- who needs those? I’m ANNOYED by those. I know they are intended to cover the bolts, but more often than not, I am crouching, breathing through my mouth and squinting my eyes as I reach for those god-forsaken bolts when they slyly roll themselves behind the toilet. Notice the Yellow. YELLOW REPRESENTS URINE. Note the AMOUNT of Yellow OUTSIDE OF THE ACTUAL TOILET BOWL???  Why bother even having a toilet?

I have, found, due to the Half-As* Housekeeping in my home, when I do clean the bathrooms, I lord it over the others in my home-

I find myself constantly shouting to the menfolk that yes, it was ME- again- who cleaned the thrones, and that it was SOMEONE ELSE’S TURN TO TAKE CARE OF THAT CRAP!!!!!

As soon as I hear a panicked child rushing in from down the street saying he needs the bathroom and he needs to go Number 2 and then, ha ha, just as a joke, threatens Number 3 on his way towards “my” bathroom off my bedroom, I violently fling my body in front of the entrance, claiming I’m in the middle of cleaning it and they can use their OWN UPSTAIRS BATHROOM- as if I can ban them forever from my now sanitized WC.

I really love it when I wander above randomly poking my head into one or all rooms upstairs later that day and find a thoughtful surprise or two or three waiting for me to take care of in the bathroom. It’s literally never ending. The struggle is real.

 

 

My Mom Sells Booze

Before and between my days of being a proper school room teacher, I had the opportunity (sometimes not quite the right word) to engage as an employee for a number of highly regarded job sites throughout the state of Maryland. Posts include Beach 7-11 Hostess, Flapjack Dealer, Steamed-Crabs Hawker, Counselor in Training, Counselor for Real, Math Tutor (had no business taking that job over for my sister-who is a MATH teacher), UPS and Post Office Liaison, Hair Model (lasted exactly 3 days), NatureStore Holiday ELF (in a MALL, natch), Babysitter, Adultsitter, Teensitter, Petsitter, Housesitter, Bank (yes, Bank) Phone Receptionist, and Corporate Binder-Stuffer.

The Binder-Stuffer program took place in a creepy warehouse with about 10 others who all seemed to know each other from a local prisoner-work release program. I owe this opportunity all to the gals at the local Job Placement office, a typing test (on a real typewriter, vintage!)  and my habit of not reading the fine print before signing- (Oh, me? Why, yes, I ALWAYS wear houndstooth mini skirts and WHITE Buck Shoes when dealing with large, heavy, cardboard boxes as white bucksfar as my near sighted eyes can see).  Fortunately, I had occasion to stare blankly at pallets for long stretches of time while my cohorts smoked cigarettes by the back door every 11 minutes. Another job included short order cook within a wine and coffee bar (yet another misguided attempt in self-preservation within a college- that would be college number THREE for me). I fibbed a bit on the application and was stunned when I was called to train so soon after posting my availability. The beautiful, young entrepreneur that ran this show walked me through the kitchen for 8 hours until I realized that they expected me to actually, well, fill food orders! Whoopsie. I thought short-order cook meant garnishing and delivering.

I even went as far to go on an interview in the far corner of my state to see if I was interested in selling rehabbed vans to people in WHEELCHAIRS. WHAT? Had absolutely no background or business selling vans to people in wheelchairs. I don’t think I could even complete the survey that they had me do in yet another cubicle-one designed to aide companies in determining appropriate pairings between employees and employers. I remember thinking, why in GOD’S NAME am I here? This is embarrassing. I think this is around the time my parents were looking up BIPOLAR DAUGHTER on WebMD.

By far, the most highly regarded position was as a Sales Representative for two highly-competitive Wine and Spirit Distributors- which, for me and my fabulous- past- decision- making- skills regarding personal intake of liquor and beer, seemed horrifyingly natural at the time (alcohol damages a gal’s brain in that way). Well, you guessed it, seems I got myself into yet another situation that I didn’t necessarily need to be in. I wasn’t stopping at this one, however. I knew my job-experience capers needed to settle down to prove I could succeed professionally in SOMETHING (hey, why not stay a friggin teacher- LIKE YOU WENT TO ALL THOSE

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Me (l) and Jenny M. at Louis M. Martini pawing the OLD VINE.

COLLEGES FOR, MORON). My stories as a wine and spirit representative are the juiciest (no pun intended). Mostly, my kids rode around in a car that smelled like spoiled Tuaca Italian Liqueur  and was stained with gorgeous hues of Merlot and Cab Franc of varying price points and mouth feels. My kids also had the sweetest swag a toddler could wear from my liquor suppliers-I mean, what’s not appropriate with dressing a 2 year old up with a Jack Daniels Official Taste Tester cap on? Cute, right? (Paging CPS).

