Final Teaching Notes and HELLO AGAIN KITCHEN I MISSED YOU

Hello, Dear Reader! Or should I say Hello, Dear Reader, from the porch at the farm!

That's right, BEETLE IS HOME!

Ah so much to relate, so much to reflect upon, so much I still have no idea how to process let alone turn it into a coherent (or as coherent as these things get) blog post. Suffice to say, I have spent the time since Saturday evening a) unpacking, refolding, and re-categorizing my drawers b) cooking!!! cooking cooking cooking! c) following my cats around like a pathetic insane lady and picking them up every time they pause to pick them up and bury my face in their necks and go I MISSED YOU SO MUCH d) NOT getting up at 4am to spin and/or run. Enough of that insanity. 5am is nice and normal, thank you very much. 

HOWEVER. I feel I must sum up in some way the last 5 (!!) weeks. 

THINGS I LEARNED AT EMMA WILLARD SCHOOL DURING THE LAST FIVE WEEKS

• How to drive an 11-passenger van on the interstate in the middle of a rainstorm. 
• The blessed and crucial finality of the retort "BECAUSE I SAID SO." 
• People still think that "vegetarian option" means "pasta with tomato sauce that may or may not contain meat."
• Tofu is not something readily available in upstate New York. 
• I have reached an advanced enough age that I actually cannot keep the band members of One Direction straight. This does not actually bother me that much. 
• Girls between the ages of 12 and 16 ARE ALWAYS HUNGRY. 
• NO REALLY. I'M SERIOUS. THEY ARE ALWAYS HUNGRY. 
• See above, when this happens, they lose all ability to function to the point that they lack basic speech and movement skills. The only thing they are capable of doing is saying "OMG I'M SO HUNGRY" over and over and over again until you feed them. 
• If there is a coffee shop somewhere within a ten mile radius of wherever you happen to be, they will find it, go in, and order mocha/soy/latte/cappuccino/cocoa/coffee/chai and return before you've even realised they are missing from your head count. 
• If they are exiting a minivan, and you ask that the last person out close the sliding door behind them, it does not matter how many times you do this, it will not happen. Nope. Ever. Not happening. 
• When you email an assignment sheet to them to read during study hall and come in the next day with "thoughts and questions" you will be greeted the following morning with "wait you sent us an email?"
• I have not lost the ability to liberate food from the dining hall of an educational institution. If anything, my powers have increased with age and importance. Thanks, Wellesley. 
• What I HAVE lost is the ability to share a kitchen with someone who is not Mum. This does not bode well for either my boyfriend Chris Hemsworth OR my husband Bruce Willis. But as long as they stay out and let me clean and disinfect for a large portion of every day, we will be just fine. It's ok, you guys, it's under control. 
• The best feeling on earth is a classroom full of hands and "ooh ooh oohs" because everyone has an opinion about what you are discussing. 
• Second to that is walking into the dining hall and having every one of your students shriek, throw back their chairs, and run at you because they have figured something out they HAVE TO TELL YOU RIGHT NOW OMG. 
• If even a fraction of the happiness I experienced is what's in store for me in the future, then I have made the best decision I have ever made in my entire life. 
• I freaking LOVE teaching. 
• No, really. I LOVE IT SO HARD. 

Like I said, most of what happened is still being processed. So this is just skimming the surface. But what I can tell you, dear reader, is that I loved it I loved I loved it. And I want more. As soon as possible. 

I'M IN, YOU GUYS. ALL IN.

The helpful part of "updates" is that I'm now part of Carney Sandoe, the teacher recruitment agency, which for the first time means it's not just "Hi I'm Beetle I'm really awesome you should hire me even though I have nothing to back this up." It's now coming through an official source. Fingers crossed, this will mean significantly less radio silence on the other side of email, and hopefully a lot less psh say what? on the part of whoever is reading my cover letters. So we wait, dear reader, we wait. And continue to pray to all the known dieties, and occasionally make small, humane, vegetarian, sacrifices. 

BUT NOW TO PARTIES AND SUCH LIKE

Friday, the last day of classes, was spent peer editing followed by GLUTEN FREE SPARKLE CUPCAKE PARTY combined with EXTREME FLOWER CROWN MAKING PARTY. 

I know. It's a lot to process. Take your time. 

So once again, because I love my girls THAT MUCH and because I AM A WARRIOR BEETLE I faced down the Dorm Pit Kitchen in a final epic cupcake battle. It was that or tell them on the last class of the summer that there were no cupcakes. And what kind of teacher would that make me, you guys? What kind of HUMAN BEING would that make me? Nope, it was cupcakes or nothing. Beetle got suited up. 

