Secret to Student Teaching Success

It was last November that I confided to my mother-in-law that I desperately wanted a Hannah Montana lunchbox. If you want to know the truth, I have never seen the Hannah Montana show or any of the High School Musical movies. It was pure peer pressure. I was employed at an elementary school as an ESL teacher, and I just wanted to fit in. Every student had Hannah Montana notebooks, folders, backpacks, t-shirts and stretchy pants. Since stretchy pants aren't really my thing, I knew I was destined to own a Hannah Montana lunchbox. Several months later I received a package containing just that! At this point I was student teaching at Timberline Middle School and wasn't sure how the students would react to my new shiny pink lunchbox sporting a Disney Channel character. But since it's kinda 'cool for school' and since I've always been kinda a rebel (it would be completely appropriate to scoff here) I decided to bring it anyways. Let me tell you, word spread like wildfire. Señora Hekking has a Hannah Montana lunchbox. I went from regular old teacher to the cool kid on the block. Within no time students where asking me for lunchbox-fashion advice and what Disney characters would be the next big thing. Thanks Susan! You rock!

New Found Joy

Several weekends ago, Rory and I had the pleasure of heading to Laguna Beach for an all-expense paid vacay. Friday evening we flew into John Wayne airport. Yes, an airport named after a cowboy. That's how you know you are going to have a great weekend- although I was disappointed to find it completely devoid of cowboy decor and southern accents. Even more alarming was the fact that not a single soul greeted me with the ultimate cowboy platitude: "Howdy Partner". Our driver picked us up at the baggage claim and escorted us to an Escalade which brought us through the glitz and glamour of Orange County before arriving at our beachside hotel: The Montage. Now don't worry, we ain't jaded. Our driver had a keen sense of chic-ness and quick to sniff out our completely un-chic status as poor-married-college student. On the way to the hotel he was sure to point out the local Taco Bell. After the personal tour of our hotel room, I discovered my current obsession. A fountain pen. Ladies and gentlemen, if you have never scripted a sentence with a fountain pen, I urge you to go to your local chic hotel because they give them away for FREE! Unbelievable, I know. Fountain pens are the most choice writing utensils I have ever chanced to use. This certainly was an epiphanous weekend.

Farewell, My Friend

By Rory
Throughout my life I have had friends come and go, and all of them have touched my life in some way. Each one has filled a void that had not been filled before, nor been filled in the same way after. Yet about a week ago I lost a friend that filled a void so huge, it can never be replaced. The size of that void is 22,700. The BYU Marriott Center has done/been every single thing that I could ever ask for in a friend. We first met in 2004, and while I was excited to be friends, there were many difficult times. In fact only 6 out of the 14 times we hung out that first year of frienship did we end the night happy with each other. Yet, this friendship persisted and I was rewarded with countless nights ending with everyone singing "Celebrate". The Marriott Center and I were best friends.

Before I go on, I want to explain to you why this friendship means so much to me. All my life I have loved sports, both watching them and playing them. On the rare occasion that my family and I went to games, I always wanted to cheer, stand up, shout and yell. But our seats were in the old people's sections and I felt out of place. I watched with envy as the students cheered, screamed and yelled, hoping one day that I too could cheer on my team. That opportunity was given to me at the Marriott Center. I got to do all that I wanted to encourage my team, and not only was it not strange, it was accepted and encouraged. My lifelong dream was realized. The Marriott Center allowed me to finally express myself in ways that I had never been able to before.

Now some of you might be saying, Rory, you're ridiculous; or Rory, get a life. But let me ask you something: what makes a good friend? Did we spend time together? Yes. More than many outsiders think might have been healthy. Did we party together? Yes. Twice we won the MWC and got to watch Lee Cummard and others cut down the nets. Did we have sleepovers? Yes. How many people can say that they have had sleepovers with friends other than roommates since high school? The Marriott Center and I have. It is for that reason that I shed tears as I left the Marriott Center after the New Mexico heartbreaker. I had said goodbye to my friend for the last time as a student, and though we might be reunited in the future, I will have changed, the familiar faces we hung out with will be long gone, and all that we will have left in common will be the memories we shared together.