Each job deserves its’ own entry. This is just the beginning. Look for my flashbacks throughout the blog and enjoy.  NO JUDGING JUDYS ALLOWED.

 

Giving Thanks

Dear Friends of Room 12 B,

I’d like to give all of you a shout out for passing on such a wonderful gift this past week…the gift of the stomach virus.  How selfless of you to endow my family members with such an offering. I am astonished how considerate you and your family members have been regarding this wonderful perk of being a teacher and, well, just know that we all have you in mind as we violently heave into strategically placed pots and pans this upcoming weekend.

Cheers, you wretched children.

Mrs. Wise

 

goodbye

 

6th Grade Romance “Thanks for giving me a second chance”.

Found in 6th Grade Hallway (in 1998-waaaayyyy before texting and, well, you know…a lot of other things that a middle school child didn’t do that they now seem to excel at….use your imagination…) Oh, and it’s handwritten. In beautiful cursive. What? #thosewerethedays

Hi Adam,

Just thinking about you and me makes me think about our future. When we get older I want to have a family with you. I want to be married with you.  So do you think you can handle that. If you can’t, I will win you over. Also I can’t live or do anything without you in my heart.  My heart is filled up but with you it will more more filled with love. Also, I wish we could have a boy/girl with each other.

Tell me at lunch if you can handle that and if we can spend our lives together. Thanks for giving me a second chance. Even though what I did was stupid.

Love,

Ahleia

As I finish this blog excerpt, I’m realizing that I may have thwarted what could have been a beautiful and fulfilling relationship between two 11 year old children…whoopsie. #theycallmetheinterceptor

 

 

Casi Terminamos!

Dear Once Respectful Middle School Class,

It’s true. Our time together is almost complete. With these 19 days of school left this year, I’ll assume you’ll continue to demand immediate assistance, the truth regarding why my first name is “a boy’s name’ (trust me, I’m a girl), a new seating chart that will suit you and your social circle, (geez, if I haven’t already done this people, I’m more than likely NOT going to) almost hourly requests for a functional pencil sharpener, (ain’t nobody got time for that) and, finally, permission to visit that flashy nightclub known as The Bathroom (WHATEVER happens in those tiled palaces, it surely must require a $5 cover). For working so incredibly and mindfully this last semester, I’d like to give  a shout out to all my middle school friends and be careful…I just may follow ya’ll to high school- and, please, remember, is this the best it’s gonna get for you? Dang right.

Let’s enjoy and stay positive. Mindset, people, it’s all about our mindsets…and deodorant.

Fondly and Still Unerringly Yours,

Mrs. Wise

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Riddle Me This…

(From the Vault) Dear 7th Grade Friends,

Teacher A has been teaching you for 62 days.

Teacher A has seen a minimum of 3 Friends per day become quite frustrated at least 2 times per day.

Teacher A has 17 Friends to teach per day.

How many times a day should Teacher A expect to identify, direct, redirect, redirect, redirect, direct, transport, and follow up with each friend by Day #71?

Answer: As many times as it takes for ALL Friends to SUCCEED with PRIDE (Duh!)

Perseveringly Yours,

Mrs. Wise

P.S. Yes, I ALSO smell that from all the way over here… Haven’t you seen the size of this beak?! #gasisallyouboo 🤢 👃

 

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#idlehands #middleschool

Attention Middle School Boys of Room 239:

Whoever is slinging the sopping wet, brown globs of paper towels up to the ceiling in the upstairs boys bathroom- please meet Mr. Sands in the Custodian’s office at lunch. You’ll be slinging the (by now) cement-like paper pieces off of the ceiling until it shines like the top of the Chrysler Building! (WHAAAA? You’ve never EVEN HEARD of Annie?!!!)

I imagine you’ll also miss playing Basketball Knock-Out in Gym today, as once ya’ll are done in the upstairs boy’s bathrooms, you can head on down to Ms. Rita’s art room where you can begin the tasty task of removing all of the Sparkling Grape Hubba-Bubba gum from underneath the art station desks (MMMMMM….sounds DELISH).

To the Middle School Boys AND Girls of Room 239:

Asking for 10 sentences to create a paragraph is NOT THAT DIFFICULT, people. You’ve spoken more sentences persuading me to drop the assignment just now.

Your classroom pencil sharpener is no longer available as your “office water cooler”. In addition, please arrange to have your brain wrap around the idea that I am a teacher. I hear all. I see all. I am all (Ladies and Gents, I was also once a middle-school student…).

Lastly, I suggest you find other outlets for your vertical pitching skills and masticating needs. And, for GOD’S SAKE stop snatching all of my rubber bands off of my desk…MY desk.

Fondly, Mrs. Wise