It's vacation time, so Fridays are all about the random quizzes. Rather than making you think today, let's see how you feel.
I got blue. "You are soulful, introspective, and emotionally in tune." I don't know if that's true, but whatever. (They have quizzes where they claim to guess your age based on the questions. They never get the age right.)
So, what color heart emoji did you get? Let me know in the comments.
Tomorrow, December 26th, is a Doomsday...
Many years ago, I read a book on the calendar, and there was a chapter on Lewis Carroll's method of calculating the day of the week for any date in any year. Simplifying that idea, British mathematician John Conway gave us the Doomsday Algorithm.
Every year has its Doomsday. It's a day of the week. This year (2025) it's Friday. Next year (2026) it's Saturday. (Which makes things easy as it moves forward one day every year except for leap years when it's two.)
Certain days fall on the Doomsday. Remember them, and you can count from them to figure out other days. And people think you're way smarter than you actually are.
So, today for Thursday 13, thirteen days that fall on the Doomsday.
1. December 26th
Or Boxing Day in other parts of the world. Which makes it easy to know what day of the week Christmas is going to fall on in any given year as well as the following January 1st, as that is exactly a week after.
2. March 0
Or the last day of February. This year that was February 28th. Next year that will be February 28th. But in a leap year it'll be February 29th. And this is the easiest way to note that.
3. March 28th
This one I remember because non-leap year February and March are the same month. Basically.
There are seven days in the week. Each month starts on one of those days. But there are twelve months. If two months start on the same day of the week (and mathematically, some have to), then I call them the "same month". That is, all the days will fall on the same day of the week. (Well, except for end of the month, as February only has the 28 days while March has 31.)
4. November 28th
Because November is the same month as March and non-leap year February. Don't believe me? Pull out a calendar.
5. October 31st
Halloween. Not the only holiday to fall on the Doomsday (see #1).
6. January 31st*
Because October and January (non-leap year) are the same month. (And both have 31 days, which makes them exactly the same month.) Feel free to check your calendar...
7. April 4th
There's a funny thing with even (non-February) months. The month/day when it's the same, is the Doomsday. As April is the fourth month (4/4)...
8. July 4th
And July and April are the same month. Every year.
9. June 6th
So, continuing from #7, this is 6/6. It's a nice thing to remember, as it gives most months one day you can remember as the Doomsday to make the calculations easier.
10. August 8th
Yup, 8/8.
11. October 10th
And that gives us 10/10.
12. December 12th
Finally, 12/12. Add seven, and the 19th is the Doomsday. Seven more gets you 26 (see #1).
13. September 12th
And finally, September and December are the same month.
Did you know these? Do you now think I know way too much about the calendar?
The other day (a couple weeks ago) I was scrolling through Netflix, looking for something to watch. I happened upon Death by Lightning. I read the description:
Presenting the story of James Garfield, who rose from obscurity to become America's 20th President and Charles Guiteau, the man who assassinated him.
...and I was in.
(My high school U.S. history teacher's favorite president was Chester A. Arthur, who became president upon the death of James Garfield, so I had a vague understanding of the times and events.)
I was surprised how much I liked it. I mean, I wasn't expecting to hate it, but the first episode (of the four total) totally sucked me in. Of what I know of the actual events, the show was factual, although I'm sure many dramatic liberties were taken to dramatize the story.
So, now I'm telling people about it, as I haven't heard too much about other people watching it. I can't be the only one who saw it. And if I am, I want to make sure you get a chance to see it too.
Enjoy the trailer:
If you subscribe to Netflix, have you seen it? Have I tempted you to take a look?
I don't feel like writing anything today. However, last week my member of Congress sent out one of his periodic newsletters, and it had an interesting link in it:
Last month, Oversight Democrats launched a public Immigration Enforcement Dashboard to document verified incidents of possible abuse and misconduct during federal immigration operations. This tool gives the American people an ongoing, transparent record of potential abuses carried out by thisAdministrationregime.
(My rep is on the Oversight Committee.) You might want to bookmark the page, just in case you have future need of it.
This is the last thing I'll be able to finish in time for Christmas:
This is random beanie's cousin. Same pattern, different colorway. Modeled by me, it will go to my brother (who is actually letting me knit him something this year).
I realized too late how busy that background looks. Sigh.
Sorry about my squint. The sun was bright.
As for eldest nephew's sweater, I did start the sleeves this past week. If I do nothing else this week... But, there's a bathroom asbestos issue ongoing, plus I have my semi-annual dental cleaning this week.