It was a long and brutal slog, and both sides sustained heavy losses. It was a battle for the history books, chronicled in lore and song, about a Fearless Beetle armed only with a wooden spoon of questionable origin and a saucepan of dubious make, and a Pit Kitchen that with every second seemed more potentially germ-filled and terrifying. Would the cabinets reveal some hitherto unseen horror? Would the counters be mysteriously sticky even after the application of organic cleaner? Would the oven prove recalcitrant and burn the cupcakes in the two minutes it takes to walk down the perilous flight of stairs? WHAT WOULD HAPPEN, DEAR READER? 

I'LL TELL YOU WHAT HAPPENED.

I WIN, DORM PIT KITCHEN. I WIN. 

Thick and Sparkly = The way the top of a cupcake should be.

I used the same recipes as last time, Joy of Baking for Yellow and Chocolate Cupcakes, and replaced regular flour with gluten free. I KNOW I KNOW I KNOW I've heard it before. But as I said, I'm not giving ANYTHING to a 14 year old that has psyllium husk in it. It would just be MEAN.

Same for icing, too, just a hell of a lot more.

We've already discussed the importance of frosting to sprinkles. And their relative ratio to cupcake.



I made THREE dozen this time, 2 dozen chocolate and 1 dozen yellow, because the original 24 were gone faster than blinking. So I figured better have MORE than NOT ENOUGH. (see point above about being hungry all the time.)

And nothing says "teenager sad face" like "there aren't any more cupcakes and I really want one."

Thank you for allowing me to be crazy.

I, shockingly, had a few left over. (I'm chalking it up to distraction brought on by flower crowns? It's the only thing I can think of.) So I marched right over to the administration building and gave them to my awesome beyond awesome Security guys, the ones who not only let me into the gym at 4 in the morning, but who only made fun of me a little bit (at least to my face). Both of which were very appreciated.

Cupcakes say that.

In conclusion, GLUTEN FREE SPARKLE CUPCAKES FOR ALL. 


AND NOW FOR EXTREME FLOWER CROWN MAKING 

Remember the flower crowns I made for Midsummer's Eve? These were NOT the same thing. Reasons for that were a) I didn't really feel like picking 8 million wildflowers on the roadside in downtown Troy. Call me crazy. b) I didn't have time for the above. I did have time to go to Party City, however. c) In justifying a and b to myself and trying not to feel horribly guilty for "faking it" I decided that it would be nice to have something you could keep and remember rather than a mass of wilted flowers you'd have to throw away. Did it make me feel better? Slightly. Do I still twitch when I think of it? Maybe a little.

However, the same principle of flower crowns applied. That principle being, essentially let's all pretend we're fairy princesses because we secretly believe that we are. I'd like to state for the record that my girls rose to the occasion magnificently. Sugared out of their minds, they proceeded to make crowns like FAIRY GANGBUSTERS.

Herewith are the backs of their heads, because I'm still neurotic about posting photos of them.

Crepe paper, wire, lots and lots of ribbon.

Lots and lots of fake flowers. 

Basically I cleaned out Party City. They thought I was crazy when I checked out. 

And maybe I was. CRAZY EXCITED THAT IS.
Note the black crepe paper here. This was "goth" fairy.
Respect. 

Mine was significantly less daring, more your average "I'm going to be Galadriel / Arwen for the evening" and since it's hard to take photos of the back of your own head, especially with an SLR, here are some I just took.

There was a significant train of jute involved. Like there would be. 

And of course overlapping leaves. 

I also made a fun ring/bracelet cuff thingy out of leaves, but it's really hard to get a picture of it.
At least one that looks pretty and not like a paper leaf just vomited sparkle wire. 

SO THAT'S THE TEMPORARY END OF BEETLE TEACHING POSTS. (hopefully really temporary . . . ) but console yourselves (and me) with the fact that I cooked all weekend. Yep. Kitchen withdrawl has been addressed. 

Saturday night was EPIC OMELETTE NIGHT. I tried to get a picture but it was eaten almost instantly. All I could manage to understand was Mum through a giant mouthful of the above going "I'm so f**king glad you're home." 

Sunday night was Broiled Herbed Flounder with Spinach and Seaweed Salad. 

I've decided, thanks to a quick flip through of Country Living UK that I am going to start making seaweed a lot more. I'm excited about this. It's delicious and it's actually crazy good for you. Win win, eh? 

Mum came home Monday night to find Top Gear on television, me humming in that maniacally happy way I have done since I was a baby, and to the following:

Fig Jam Thumbprint Cookies

Wheaten French Bread with Cornmeal

Tomato and Garlic Bread Pudding

So get ready, oh my dearest of dear readers. 

BEETLE IS BACK.