The Richie Hata’s Club, T-Shirts & Interesting Emails

The Richie Hata’s Club grew this week, an unintentional by-product of being in the publications biz.

I shrugged it off, though, partially because I was wearing my nifty, spiffy “Don’t Be A Big Fat Stupid Head” t-shirt. I decided it was worth the money to print the minimum dozen order, so I could wear one willy-nilly through the halls surreptitiously calling people a BFSH without really doing so, thereby keeping my nifty little timer ticking. Clever, huh?

I also shrugged the Hata’s off because by 9 a.m. Friday, my poor principal looked like he needed an entire case of BFSH t-shirts. I would have bought him some, too, but then he would have had to increase my stipend. And well, my friends, we all know that isn’t going to happen. This is Tejas, after all. (I probably should explain that little remark, but then that is exactly the kind of thing that would get me into all kinds of trouble–and not even a truckload of BFSH t-shirts could save me from that one. Instead, I’ll just file that little piece of info in my “Things That Will Get You Fired Folder.”)

So back to the Richie Hata’s Club. I received some “interesting” emails this week. (Remember the word “interesting” is our little code word for things that range from nine kinds of stupid to snarky to rendering one speechless.)

I received an email from a parent who was upset at me because they missed the final deadline to purchase an ad for their senior. (You know, the ads that appear in the back of a yearbook where parents run baby pictures and say wonderful things about their kiddo?) Despite mailing home the information, announcing it almost daily and posting it on the school website, the parent missed it all and missed the deadline.

The parent’s biggest complaint? The information was posted on the school website.

The parent said they couldn’t afford the Internet.

“Interesting,” I thought as I crafted my reply and clicked the “send” button.

Here was an email that apparently found its way into my inbox. I’m guessing from the Internet.

I wonder what Al Gore would have to say about that.

More Stupider, FERPA-ized & Conspiracy Theories

Is it all in my head?
Is it all in my head?
Could everything be all right without me knowing?
Is it all just some game
Where everything stays the same
Is it all in my head....?

–“Is It All In My Head” by Shawn Mullins

Stress has made me exponentially more stupider.

I know I’ve discussed this topic before, but I think I’ve cross the threshold this time. Let’s back up and start near the beginning…

Somewhere the architects of FERPA (Family Educational Rights & Privacy Act) secretly sneer at the havoc this little piece of legislation has wrought for high school publications advisers from coast-to-coast.

Now I know that FERPA supposedly was never intended to apply to student publications. (You can go here and here to read about that.) But that never stopped school attorneys from telling school districts to FERPA-ize everything, and while some may call me crazy, I have chosen not to meet Albert Einstein’s definition of insanity and keep bashing my head against the same brick wall by fighting it. It’s a losing proposition to argue otherwise. Sometimes you just have to go with the flow.

Still, I’m convinced that those FERPA writers and school attorneys must harbor a secret grudge against yearbooks and publications advisers. Maybe their names were misspelled, or perhaps a pimple was photoshopped onto their noses, or maybe those “theys” are just humorless-naysaying-mean-spirited-Richie-hata-types who plot in little backrooms on how to make hardworking-emergency-chocolate-eating-poor people like me miserable. Sometimes (OK, it’s probably more like all the time), I just want to pinch their pointy little heads off.

Now, you non-advisers probably are clueless as to what all this ranting is about. Let me bring you up-to-date speedy quick. At the beginning of the school year, school districts send home a nifty little form (ours is Christmas-green in color). Parental units check a block granting or denying permission for their kiddos picture/work,/name to be published online, in the school newspaper, in the school yearbook, on the bathroom wall. (OK, perhaps maybe not that last one). Our form gives them several choices. It goes something like this…

• Choice #1–Yes for giving permission for everything (including the yearbook), but not for directory information
• Choice #2–Yes for giving permission for publishing information in a directory
• Choice #3–No for leave my kid out of everything
• Choice #4–And then there’s some other choice, but I can’t remember because I’m old.

Admittedly, it can be confusing. And confusing it was, when I got a rather nice email from one of our very, very nice keepers of the FERPA list telling me to take a kid out of the NOs and move him into the YES list.

So I looked at my NO list and his name wasn’t there and this is how FERPA crumbled my world in one afternoon. Here’s a synopsis…

Me…I’m really confused now. If they are on the “Yes to directory,” then they can be in the yearbook right? I was only taking out the NOs.