As luck would have it, the family is making the trek out to SoCal this year, so I can show eldest nephew the progress even though I won't be able to give it to him yet. That should be an okay Christmas/birthday present, right? (His birthday is the 26th.)
But that doesn't explain the post title, does it?
In Friday's post, I mentioned a kiddo ripping branches from a tree, and I made mention of other students bringing in flowers to draw in an art class. To which Alana commented, "...flowers? In December?"
Yes, flowers in December.
Pictures taken in my father's backyard on December 20th, in the afternoon:
We're due to get lots of rain this week. So, we were enjoying the sun for now. (Sorry, I don't know what kind of flowers these are.)
The beanie posts:
Friday. High school art. Seventh period.
It had been a fairly mellow day. The students had projects to finish. Most weren't, but they were chilled out on their Chromebooks. (As the following week was finals week, and final grades would be due in a week, I figured they were either done with their work or they had given up. As long as they didn't disturb the handful of kiddos who were clearly on task, I wasn't terribly concerned.)
And that is how seventh period started.
But, about 45 minutes into class (we're on a block schedule with 90-minute periods, so this was halfway through class), Ashton, a boy seated right in front of me, decided he needed to talk to the boy in front of him. He called him "BJ" but then changed that to "blowjob", informing me that was really his name.
(While the boy's name did start with a B, neither his middle initial nor his last name started with a J. Nor was his name something like Benjamin, which would have made sense being abbreviated to BJ.)
The boy ignored him, so Ashton got louder.
When I stepped in, Ashton suddenly had to do his art project. He "needed" a leaf from outside. Fine, then. Go and get a leaf.
Five minutes later, Ashton attempted to bring in a branch that was taller than him and about as wide. When I reacted as one would expect, he couldn't understand why I wouldn't allow him to bring this into class.
He left only to return with part of the branch that he had pulled off of it. Still rather large. Not the leaf that he claimed to need.
(His seat partner was with him, but he brought back a leaf and a flower and things that were more appropriately sized.)
Ashton kept getting up to go outside to get something else, and kept returning with branches. Huge ones. He put them on the desk of the girl behind him (until I told him to put his mess on his own desk) and he could not fathom why I was not pleased with what he was doing.
Did he attempt to sketch what he had brought in the classroom? Of course not.
Ashton eventually cleaned up his mess, leaving most of what he collected in the trashcan right outside the door.
And it was a mess.
Not all ended up in the trash, though.
You can't really tell from the photos, but he had left leaves and other debris all over the ground there.
The plant destruction wasn't great, but after class the teacher next door said that the tree really, really needed a trim, so this was a great excuse for him to use to complain to site maintenance.
(I took all those pictures while talking to Mr. A.)
I think Ashton thought he was funny. But on the bright side, this was a high school class. If I had had middle schoolers, I would have had bedlam. But, high schoolers? They barely reacted to all of this. (Which is probably why Ashton kept going bigger and bigger, hoping for a reaction from them.)
Wednesday. Economics, special ed. First period.
This was Mr. B's class, a class I'd done a long-term stint in two years ago when Mr. B was out recovering from surgery. So, I wasn't terribly surprised to find no written plans, only an agenda on the board along with three folders each labeled with a class period.
The agenda on the board said finals. I assumed the work in the folders were their finals. Okay, then.
Class started. I passed out the finals. I recognized about half the students as ones who had been in the special ed class I covered long term this past February/March.
They got to work.
A half hour later, the fire alarm went off. It was not until that moment that I recalled that there was a fire drill scheduled. I had seen the reminder email the previous week and promptly forgotten about it.
(Usually, the front office informs subs of drills when we check in. And usually the teacher makes mention of it in the lesson plans. Neither of which happened on this day.)
So, I announced that it was a fire drill. They needed to leave their work and evacuate.
And that's when a student, Edgar, grabbed the signage we use for fire drills and asked where the emergency backpack was. He led us to where we were supposed to line up, and he held out the green sign (for "everyone's present, no issues") once I informed him that I had accounted for all the students in the class (all seven of them).
Well, that was painless.
I hate fire drills. Besides being an interruption, usually it's a matter of corralling students and dealing with the crazy that the interruption starts. This time? None of that.
We got back to the classroom, and they went back to work. (They all managed to finish the final before the end of the period.)
If only every fire drill I have to do goes like that, I wouldn't hate them so much. Very nice.
