The $425 Million Powerball is All Mine.

Don’t waste your money on buying a ticket.Winner, Winner, Chicken Dinner.

I’m winning.

Actually, the woman who I’m relegated to by marriage is winning.  All of "our" money goes in "her" account.

But don’t feel badly for me.  I have total access to "our" money.

Just as long as I don’t spend any of it.  In her defense, she doesn’t spend any of it either.

This explains the bumper sticker on her car "She Who Dies With the Most Wins!".

We decided to buy a Powerball ticket last night.  By we, I mean she said "Stop here, so "we" can buy a Powerball ticket."  I think it’s cute she includes me.

After we purchased the winning ticket (we didn’t win), the woman I’m related to by marriage and chauffeur around so she can gamble "our" money away ($20 for losing tickets) asked what "we" would do with the money when we won (again… for clarification… we are giant losers… so far).

She wants 2 vacation houses.  One on a beach.  One in the woods.

I think a lake house would be the answer, but it’s not "my" money now is it (again, we lost).

The Evil Spawn wants iEverything.  And $1,000,000 in Fun Money.

Seems excessive, but then again I’ve never had $425 million (and never will… even if "we" win) so who am I to judge.

If she is going to be spoiled, might as well go big.

Me, I want nothing.  But a nap.

My concern is if (when) "we" win, how much am I going to have to spend on security?

I have zero interest in getting kidnapped by members of the Mexican Drug Cartel.  I’m not sure why I’m afraid of them, but it just seems like the logical thing to be frightened by.

Actually, "we" decided after the vacation homes and iJunk to take the rest of the money and spend the rest of our lives (length will depend on Cartel) giving it away.

Our foundation will be called "Buddy’s Gift" after Buddy the Dog – the Patriarch of Our Family.

So don’t bother buying a Powerball ticket this week because "we" are winning.

And "we" have big plans to give away the money.

Actually, go ahead and buy a ticket.

It will just make "our" winning amount that much larger.

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This Will Make Every Teacher Very Happy.

Last week I had a good day because I only worked half of it.Lotterys Are Fun.

At lunch time, I snuck out (and before you tell on me… I filled out the proper paperwork).

I have to sneak out.  If not 197 people stop me.

This is bad.

The good thing is each one of them only "needs a second".

Superintendent Math:  197 people x 1 second = 17 hours and 19 minutes.

So, I was very happy to get out of the building without being stopped.

I spent a beautiful fall day working with a dog like a dog in the yard.  I’m not sure what Buddy does when I’m at school, but I know what he does when I’m home.

He lays in the exact spot where I need to work.

It’s creepy.  Wherever I turn, there he is.


And snoring.

Note to dog who lives in my house and eats my food:  It’s a big yard.  Go sleep in a flowerbed I’m not weeding.

While I was working, I had an endless stream of ingenious ideas.

Most of which I forgot within two minutes.

The one I remember is golden.

Everyone loves a day off.

Everyone looks forward to it.

How about each school employee gets one Lottery Day Off every five years.

Here is how it works.

Each Friday the school hires an extra sub.

Before first period, the entire staff gathers in the gym for a drawing.

After a drum roll and lots of anticipation, one employee is pulled from a fancy machine filled with ping pong balls.

When your name is pulled, you get to go home.

No questions asked.

Just a bonus day off.

Teachers, administrators, janitors, cooks, secretaries… everybody is eligible.

A day off is great.  An unexpected day off is better.

Everyone would look forward to Fridays, just because of the excitement of not having to stay.  Actually, everyone looks forward to Fridays already, but that’s not important.

I don’t see a downside to this idea. 

Other than the cost of a sub and the bitterness of those who don’t win. 

Now, I just need to find a fancy lottery machine with ping pong balls and a large group of people who want to go home.

One is going to be a lot easier to find than the other…I will let you decide which is which.

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Medal of Participation.

Softball season is over.

It’s another milestone in my daughter’s life.

Even the Kids Who Can't Make the Final Game Get a Medal.

Each sport she plays seems to come and go so quickly (except soccer… which drags on… and then drags on some more).

I’ve said it before, time (and her childhood) are moving by at a breakneck pace.

And yet, I don’t seem to age.

Maybe it’s good genes.  Maybe it’s dementia.

When her last game ended, she was presented with the traditional Medal of Participation.

If you play… good or bad… you get a generic softball necklace (see picture).

This keepsake will undoubtedly get shoved into her bedroom drawer of abyss.  This means it will never be seen again (until we kick her out of the house and reclaim her room as our new office).

The medals are nice, but they seem so temporary (it’s possible many were lost on the trip home).

This isn’t how my generation was raised.

When I was a kid (the 80’s… or the golden years as I like to call them), winners were given trophies and everyone else got nothing (and they liked it).

Now we have to make sure everyone feels good about themselves.

Wins and losses take a backseat to feelings and self-esteem.

This has always seemed odd to me.  Life used to be simpler.  Twenty years ago you could easily identify who won the game.

Now everyone is treated the same.

Call me crazy, but there was something to be said for one team parading a gigantic trophy (usually plastic) around the field while the 2nd place team stood off to the side and cried their eyes out.