FERPA keeper…There are 5 categories…“NO” equals NO, do not release any information. “YES SCHOOL” equals YES to anything and everything school related. “YES DIRECTORY” equals name, address, phone number can be added in a phone book directory, but this was for the elementary schools and should have never been on the High School FERPA form. They just like to make one district form. “NO RESPONSE” equals YES to everything because they never turned in a form.

Me (After I read that last email about a gazillion times, I decided it was time to throw pride down the drain and admit the obvious)…OK. I’m stupid. Just tell me this… does “YES DIRECTORY” mean YES to the yearbook?

FERPA keeper …“YES DIRECTORY” means NO to the yearbook.

I sort of felt like Liza Doolittle in My Fair Lady. (“I think I’ve got it!. I think I’ve got it!” “By George! I think she’s got it!”)

So-o-o-o-o-o NO really means NO, and YES means YES, except when YES really means NO.

See what I mean? I think I’m officially the most dumbest. I think I need to buy the FERPA keeper some emergency chocolate. Her job is crazier than mine because not only does she have to put up with the humorless-naysaying-mean-spirited-Richie-hata-types who plot in little backrooms on how to make hardworking-emergency-chocolate-eating-poor people like us miserable, she also has to put up with me.

So I did what any self-respecting, bat-crack crazy publications adviser would do––I took the four page list and cornered my principal in the cafeteria.

While I explained the whole shebang, one of the assistant principals who was standing nearby sort of took a giant step back. I think it had something to do with the fact that my eyes were a tad crazy-glazed and my voice was about an octave higher (and maybe even a bit screechier), and well, maybe, just maybe, my hands were animated just a smidge more than usual. Oh, and I think I might have had my scary-face on, too, but I was not holding any sharp objects.

At that point, my principal just gently pried the list from my fingers and told me he’d take care of it.

I didn’t have the heart to tell him about that whole Richie-hata conspiracy theory or those “theys” who congregate in backrooms.

Well, maybe next time.

ARDs, CFCs & the Very Big Fat Purple Notebook Accommodations

Editorial warning…If you don’t have a sense of humor and/or you are a card-carrying member of the Richie Hata’s Club, you should just stop reading now. (And don’t be like those who ignored the dire warnings about Hurricane Ike, refused to follow the mandatory evacuation orders and then expected a speedy-quick rescue. Nope. If you take life too seriously, just move on off.)

Last week as I walked back to my classroom, I bumped into a rather exasperated teacher friend who had just left an ARD meeting. Let’s just say every single facet of life contains those who work the system, take advantage of assistance meant for others and drive the rest of us CFC.

And no, I’m not talking about chlorofluorocarbons or blaming the ozone and global warming (although I probably could, given the current political climate). No siree, Missy. I’m talkin’ about being driven Crack Fire Crazy!

So it should come as no surprise that there are people out there who work the educational system to their advantage. I offered some consoling words to my teacher peep and headed back to class to start first period. But before I could finish taking roll, a very pleasant special education teacher delivered the Very Big Fat Purple Notebook and made me sign a sheet acknowledging its receipt and all the accommodations I must follow for the students listed therein.

And as I stuffed the Very Big Fat Purple Notebook under my desk… (Remember I’m trying to keep my desk clean, so now I’ve resorted to placing stacks of stuff under my desk. I know. I know. I know. Pretty sad.)…

Anyway, all of that got me to thinking about things. And everyone knows just how dangerous that can be for me (both in the thinking and things realm). But has that ever stopped me? No siree, Missy. So I got to thinking about what accommodations I would have in the Very Big Fat Purple Notebook if my name were in there.

Here’s what I came up with (with a little bit of help from my hall-monitoring, chicken-loving health teacher compadre).

The Very Big Fat Purple Notebook
Accommodations for Richie

Accommodation No. 5–Preferred Hours…Adjust my hours so I work 9 a.m. to noon. That specific time window finds me at my peak optimum performance and would ensure unparalleled success.

Accommodation No. 4–Extended Time…Allow modifications and extended time for any and all written materials required by the PTBs (Powers That Be). You know the kinds of things I’m talking about…things that choke the space on the top of my desk… No wait, make that the things that now clutter under my desk. Things like lesson plans, goals, objectives, in-service stuff, stuff I should grade, stuff I did grade, stuff I don’t want to grade, stuff I need to record, stuff I need to read, stuff that will get you fired…

Accommodation No. 3–Provide Outside Assistance…Allow me to leave my classroom in the midst of a lesson to run willy-nilly down the hall to consult with my peers when my carefully crafted lesson goes south.

Accommodation No. 2–Provide Peer Assistance…Provide a personal assistant to keep my desk organized and to maintain the ECD (Emergency Chocolate Drawer).

