Why Parents Drink

This is an amazing hilarious, and beyond awkward, email I received from my oldest sister. I normally HATE forwards, but I was really intrigued by the title, "Why Parents Drink". Sounded funny. So I read on.

After reading this, I thought, "OH MY GOSH. HOW BRILLIANT!?" I really wanted to do something similar to my family (mainly my dad or mom) after, but then I realized that my sister sent it to them too. I am plotting for something in the future. Let me know if you have any great ideas for me!

Why Parents Drink A father passing by his son's bedroom was astonished to see that his bed was nicely made and everything was picked up. Then he saw an envelope, propped up prominently on the pillow that was addressed to 'Dad.' With the worst premonition he opened the envelope with trembling hands and read the letter. Dear Dad: It is with great regret and sorrow that I'm writing you. I had to elope with my new girlfriend because I wanted to avoid a scene with Mom and you. I have been finding real passion with Stacy and she is so nice. But I knew you would not approve of her because of all her piercing, tattoos, tight motorcycle clothes and the fact that she is much older than I am. But it' s not only the passion...Dad she's pregnant. Stacy said that we will be very happy. She owns a trailer in the woods and has a stack of firewood for the whole winter. We share a dream of having many more children. Stacy has opened my eyes to the fact that marijuana doesn't really hurt anyone. We'll be growing it for ourselves and trading it with the other people that live nearby for cocaine and ecstasy. In the meantime we will pray that science will find a cure for AIDS so Stacy can get better. She deserves it. Don't worry Dad. I'm 15 and I know how to take care of myself. Someday I'm sure that we will be back to visit so that you can get to know your grandchildren. Love, Your Son John PS. Dad, none of the above is true. I'm over at Tommy's house. I Just wanted to remind you that there are worse things in life than a Report card That's in my center desk drawer. I love you. Call me when it's safe to come home

Indie Athleticism

It might not come as a big surprise to most when I say that I am sort of the “philosophical” type… slightly pensive, artistic, and introspective. Most would assume that I would rather read a book, listen to my weird, indie music, or paint a picture than anything else. Those people would also assume that because of this, I have no athletic ability. That my boyfriend jeans, band t-shirts, and thick-framed glasses would get in the way. That my Toms shoes might not let me run as fast as I would like. That I might fall (very likely) and injure my right hand, making art an impossible task. That I would cry my emo tears and write a deep, meaningful song on my acoustic guitar about my depression and sense of “lostness” in this vast, empty world.

Well… you are not 100% correct. I don’t play the guitar.

Ha, I’m kidding.

But seriously.

I actually love sports. I am actually pretty competitive and pretty decent once I get into whatever I am playing. There are of course some sports I enjoy more than others, but I will honestly never turn down the opportunity to watch a game/match on TV or in person. Even in regards to playing sports, I will play mostly anything… unless it’s basketball. I honestly really suck at basketball. However, my past might not be the best showing of my athleticism but rather support the stereotype that most have of me. And thus, another BETHISM is born.

My parents signed me up for a bunch of sports when I was younger. Following in the footsteps of my sisters, I played soccer, softball, and I was a swimmer. I legitimately think I had ADHD. I was so hyperactive, outgoing, and had a really hard time concentrating. I remember my soccer coach telling me one day before a game that he wanted me to focus more… so he made me goalie. Well, in my opinion, if a kid is hyperactive and has a hard time staying still and concentrating, you should be running them on the field as much as possible. Yeah, life would have agreed too. I was a HORRIBLE goalie. I chased butterflies just to keep moving. Same with softball… awesome pitcher and shortstop, but the minute you put me in the outfield, I drew pictures in the sand. Swimming? I think I was just too short for it… I lasted until 5^th grade with softball and 7^th grade with soccer. Oh, and don’t let me forget to tell you about the time my dad gave me too many lemon drops before a soccer game and some girl kicked the ball right at my stomach and I threw up everywhere. Truth.

Oh, and I did gymnastics… for a year… and then I accidentally peed my pants on the trampoline and was too embarrassed to go back. And no, this was not when I was a teenager.