It was simple and straightforward.

If you wanted a trophy, you had to practice.  And work.

Then practice some more.

It was what made America great.

The people who worked the hardest got the biggest rewards.

But things are different now.

I’ve always felt it was wrong to reward kids simply for participating.

I don’t do this often, so pay attention.

I may be changing my mind.


Yesterday, I saw one of my daughter’s teammates at the grocery store (a full 48 hours after their last game and the awarding of the Medals of Participation).

Much to my surprise she was wearing her medal.

And she was very proud of herself.

Really proud.

Not because she was the best player or the team who won the championship (sadly, she wasn’t and they didn’t), but because she played.

She participated.

And she has the medal to prove it.

So maybe… just maybe… I’ve been wrong.  Maybe participating is more important than winning.


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What About the Great Kid?

During our regular corporate meetings involving all things, the staff decided I should blog about That Kid and the Great Kid (meetings, staff, planning, and coherent thoughts don’t really exist).

I first blogged about That Kid.

That Kid is easy.No That's a Smart Kid.

Everyone has a That Kid in class, their school, or as we are finding out… in their familes.

We’ve been notified That Kid turns out pretty well as he (yes, he) grows older and is given time to mature (remember… some take longer than others).

We’ve also been notified he can turn up in prison.

This reinforces my theory.  Everything, and I mean everything, is 50/50.

Examples are:  Will you wake up tomorrow morning.  50/50.

Will I win the lottery?  50/50.

Will more than ten people leave a comment on this particular entry?  50/50.

Will this blog make me rich.  Okay, bad example (there is exactly 0% chance of that happening).

Everything else in life is truly 50/50.  It either will happen or it won’t.

That Kid has the same chance of being successful (or not) as any other student.  It just takes time to find out.

There is an exemption to this rule.

Great Kids in 2nd grade have a better than 50% chance of still being great when they are adults (I have no proof of this, but my blog/my theory).

Every teacher has a That Kid.

They also have at least one Great Kid.  Most have more than one Great Kid.

If you think about it, there are probably at least 5 in each classroom (or with our soon to be the standard larger class sizes… 12 per room).

These are the students who are polite, hard-working, helpful, and happy.

They really are the majority of your students.

You know immediately when you meet them they will be successful in life (they have the parents that say it’s okay to beat them if they cough without raising their hand).

These students will grow up and be doctors, teachers, accountants, carpenters, or maybe engineers.

Actually, it doesn’t matter what they end up doing, it only matters that they will be good at it.

And they will be good.  Really good.

They will also pay their taxes and mow their lawns (very important to a stable society).

This doesn’t mean they’re perfect and won’t have bumps in the road, because they will.

They will just correct their mistakes and not make excuses.

That’s why you trust them to hand out papers, take notes to the office, and help the sub when you are gone.

They are the ones who will tell you what That Kid did when you weren’t watching.

This story often involves the random animal-like noises That Kid makes.

Or the throwing of some sort of object.  Oh, and don’t forget the always popular inappropriate gestures (usually during some sort of program where all the parents are in attendance).

As we head towards the end of the school year, as difficult as it is with our patience waning, we should all try to focus on the Great Kids.

Because there are far more Great Kids than there are That Kid.

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Guess Who Just Won the Dog Lottery?

Our family has expanded by one. dscn2518

Buddy the Dog is now living in our house. Or I am now living in Buddy’s house. I can’t decide which one is true (that is a lie… I know exactly which one it is).

It is now Buddy’s house. For the next 15 years, I am living under his roof by his rules.

Don’t worry, I am flexible and will adjust.

I will just do what Bud wants and try to keep my nose clean.

Meanwhile he seems to be adjusting to his new home.

He worked in a good hour nap in the truck on the way home. It took him about 8 seconds before he settled in for a long snooze.

We did wake him up long enough to go in the pet store. Turns out he is a chick magnet. Girls came from all over to slobber on him. Or vice versa.

When we got home he felt comfortable enough to go downstairs (when I carried him) and enjoy some Nickelodeon on our big screen TV. Turns out the Mancave is
now Bud’s Room. img_1356

It has now been almost 24 hours of listening to my daughter giggle at his every move.

I have a feeling this is what it will be like when she first starts dating. Lots of fawning, waiting on him hand and foot, laughing all the time, letting him watch my TV, thinking he can do no wrong… not sure I am looking forward to any of this.

Well I have at least 8 years to dread that.

Presently, I have other troubles.

Buddy the Dog has won the lottery. He has left the show ring for the life of luxury. Doesn’t seem to miss the kennel in the least.

He has won and I have the feeling I may have lost.

I feel like I need to win a lottery to pay for all of his toys, crates, collars, leashes, food, treats, and beds.

The pecking order has changed.

I am not sure where I rank, but I am pretty sure it’s not first.

Welcome home Buddy. If you need anything, just let me know (he is still struggling with changing the channels by himself).

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While this site operates with the knowledge and awareness of the Tuscola CUSD #301 School Board, Tuscola, Illinois, the content and opinions posted here may or may not represent their views personally or collectively, nor does it attempt to represent the official viewpoint of Tuscola CUSD #301 administrators or employees.