And, drum roll pah-leese, the No. 1 Accommodation in the Very Big Fat Purple Notebook–The Expresso Express… Daily delivery of Starbucks to my classroom specifically one Grande, Skinny 3-raw Sugar Latte to help me maintain my focus and steel my nerves for the day.

And hey while you’re at it, drop off a Tall Mocha Frappuccino to my hall-monitoring, chicken-loving health teacher compadre around the corner. I think she could benefit from an accommodation or two.

Shooting, Organization & Things Overheard

Well somehow we survived shooting more than 1,700 freshmen, sophomores and juniors.

Oh dear, I guess I should stop saying that. Let’s scratch that and start again.

Somehow we survived photographing more than 1,700 freshmen sophomores and juniors, but I think the Richie Hata’s Club grew exponentially in the process.

Despite spending hours on a nifty looking 3-page elaborate schedule that charted times and teachers outlining when they should bebop down to the auditorium with their students, the day pretty much was nothing more than unorganized chaos. All those teachers pretty much just took roll and then bebopped down to the auditorium when they felt like bebopping.

That all rather left me feeling like the guy in the song “Alice’s Restaurant” with his “twenty-seven 8-by-10 glossy pictures with circles and arrows and a paragraph on the back of each one” and no one to show them to. (I know. I know. I know. I should have learned my lesson from that whole Dante’s Circle of Hell incident.)

I might as well have tossed my nifty little schedule into the air, set my hair on fire and ran willy-nilly screaming out of the building. It took several trips to the ECD (Emergency Chocolate Drawer) and a rather hefty three raw sugar skinny latte to steel myself.

So much for organization.

Which, of course, at this point in my life, I’m beginning to think is way, way overrated. And which, of course, brings me to another dismal failure of mine–my desk.

I had planned to shoot a “before” picture of my desk which would clearly show its cleanliness and my new-found organizational skills in an attempt to silence the Naysaying Nellies. But sadly, by the time I got around to it, well, let’s just say I have to re-re-organize my desk just to get it back to its “before” greatness when I could actually see the brown formica.

I have this feeling that Challenge #1 of the “Richie’s Full Blown 5 -alarm Fun-Filled Educational Challenge” isn’t going to be so fun-filled especially since we’ve only completed Week #2.

Well, enough about me. This blog normally focuses on my kiddos. So now that school is back in session and my DIs (Darling Inspirations) have returned, let’s take a quick sneaky peak into the “Things Overheard & I Can’t Believe You Actually Said That” Category…

Things Overheard #1…
newspaper photo editor… “What did I do with my pants?”
me yelling from across the room… “Pants! What do you mean, ‘What did you do with your pants?’ There better be pants!”
newspaper photo editor… “Calm down… I’m wearing a grass skirt.”

As if that explained everything. As if.


Things Overheard #2…
yearbook staffer… “So we have to sell three full pages of ads? So that means a full page ad is a full page?”


Things Overheard #3…
photography student… “What’s Labor Day?”
me… “It’s a day to honor workers.”
photography student… “Oh, I thought it had to do with mothers…”
me… “Oh my…”


Things Overhead #4…
(The yearbook staff has been working diligently trying to fine tune their yearbook theme after I nixed their theme word, “Essence.”)
me… “Essence is too girly. Sounds too much like perfume.”
them… “How about ‘Substance’?”
me… “So now we’re going to hand out crack with the yearbooks?”
them… “How about ‘Epitome’?”
me…“Oh, so now we’re the epitome of stupidity?”


There were a few more suggestions, but quite frankly, they made my head explode. We finally settled on “The Fine Print,” and I think that will do just fine.

So now, I guess I better get back to that whole desk cleaning thing…but first, I think I better check out the ECD again.

Fitness, 5-Alarm Educational Challenge & Emergency Chocolate

My ladies exercise class occasionally undertakes what we call a “Fitness Challenge.”

Now, boys and girls, the Fitness Challenge should not--I repeat not--be confused with being fitness-challenged. (Which, of course, I am, but that’s not the point.) In our Fitness Challenge, we come up with a few objectives, throw in a reasonable weight loss goal (like I promise to lose 6 ounces within 4 weeks (OK, OK, OK maybe it’s a tad bit more weight), and we devise proper punishment for failing to live up to the expectations and standards of the class. In our case, it’s a money jar. Each and every failure costs a one dollar fine to the money jar.

At the end of the challenge, we empty the money jar and rush speedy quick over to a nearby Mexican restaurant to consume mass quantities of food. Let’s just say that the dinner is usually on me (and not just on my shirt either). Now, I’m not sure about the wisdom in all of that, but it sure is fun.