I also a danced for 11 years. Ballet, jazz, and hip-hop mostly. This was really where I should have stayed.

Picture this: Gym class in 8^th grade. We are playing kickball. I really didn’t want to play. Not because I didn’t like kickball but more so because I didn’t like a few of my team members. Yep, super mature, I know. I went to play outfield. Well, the people on the other team really sucked and were just bunting and tripping over the huge kickball inning after inning. I was so bored and really annoyed so I basically just stopped paying attention and began to space out. I don’t know how long I spaced out for, but the next thing I knew, I just heard, “Watch out!” I looked up and all I saw falling down from the sky was that large red orb, that demon kickball. Yep, it hit me right in the face. Me? I fell to the ground… right along with that kickball.

After the mile run, a boy threw up on my shoe. How people throw up after running one mile just boggles me.

Another incident? Tennis. Okay, tennis is really the one sport I really don’t enjoy at all. I hate watching it AND playing it. But naturally, gym teachers love forcing you to play games and sports you hate doing… so, in gym we played tennis. Well, as I was walking to the court I was assigned to, I accidentally walked right in front of the machine that shoots out the tennis balls. I got hit right in the back and fell down. This seems to be a theme. Yeah, obviously 8^th grade wasn’t my best year.

Instead of quitting swimming all together, I decided to start diving when I was in 8^th grade. I remember my high school diving team experience like it was yesterday… running laps and laps around the track, doing bleacher exercises, countless lunges, and practicing dive after dive after dive until I got it perfectly. I was so beat up after pre-training that I had bruises running from my Achilles’ tendon up to my lower back from hitting the water. This wasn’t just me, but everyone on my team. My English teacher has suspicions of child abuse at my home so she referred me to the guidance counselor. Unfortunately, I had to break the news that it was not my mom or my dad but rather my diving coach and that gosh-forsaken pool. Not only did I have bruises but I dislocated 7 fingers, both of my ankles, and I cracked my head open… all from hitting the board. My “favorite” memory? Practicing 2 ½’s. Only one other girl could do this on the team and she was phenomenal. My coach was a crazy person, and whenever someone hit the water wrong, started crying, or said they didn’t want to do a dive anymore, he would, inevitably, make us do it again. So, when I did my two and a half and hit the water harder than I ever had before… on my FACE… I started crying. He walked over to me, looks straight at me and asks, “You wanna do that again?” I, in between sobs, stammer out, “y… ye… yesssss.” He just started laughing and didn’t make me do it again. Yes became my routine answer after this trick had work.

Even in intramurals throughout high school and college, my athleticism did not seem to be quite up to par. Like the time I was thrown out of my flag football game freshman year at Creighton, when someone tackled me in ultimate frisbee and pulled my pants down with them as they fell to the ground. Or the time I ran into a giant electrical box chasing after one of those fireworks that shoots out a parachute.

I love sports… but sometimes, especially during these times of proven Bethisms, it might just be better to proclaim that I am just your average, indoor, artsy type.

Nocturnal Road Trip

I am currently back in Chicago. I haven't been home since Christmas, so I thought it would be nice to return back to my stomping grounds for a weekend and just spend some time with my mom and oldest sister. Well, I am not the most rational person in the world, so the planning of this trip home was, to say the least, not that well thought out. I had two options in my head: 1) to leave right after work (at 9:30 pm) on Thursday night or 2) leave super early on Friday morning. I debated back and fourth for awhile, taking into consideration a number of things. It's about an 8-hour drive from Omaha. If I left by 10 pm once I got home from work, I would have to drive through the night and I wouldn't get in until about 6 am. However, if I got in at that time, my mom would already be at work and I could just essentially sleep until she got home, that way, when she got home, I would be ready to spend the rest of the afternoon with her. The thought of driving through the night did not sound appealing, however, so I considered the second option. If I left really early, I would be all rested up, wouldn't have to drive eight hours in the dark, and would get home at about the same time my mom would be getting home from work. Well, for some reason, I just decided to leave Thursday night after work and drive through the night... again, I am irrational in so many ways.