Fat Guy in a Little Coat

Yes, I just quoted one of the most idiotic movies known to mankind: Tommy Boy. Somehow I manage to watch this movie in the wee hours of the morning every time I go home and visit my family. And for someone reason at 3:00 a.m. I find it absolutely hilarious. But that is beside the point. The point is for the last four months I have been the fat guy in the little coat. I have a peacoat from high school which is a bit too small. When I'm wearing it, it looks fine, but if you take a look at the lining inside my coat it is a disaster of ripped seams repaired by me, the girl who doesn't know how to sew, with frantic whip stitches. Everytime I put on the coat before leaving the house I would find myself humming the tune of fat guy in a little coat, fat guy in a little coooaat. It was great for my self-esteem. Thankfully, I found a new coat on clearance this weekend and will no longer refer to myself as a fat guy in a little coat. To commemorate the special times we had together and the way that coat warmed my soul, I would like to play a tribute:

Pleasant Grove?

Pleasant Grove always seemed like a nice enough place. After all, it is called the City of Trees and it is P.G. that hosts the quaint Strawberry Festival every year. I've actually been meaning to go there for some time to visit Patina's and get a pink donut from Daylight's, but that becomes less appetizing as the days pass. You see on my forty five minute drive to school, I pass through P.G. At first my thoughts were, I need to go check that place out! There is nothing I love more than finding the hidden treasures in a small town. Just ask Rory about my love for Kearny, Nebraska. I adore it. Well, after a week of driving by P.G., planning my weekend visit, I noticed a terrible stench. An overpowering, putrid stench that has remained in P.G. for at least two weeks now. It's as if a sewage pipe exploded, but nobody noticed. So I took the liberty to write the P.G. Chamber of Commerce a little note. It went like this.

To whom it may concern:
I have been interested in paying a visit to your town for some town. However, the town seems to be suffering from some sort of sewage problem. It makes Pleasant Grove seem very unpleasant. Will this situation be remedied in the near future?

Cordially,
Lauren

Until I get a letter of response I will be wearing a clothespin on my nose and buying a brand new air freshener.

Student Teaching

I'm doing my student teaching at Timberline Middle School and am really excited for the semester. To give you an idea of what it's like to teach middle schoolers, I'll tell you a bit about my first day.

Day One: After introducing myself to the class, my mentor had them ask me questions in Spanish. I was asked the following questions:
Do you want to go on a date?
Do you drink alcohol?
Do you smoke illegal drugs?
Do you have feet?
Do you eat?

I can tell this semesters going to be great one. lol.

Family History

This summer we decided to start learning a bit more about our family history, specifically my Dad's family since the majority of my Mom's and his parents are done. My Dad is a convert so that involved starting with square one. My Dad is 100% Irish, which is something I really identify with. I love our Saint Patrick's Day traditions, corned beef, and spent a fair amount of my childhood doing the jig. I even own a copy of Far and Away, Riverdance, and The Secret of Roan Inish. I'm pretty sure that right there proves I'm hardcore Irish. Anyways, despite my love of everything Irish, I am a bit irked at my ancestors. For some reason unbeknownst to me, they decided to all be named the exact same thing. Every single one of my realtives are named Daniel, Thomas, Catherine or Mary. Not even kidding. Except for Mabel Mackey, which is such an original (and awesome) name that it was a pleasure to research her. She's the only Mabel Mackey. Ever. To make matters even more complicated, everyone with the last name McGrath lived in the same town in Ireland. And to further complicate things, they all moved to Chicago. So after researching all 57 Daniel Rooneys we completed a five generation pedigree chart. In order to continue we will be setting sail for Ireland in 9.5 years. It's going to be awesome.