Well, this Fitness Challenge thing got me to thinking about things. (I know, I know, I know. We all know that happens when I get to thinking, and we all know how I feel about things.)

So, I got to thinking that perhaps I should devise an Educational Challenge, you know, with objectives, goals and consequences. (I think some of you call those lesson plans, but no, silly, I’m not talkin’ about lesson plans here--although I probably ought to rustle up some of those before next week.)

No Siree, Missy. I’m talking about a full-blown 5-alarm Educational Challenge here, strictly not for the faint of heart or Richie hatas. So let’s get right to it. We don’t have a moment to lose. After all, we’ve got five days down and done, and only 172 more school days to go, but, hey, who’s counting? Nope, not me.

Richie’s Full Blown
5-alarm Fun-Filled Educational Challenge

Challenge #5…Can I have more chocolate, please?
I realize that this one directly undermines the whole Fitness Challenge thing (which probably explains why most of my paycheck ends up in the Fitness Challenge money jar), but ah well…

Challenge #5 is to give out more (what else?) chocolate prizes. Chocolate just sets the bar at a higher standard of fabulousness for the year. I gave out chocolate to one of my classes last week for prizes and one kid exclaimed, “I just love this class!”

Forget the AEDs (Automated External Defibrillators) located throughout the school, I now have an ECD.

As in Emergency Chocolate Drawer.

I think it’ll come in quite handy throughout the year. Don’t you?

Challenge #4…Increasing membership in the RFC--Richie Fan Club and decreasing membership in the RHC--the Richie Hata’s Club…
Now my principal (who by the way is a very, very nice guy) claims there isn’t such a thing as the RHC, but we all know there are teacher-types who like us (after all, what’s not to like about us?), and we all know, sadly, that there are naysaying hatas out there too. Hails Bails, isn’t that life in general? Still, we can all try and get along, can’t we?

Last year, I identified five charter members of the RHC. (There may have been a sixth one, but I’m not sure.) Despite those five, I still managed to win a few more hearts and minds… OK, OK, OK so it usually involved mass quantities of chocolate, a few StarBucks gift certificates and some favor trading on my part. But still, I think my fan base has grown a bit from last year.

HOWEVER…

…and don’t you just hate those “howevers”?…

With underclassmen photographs scheduled for next week (you do remember I’m the yearbook adviser, don’t you?), I have a feeling that picture day will most certainly significantly and most definitely negatively impact my fan base.

I guess I better fill up the ECD. I have a feeling I’m going to need it.

Challenge #3… Big Fat Stupid Head No More
OK, all you Naysaying Nellies can stop right now. I know I have made numerous proclamations and promises NOT to say Big Fat Stupid Head, and, of course, I have failed miserably. But let’s not be dreamkillers. Let’s see if we can get beyond our record of 92 days, 19 hours, 39 minutes and 15 seconds. Let’s not concentrate on our failures. If we did that, would we have put a man on the moon? Would post-it notes have been created? Would Michael Phelps have won his gazillion gold medals? Give me the dream. Let’s start up that counter again! Let’s reach for the stars! Let’s just see just how long we can make it through the year without once--audibly--uttering, “Big Fat Stupid Head!”

Ladies and gentlemen, start your counters!

Challenge #2… Do not be a bubblehead.
This sort of goes with Challenge #3. This year I will attempt to leave my thoughts in the bubble above my head and not say them. Verbalizing the thoughts in the bubble is bad. (You know what I’m talking about, or rather, what I shouldn’t be talking about.) So, everyone, repeat after me… “The bubble is bad. Verbalizing the bubble is very, very bad indeed.”

Now before we move onto our top challenge, we need to have a money jar and agree that violations of each and every challenge will cost us a dollar a pop.

OK, now on to Challenge No. 1… Can we have a drumroll pah-leese…

Challenge #1…Ta-da! Keep my desk clean
Every year I start school with a clean desk. I neatly sort through the piles of stuff and file them, toss them or hide them. OK, OK, OK so there’s a lot of hiding going on there, but at least at the start of the school year, I can actually see the brown formica of my desk. My paper clips rest neatly housed in their black desk organizer tray, multi-colored post-it notes are stacked in their special baskets and I have neatly labeled and color-coded my file folders to say things like “Hot File,” “Budget” and “Things That Will Get You Fired 2008-2009.”

If only life were so simple.

If only my desk would remain organized.

If only the desk gremlins would stay hidden at night.

If only.

I told you that emergency chocolate was going to come in handy.