Here is how my trip went.

I left a little before 10 pm by the time I went back to my apartment, ate something super quick, and grabbed some last minute things before my adventure. Now, I don't know how many have actually driven to Chicago from Omaha, but the drive really sucks. Normally I don't mind it too much because it is a good time for me think about things, clear my head, pray and listen to some sermons, and bust out to whatever music I want, but even with these things taken into consideration, the drive is still awful. ESPECIALLY the two-hour trek to Des Moines. For some reason, those first two hours are just the worst. They just drag on and on and on. Once I make it to Des Moines, it normally goes by pretty fast. Well, luckily my good friend Josh called me and stayed on the phone with me for 45-minutes on my way to Des Moines, but after that, things started going downhill...

In Des Moines, I stopped at a gas station for coffee #1. After I filled my car up with gas, I walked up to the station and outside was one of the employees smoking. I thought this man was going to cough up a lung... he was just coughing SO hard and it completely grossed me out, but I walked passed him and went inside. I got my coffee, a bottle of water, and went to the register to pay. The man walked inside once he realized I was waiting and began to ring my things up. Right before I handed him my money, he looks at me and says, "I'm sorry, I think I'm going to be sick..." and low-and-behold, he grabbed a trashcan and just lost it. Yep, he threw up in front of me. There was a sink nearby and I grabbed him some papertowels and water to clean up. After I made sure he was okay, I just handed him my $5 and told him to keep the change. I left, got back into my car, and was back on the interstate ready to face the remaining 6 hours of my trip home... and then 10 miles later, I realized I left my coffee at the gas station. GOSH DANG IT. This was going to be a long trip.

Here is a series of other events that occurred on my trip out:
- I hit a bat. Yep, I hit a bat. It flew right into my windshield and freaked the heck out of me. I have only hit on animal before with my car in my entire life, so I was a little traumatized.
- I had this ongoing fear that I was either going to get in a car accident involving two creepy semi-drivers who were stalking me, that I was going to be raped by a semi driver, or fear that my front two tries would fall off my car, I would fly through the window, and then get run over by my car and then my head would get run over by a semi. I don't know what it is about semis, but I obviously have an immense fear of them and their stereotypical handlers. I blame this entire fearful situation to Josh Laughlin.
- I was nervous I was going to hit a deer. There is an insane number of deer in Iowa, so driving at night and passing by numerous scenes of "deer splatterings" on the interstate, I was nervous something like that would happen to me. Obviously I am just living in fear.
- My iPod broke. That sucked. I went old school and just listened to a crapload of CD's. It was pretty great.
- I started getting SUPER giddy at about 3 in the morning... like just laughing to myself, singing super loud, and just going nuts. Pretty glad no one was there to witness it because I probably should be really embarrassed.
- I had a pretty awesome discussion with a FedEx truck driver when I got coffee #3 in DeKalb, Illinois. We were both waiting for the new pot of coffee to finish brewing an he looks down at my feet. He notices my tattoo and asks me what the scripture was. I told him what it was and he just kept asking me questions like why I decided to get it, why I got it in that specific spot, what those verses mean to me, etc. After telling me about this, he told me, "Well, I thought I was going to get a Bible verse tattoo too. You know, John 3:16." Then he started going on and on about how that verse talks about being a light in the world. I felt bad because that isn't at all what that verse talks about, but I just listened to him talk. He was a pretty funny and goofy guy. Interesting talk with him about faith and life.

I got home at 6 am... it's funny how I left Omaha just when the sun completely went down and I arrived in Chicago right after sunrise.

Then I slept till 2 pm.

NEVER doing that again.

Beef doors, obnoxious kids, and other absurdities.

I really need to be better at blogging on a more regular basis. Dang my frugalness and refusing to pay for internet in my apartment. Anyways, here is a small collection of some of my most recent awkward moments:

SOME MORE QUOTES FROM MY MIDDLE SCHOOL STUDENTS (I just found these in one of my notebooks... I obviously did not want to forget about them):


Teryn: "Hey Miss Cavender, you wanna see my tattoo?"
Me: "You have a tattoo?"
Teryn: "Yeah, my mom paid for it." **Lifts up his sleeve and on his forearm, 'tattoo' is written in pen**... "Yep, She bought the pen."


