Tornadoes, Yearbooks & Firestorms

[The tornado photograph was taken by one of the art teachers from her window. My rooms are located next to the art room.]

Thankfully I didn't have to whip out the flying monkeys during yearbook distribution week. I guess the tornado counted as enough excitement.

Yep, we're talking tornado here… as in the Wizard of Oz except minus the ruby red slippers, some singing munchkins and the witch. Oh, wait, I think I've got that witch part covered.

The day before the big Yearbook Distribution extravaganza and right after we had rechecked and resorted all 1,300 yearbooks, one of the assistant principals announced rather calmly to take cover and for teachers to sweep kids who were out in the parking lot and halls to safety.

Since my classroom is located next to the parking lot, I went outside to rustle up the kids who were still walking to class since there were about two minutes left in the passing period.

Yep, I waltz right out into the parking lot, and there it was. Jeez Louise, Mr. Tornado was right there. For a brief moment, I stood paralyzed. Not from the fear of Mr. Tornado. No siree, Missy.

Paralyzed because all I could think about were those 1,300 yearbooks in my room, all neatly sorted by fifth period classes and ready for distribution.

The thought of all those yearbooks being sucked into oblivion, having to reprint them all and re-sort them all was scarier than actually seeing the darn twister. 

It took me about a brief second to realize there was nothing to do, but rustle up the kiddos and sprint back into the building for cover.

I did stop by my room, though, and, for a brief moment, considered waiting out the storm with the yearbooks in the publications room instead of moving into the interior designated room of my hall monitoring buddy.

Instead, some common sense prevailed and I grabbed my keys and went to the designated shelter room.

I figured if the tornado hit but left my trusty blue mini-van, I would hop in and take off. Take off as in hit the road jack and don't come back no more, no more, no more.

Thankfully, the tornado moved on missing the high school and spending most of its energy above the ground. 

My little tornado incident paled in comparison to the stuff going on elsewhere. I'm pretty sure the folks over at Massaponax High School in Virginia would much rather have come face-to-face with Mr. Tornado than be involved in the yearbook storm over there.

According to news reports, the kiddos printed "confessions" and scattered quotes with sexual innuendoes throughout their yearbook. Jeepers creepers. We're talking about stuff like…

• "I have sex with people just to feel wanted."
• "I worry all the time my ex-boyfriend will use the naked picture I sent him to ruin my life."
• "I had an abortion and my mom doesn't know."
• "I once did so much pot that I woke up high."
• "I'm pregnant with my best friend's boyfriend's kid."

Stuff like that just makes me wonder what part of that equation ever sounded like a good idea? Secrets, teens, sex, abortions, drugs… does anything good EVER come out of that mix? 

Yep, Mr. Tornado and even the flying monkeys look  pretty good compared to that.

I do want a pair of ruby red slippers, though. You know, just in case.


[A newsier version of this post was  first published as Yearbook Content Creates Controversy on Technorati.]

D-Day, Riots & Survival Tips

Whew! I survived.

In spite of the one Richie hater.

In spite of my yearbook editor’s absence.

In spite of the near yearbook riot from the kids who returned from the zoo field trip and demanded their yearbooks right then and there.

In spite of the dozen or so books with a torn page 155.

Yep, the distribution of all 1,200 or so 2009 yearbooks in a mere 50 minutes is now one for the memory books. So what better time to jot down a few hints for D-Day (that’s Distribution Day for those of you not in the biz).

Richie’s D-Day Rules

Tip #5… It ain’t no thing…
Before you hand out those yearbooks, have students who are not on the yearbook staff go through the book page by page by page looking for bad things… You know, things like naked people and bad stuff and all those things that belong in the “Things That Will Get You Fired” folder.

Tip #4… Don’t be a Dingaling. Let it ring…
No siree, Missy. Never, ever, ever pick up the phone during D-Day. Let that call go straight into voicemail. Trust me, it is not Ed McMahon calling to say you won the million dollar sweepstakes. Nor is it your superintendent telling you the school board loves you so-o-o-o-o much they’re sending you to the Bahamas. Nope. Instead, embrace technology. Use voicemail. Trust me, you’ll be glad you did.

Tip #3… Controlled Chaos
Be more organized than the King of Organization, Peter Walsh. Become the List Queen. We have a list for everything. A list of people who purchased books, a list of people who still owe money, a list of distribution teams, a color coded map of distribution classrooms, an escape map and hatch…OK, OK, OK, so maybe not that… but perhaps we should.

Tip #2… Kickin’ it…
Take a kickboxing class. Really. I just started taking a class. Who knew hitting stuff could be so much fun? I even bought some fancy schmancy kickboxing gloves. My exercise buddy emailed me afraid I would have to miss our class because of D-Day. I emailed her back saying I planned to go especially because I was handing out yearbooks. I added, “I think I’ll need to hit something. It probably ought to be a bag.”

And Richie’s Number One Tip… Can we have a drum roll pah-leese…
Tip #1…Give ’em an offer, they just gotta refuse…
I always send out a clever little email called, “Ask the Yearbook Diva” containing those frequently asked questions about distribution and yearbooks. This year I ended my FAQs like this… Gotta a problem with the Diva? Call Dr. Al at ext. 1016 and tell him you want to be the yearbook adviser.

Any bets on how many takers there were?

Carnival of Education Is Out!

It’s Woo-hoo Wednesday, and I must say, things are looking good. We’ve got the 1,200+ yearbooks sorted, the school newspapers delivered, and I haven’t died of the ink fumes (yet). Oh, and most importantly, the Education Wonks–home of the Carnival of Education–is back after a somewhat lengthy hiatus, and the Carnival of Education is up and running over there.

My post “Yearbook Panic, Brown Bags & Underwear” was included, but you don’t have to go there to read it here. Still, if you want to know all the greatness bandying about the EduSphere, then you really must go there. I promise you won’t be disappointed. Lots of great posts to choose from. And hey, while you’re over there, make sure you give Ed a big WELCOME BACK!

And say a little prayer, cross your fingers and your toes and wish me luck. Tomorrow the yearbooks go out to the kiddos.

Yearbook Panic, Brown Bags & Underwear

I spent most of the weekend trying not to hyperventilate and trying, rather unsuccessfully, to ignore my annual YBP–as in YearBookPanic.

Forget the Y2K hullabaloo. Never mind the stock market meltdown. And don’t you even worry your pretty head about the Swine Flu Pandemic Panic.

YBP eclipses everything. Nothing–and I do mean nothing–quite sends chills up and down your spine like yearbook delivery time. (I’ve written about it before. Let’s all hope we can go another year yelling, “Not it! Not it! Not it!)

Apparently my sick, twisted friends over at my yearbook reps office didn’t think I was quite jittery and jumpy enough. No siree, Missy. They thought it would be hilarious to send me that CNN link about the girl from Florida who went to school sans underwear, sat in the front row for her club group photograph and now appears to have pulled a Paris Hilton-Britney Spears-Lindsay Lohan shot for all eternity in the 2009 Sickles High School Yearbook (minus, of course, any good fame or fortune).




Mom now wants the school to quit handing out the yearbooks, confiscate the ones already passed out and reprint the entire book minus the offending photograph.

Jeepers Creepers. Someone hand me a brown paper bag. So you can see why I can’t wait until the 1,300 copies of our 2009 yearbook appear at my schoolhouse door. I’m sure there’s a mistake or two somewhere in those 304 pages despite ordering everything checked and rechecked. We do name checks. We do hand gesture checks. We do fact checks. We check, recheck and check again.

But an underwear check? Goodness gracious.