Tuesday, September 28, 2010

Random musings of a 2nd grader?

So, Grace has a school journal and she has to write one entry per week, about anything she wants. The teacher corrects her spelling and grammar (which pisses Gracie off), and asks some questions for her to answer. Anyway, the first entry was about our trip to Boise and the teacher asked what else she did on the trip so the next entry she talked about the water park. I told her to go ahead and answer UNDER the journal questions and then write a totally new entry about whatever she wanted. I have provided for you, a verbatim excerpt of the journal.
This is the question and answer:

Mrs. B: I love to swim. Are you a good swimmer? Did you go swimming a lot this summer?

Grace: Yes I did. Did you have a good summer? And yes, I'm a very good swimmer.

Journal entry 9/28/2010

Today at school at math time I did 4+4=8 8-4=4. I also learnd 6+3=9 9-3=6 9-6=3 but, I like math it is fun at my school. But, sometims it can get a little boring. Mrs. B, was your school ever a little boring?


For some reason this cracked me up. All of it. Especially how she has decided to ask the teacher questions. Sarah thinks she has a future in litigation. I think she has a future in police interviews. Grace, however, wants to become a veterinarian.

Wednesday, September 8, 2010

How social work is like selling cars, and other life lessons.

Sarah called tonight upset about her "intro to case management" social work class at the community college. She said the teacher was talking about how social work involves "selling yourself" or "selling the agency you work for". Sarah said told the class she didn't enroll to become a used car salesman and the teacher inquired why exactly she did enroll. Um, to be a social worker? To learn how to do "case management"? This is why social workers A. have a bad wrap and B. are morons. Because 65 % of that class is listening to this bullshit like it's gospel.

Social work IS about selling. It's about selling people the fact that they can make good choices. That they can meet their own goals. You are "selling" them tools. Tools to help them "get better" or "recover" or whatever ridiculous social work-y buzz word you want to use. On a macro level it's about selling social justice, social change and fighting for the underdog. If you want to be a marketer or a salesman you should definitely go do that, but don't be a social worker. Marketing will make you more money and it won't be as hard.

The real jist of it is, if you are a good social worker, you don't have to sell yourself. Being good at your job and what you do IS the sales tool. Be yourself, be honest, work hard and have strong ethics and boundaries. However if you are an asshole social worker with your own agenda...then I guess you better get your marketing strategy ready, because you are going to need it. Or you could teach at a community college in Ohio.

Friday, February 19, 2010


About 4pm last week I get a call from Trev. There is screaming in the background. "Balleray! I'm in balleray!"

Back up. That morning I had this conversation.

Emma: Today is balleray at the YMCA. I need to bring my balleray outfit because we do balleray today. Just like on Tuesday and Thursday we do swimming.

Me: Ok. Fine, go get a balleray outfit. Hurry up though.

Emma went and got a purple leotard with a tutu, stuffed it into her backpack and off she went.

Fast forward to 4pm phone call.

Trevor: I came to get Emma and she wasn't in class. Her teacher said she told them she goes to the 5 year old ballet class downstairs at 4:00. She told them you paid for it and you packed her ballet outfit. So I came down here and she was in the class. (screaming in the background....TAKE ME BACK TO BALLERAY!) The ballet teacher said she didn't have her roster and Emma was so adamant that her mom paid and sent her in this outfit that they assumed it was true. She said she was in her ballet class so they let her stay. Did you pay for ballet this morning? Did you send her with this outfit??????

Apparently my child talked her way into the 5 year old ballet class at the YMCA. Then, when my husband went to get her, she wouldn't leave. Clung to the ballet bar in the dance room screaming "YOU CAN'T MAKE ME LEAVE BALLERAY! IM IN BALLERAY!" He had to pry her off.
She still maintains she is in balleray.