Levi: "Miss Cavender, today, you look like an elf."
Mason: "How is that any different from any other day?"
Me: "Wow, that's rude."
Mason: "Good thing Christmas is my favorite holiday."
Levi: ".... I prefer Thanksgiving."


Camerion: "Can I have that portrait you just drew?"
Me: "No, I need it for an example when I actually start teaching my own classes. Why do you want it?"
Camerion: "What? Please? I promise I won't throw darts at it... I might draw a mustache though..."


Markerius: "I can't wait to get married."
Me: "Don't rush into anything, you have plenty of time."
Markerius: "Oh don't worry... I'm just always hungry and I need someone to make and bring me food."


A couple of unfortunate events that just happened at a recent Omaha Beef Game:


So, I was just leaning up against a wall next to the concession area eating a hot dog. My friends Alex and Ravi were in line to get more food so I just decided to stay out of the way and wait to the side. Well, literally 2 minutes after the boys get in line, some random guy comes up to me and says, "Hey, you sittin' with anyone at the game?" "Oh... ummm, yeah I am. Just waiting for them. They are in line." "Well, if you wanna escape and hang out with us (points at his homies), you are totally welcome to." "Thanks, but i'll pass." Really dude? You really thought that I attended Omaha Beef games alone? No thanks.


I have a horrible tendency to be really clumsy and fall into things. Ravi and Alex have a horrible tendency to be really obnoxious and push me around. Well, every time the Beef scored a touchdown, they would both push and shove me... it probably didn't help that I was sitting between them. Well, we decided to leave the game a little early. As we were walking through the hallway, the Beef scored again. Naturally, Ravi decided to shove me again... keeping up the tradition I guess. Well, he shoved me right into a door... as a man was walking out of it. I slammed into this opening door and the man on the other side gave me the most confused look ever. I awkwardly apologized as Rav and Al laughed at me. Thanks, great friends.



I LOVE DOWNTOWN OMAHA. MOST OF ALL, I LOVE ALL THE DIFFERENT RESTAURANTS AND PLACES TO GET TOGETHER WITH FRIENDS TO JUST CHILL. TED AND WALLY'S, A HOMEMADE ICE CREAM PARLOR, IS PARTICULARLY ONE OF MY FAVORITE PLACES. I WAS THERE WITH MY FRIENDS MOLLY AND KRISTIN, SAYING MY GOODBYES BEFORE KRISTIN MOVED AWAY. THIS IS A REAL CONVERSATION THAT OCCURED AT OUR GOODBYE SESSION:

Japanese kid (with an EXTREMELY heavy accent): "Um, excuse me, can I get picture?" (looking straight at me)
Me: "Um, no thanks."
JK: "I a student. One picture?"
Me: "Sorry, no."
JK: "But I form Japan."
Me: "Yeah, I know. No thanks."
JK and all his foreign friends: **Hysterical laughter**
Molly: "Wow... that was awesome."

DRIVING HOME FROM SOME ERRANDS, AN OLDER MAN IN AN SUV ROLLS DOWN HIS WINDOW AND STARTS WAVING AT ME TO ROLL DOWN MINE WHILE WE WERE BOTH STOPPED AT A STOP LIGHT. I JUST ASSUMED HE NEEDED DIRECTIONS... NOPE:

Me: "Can I help you with something?"
Man: "Yeah, do... you think you could show me some leg?"
Me: (Absolutely DISGUSTED look on my face) "No."
Man: "Oh c'mon, it's hot."
Me: (I begin to roll my window up and shaking my head vigorously in disapproval)

Really? The neverending question for my life: Why is it that I attract the BIGGEST creeps.

Middle School: PART II (Need I Say More?)

Here is another part to the middle school madness/awkwardness. My students are amazing hilarious... and awful.

Tyreshia: I gots to write alllll that down? DAngggggggg.

Teryn: Miss Cavender, whats your name?

Me: Miss Cavender.

Teryn: Stop playin’ lady, I meant your first name.

Me: I’ll tell you my last day here.

Teryn: … okay. You look like a Shaniqua.

Me: Wow, you are really good at guessing, Teryn.

Teryn: I know right? You is so black.

Alex: Miss Cavender, what kind of music do you listen to?

ME: I listen to mostly rock and alternative.

Alex: Wher’d you grow up? Kentucky? Hillbilly.

Me: Are you kidding me? Rock is not hillbilly.

Alex: Whatever, Billy Ray Cyrus.

Austin: You have Husky eyes.

Marvin: AHHHH HA! He just called you a doooggggg!

Tyreshia: MMMM girl, that’s cute. (She says this about basically anything any girl does in class.)

RD: Are you rich?

Me: I’m not poor.

RD: Rich people always say that. Are you Warren Buffet rich?

Austin: Miss Cavender, why is the overhead still on?

Me: Oh, I forgot that it was. I’ll turn it off after I get your bellwork graded.

Austin: Can I turn it off?

Me: No, don’t worry about it. Go do your work.

Austin: Ugh, fine. I don’t need the exercise anyways.

Me: … Was that a comment made toward me?

Austin: ….

Me: Was that a fat joke?

Alex: DUDE, you’re in a hole! HA.

Me: Hey Austin, guess who gets docked for effort points today? YOU! Congrats.

Nandi is probably one of the quietest girls I have ever met In my entire life… but after one boy kept on bothering her and other students during class, this was her outburst: SHUT UP, DONKEY!

Dejion: You don’t like me, do you Miss Cavender?

Me: Why would assume I didn’t like you?

Dejion: Your face. You never have to say anything… I just know.

Teryn: Misssss CAVENDERRRRRRR!

ME: TERYNNNNNNNN.

Jack: Wow, I can tell you’re still a kid.

Me: What? How?

Jack: You just MOCKED him. Don’t get me wrong, I liked it… and he completely deserves it. Ass.

Pharoah: Miss Cavender, can I touch your hair?

Surrayah: Have you ever seen 'bad girls club'?

Me: No.

Surrayah: You seem like you’d be on that show. ‘Specially since you were born in Cali.

Me: Why do you pick fights with everyone?

DaTrion: I don’t pick fights with everyone, you is crazy. You pick fights with everyone.

Me: You’re doing it right now.

DaTrion: Yeah, I was just doin’ that ‘cause I’d knew It would bother you.

In a conversation about some hot wing restaurant

DaTrion: It’s so hot, you can’t even explain it, it’s so hot. I mean SO hot… like you wouldn’t even know, it’s so hot.

Morgan: So… I’m guessing it’s hot.

Teryn: Have you ever had any students disrespect you, Miss Cavender?

Me: Yeah.

Teryn: Really? Who would disrespect you? Gosh danggggg, I’d punch ‘em in the face. If you want, you can hire me as your bodyguard and I’d take care of ‘em for you.

Middle School: PART I (Need I Say More?)

I just realized that I have never posted anything that highlights my time student teaching in my middle school!

Think back to middle school... the years of acne, braces, and awkwardly detailed sex ed classes. The times when a kid farted in class, everyone laughed, thus keeping them distracted for the rest of the class period. The years of raging hormones and efforts of self-discovery. Seriously though, middle school sucked. I know I was awkward... and even if you deny it, you were awkward too.

I have SO many stories to tell from my student teaching experience thus far. But, to save time, I am just going to write out some of my favorite moments, the most memorable quotes, and some little details about some of my students.

Here's the set up: I am teaching 7th, 8th, and 8th honors art at a local lower income public school. Most kids are African American. I have a lot of ESL (English as a Second Language) and ELL students. They are basically all taller than I am.

Teryn: Miss Cavender, what was your first job?

Me: I was a swim instructor and a lifeguard.

Devont'ae: Yeah, that seems fitting for you.

Me: How is that?

Devont'ae: I mean, you seem like... well, you're in shape... I mean you look like you have the figure for it... like you look good, I mean in shape... (stammering and stuttering through this)

Me: .......

Jack: Wow, Devont'ae. Tell us how you really feel.

Jack: Why are your eyes white?

Me: They aren't white.

Jack: Yeah they are.

Me: You're in art class, what color are my eyes?

Jack: ... white.

Me: ... And I have failed as your art teacher.

Me: Megan, how was visiting your twin in Minneapolis this weekend? (her and her sister were separated at birth and just got in contact.. crazy but true.)

Megan: Good! We had fun.

Me: Are you two anything alike?

Megan: Well, not really... she likes to play outside and I don't...

Me: ... oh... anything else that's different?

Megan: ... well, she likes dogs and I don't.

Me: Well, I guess I could see how that would be difficult.

Tyreshia: You's a party girl, ain't you?

Me: Why did you even bring that up? Get back to work, please.

Tyreshia: Yeah you isssss... you is craaaaaaaazy. You be on one of those party block shows. Hollaaaaa.

Brandon: Miss Cavender, what is the chance of one of your students getting your number?

Me: One in a million.

Brandon: So you're saying there's a chance?

Me: Um, absolutely not... wait, did you just quote 'Dumb and Dumber'?

Brandon: Yep.

Me: Nice.

Capria: Miss Cavender?

Me: Yes Capria?

Capria: If I tell you something, do you promise not to get mad?

Me: Um, it depends on what it is...

Capria: ... Okay, well I'll just tell you anyways... your clothes don't match.

Levi: I can blow bubbles out of my eyes... WANNA SEE?!

Me: Ew, no.

Levi: Too bad, I am showing you anyways.

Scott and RD: Miss Cavender, it's 4/20.

Here's a story about one of my favorite students named Mason. He is kind of the loner, artsy type. He listens to hardcore music and is always really good in class. He he almost a black belt in some kind of karate or martial arts. Kind of on the small side and not really one of the popular kids. I guess he had been being kind of bullied for awhile. Well, last week, he was gone Monday thru Thursday... 4 days gone is obviously due to a suspension. I later found out that I guess after school the previous Friday, that bully started to tease Mason again. Mason I guess just had enough and beat the CRAP out of this 5'11 8th grader. I am not a big fan of fighting, but to be honest with you, I am pretty gosh dang proud of Mason. I laughed for about 5 minutes straight when I found this out... and I really just want to give him a high five... but I know that would not be very professional...

Okay, more stories and quotes to come... I have TONS... it's just my battery is dying and I don't have my charger with me. Look for PART II soon.

Skirt + Wind = .....

Yep. You guessed it.

This post is pretty short due to the immense embarrassment I am trying to endure while also keeping it low key.

It has been absolutely GORGEOUS in Omaha these past few days. I am talking 80's. SO NICE. Well, I got back from school today and decided to change into a new skirt I just bought before I had to go to work. I am really lucky that I work just a few blocks from my apartment, so no matter the weather, I walk. Well, today was no exception. I was walking to work... in my new short linen skirt. Well, I obviously wasn't thinking because today was especially windy. I was trying my best to hold down my skirt as I was walking to work, but as I was crossing one of the main streets in the old market, I dropped my cell phone, and I reached to get it. Well, me reaching for my phone equaled me letting go of my skirt. Yep... skirt flew up. On one of the main streets in the Old market. Right about dinner time. In 80 degree weather. Well, I quickly pulled it down and pretended like it didn't happen.... cause really, I didn't want to draw attention to myself... or acknowledge how many people saw this event... and I am fully aware that people DID see this.

Well, about half an hour later, as I am walking around and organizing some of the clothes in the store. I get to the lingerie section, which is by one of our big windows. Three boys walk by, glance at me, look at each other, then walk back right to the window near where I was standing. They point to the underwear... and then me... and then give me a thumbs up. Creeps. I shook my head and they just smiled cooly and walked away.

I am guessing they saw this unfortunate event before work. I wanted to die.