My students need 1 Flight and Rocketry kit to make rockets and other flying objects. A typical day in our classroom is often anything but typical. We perform experiments in an effort to understand the world around us, write scathing opinion pieces and hilarious stories, explore…
I don’t usually forward these things, but my brother is a second-year teacher in rural Nevada and could really use your help.
My brother’s doing a donorschoose, raising money to buy a rocket (and other STEM activities) module for his fifth grade students.
Any donations made in the next five days will be matched by an anonymous donor. All you have to do is include the code INSPIRE when you donate.
If you can’t donate, no big deal! Feel free to reblog and spread the word, if you feel so inclined. He has $355 to go, but if the donations are matched, he really only needs about $180. We’re very excited that he’s pursuing this, and very proud of him in his teaching career.
Thank you for your time in reading this! Please feel free to contact me with any questions you might have. I hope you’re having a lovely day.
some people’s voices are just very appealing. you can’t explain it. there is no way to describe it. it’s just like. how. why. why does your voice do things to me. why does it make me feel things. why. how. why
OH OH OH PLEASE TELL US A BOARDING SCHOOL STORY PRETTY PLEASE
so my school had this thing called “senior skip day,” except that senior skip day didn’t exist and every year the administration sent out emails in the spring that were like DON’T FUCKIN SKIP CLASS OR YOU WILL RECEIVE RESTRICTION (restriction was like, my boarding school’s equivalent of detention where instead of staying after school you had to go to bed early and help stuff envelopes advertising the summer program until your hands were BLOODIED AND CRIPPLED BY CARPAL TUNNEL) and every year the seniors were like YOLO THEY CAN’T PUNISH ALL OF US!!!!!
spoiler alert: yes they can? THEY ALWAYS CAN.
200 years of american high school and teenagers still think that there is a cap limit on kids in detention and that you can leave after 15 minutes if the teacher doesn’t show up.
anyway, my senior year, we all got together and nattered at each other until some brave soldier (i feel like it was my friend paula but WHO KNOWS) was like “OK SENIOR SKIP DAY IS THIS THURSDAY!!!! NOBODY GO TO CLASS OR UR A SCAB.”
she didn’t say scab because she’s not from the 1920s and we aren’t newsies, though this story would be way more interesting if we were
what she said was “YOLO THEY CAN’T PUNISH ALL OF US!!!!!”
except not yolo because it was 2009 and drake hadn’t been invented yet except as a dear sweet boy in a wheelchair.
we also used this email system to communicate with one another that has very deeply informed the way i understand email and which probably makes it very frustrating to be my friend and receive emails that have subject lines like “URGENT” and then just 42 links to the same florida georgia line youtube video.
I’M NOT ASHAMED, but in that way where like i kind of AM ashamed so i’m really aggressively NOT ashamed?
so the day of reckoning rolls around and my alarm goes off at 8 (class started at 8:05 but i liked to PLAY WITH FIRE when it came to being late; my mom actually asked the school to stop emailing her when i was a sophomore because i was late so often that their rote “Mrs. Ofgeography we are emailing you to say—” was CLOGGING UP HER INBOX and she was like “i GET IT MY CHILD IS THE MOST BORING MISCREANT OF ALL TIME.”) and i looked at my roommate elle and she looked at me and went, “you going?”
"hell no," i said. "YOLO. they can’t punish all of us."
elle, who was far prettier and far cooler than i was with the notable exception of her obsession with tswift’s “love story” and her tendency to look at the endangered species list and cry sometimes during study hall, quickly bizounced across the street to this shopping center thing where all the cool kids smoked in secret where huge trucks dropped off clothes for the Dress Barn. i think there were also tennis courts nearby. more importantly there was this chinese food delivery place and a lil restaurant that made HELLA BAGELS.
WHAT KIND OF BAGELS?
off goes elle! meanwhile i’m like, “yessssss i’m gonna use senior skip day to watch 14 hours of tv shows and eat frozen peanut butter bars that i stole from the dining hall! I’M GONNA LIVE LIKE I’M 23 ALONE IN CHICAGO ON A WEEKEND WHEN MY ONLY PLAN IS TAKEOUT AND CUDDLING WITH THE FAUX-SNOW-LEOPARD BLANKET I WILL ONE DAY SURELY OWN.”
of course, during this time the administration was continuing to send out emails that reminded us with increasing urgency that senior skip day was NOT A THING and that we were ALL GETTING RESTRICTION if we didn’t get our STUPID ASSES TO CLASS, GODDAMNIT, WE ARE NOT RUNNING A CIRCUS HERE.
but i was like! yolo, motherfuckers!!! i already got into college, YOU CAN’T TOUCH ME.
at some point during the day elle and our friend ginna came back to the room with takeout from the chinese delivery place and we sat on our floor eating it and probably watching veronica mars or looking at the endangered species list and crying.
all of a sudden, elle said, “guys shut up, guys shut up, GUYS SHUT UP,” and ginna and i were like, “WHAT we have a LOT to SAY about FRIED FUCKING DUMPLINGS, ELLE," and elle said, "did you hear that?"
'that' was the sound of one of our dorm moms, mrs. f, knocking on doors and saying things like, “IF YOU DON'T GET YOUR BUTTS TO CLASS IN 5 MINUTES YOU'RE ON CATEGORY 4 RESTRICTION FOREVER.” elle quickly scampered up our raised beds to hide in the corner, where a tiny human like elle could actually hide from view; i leapt immediately into what we called a closet but was basically a cubby with a flap that was DEFINITELY not meant for a 5'8” individual with knobby as hell knees.
our door, which was never locked because we both hated the effort of typing in the lock code, opened. mrs. f said, “mollyhall?”
i held my breath.
i should add here that i seemed to be operating on like a scooby-doo level of logic where basically i thought that she was somehow NOT ALLOWED to investigate?
like, if she can’t see me, there is NO POSSIBLE WAY that she could prove i’m in here, right?
she’ll just poke her head in and be like oH GOSH NO KIDS HERE and leave!!
you can see the flaw in my logic.
mrs. f sighed. “mollyhall, i know you’re in here, i literally heard your voice ten seconds ago.”
there’s no WAY she guesses i’m in the closet!!!
"mollyhall, i know you’re in the closet."
NO YOU DON’T
I AM SCHRÖDINGER’S SENIOR
there was a creak. mrs. f stopped. it wasn’t actually a “creak,” so much as this like, prolonged groan? like it’s the sound an elephant would make if it sat on a really large accordion.
i poked my head out of the closet. mrs. f looked at me. elle sat up.
i said, “where’s ginna?”
YOU KNOW WHERE GINNA WAS.
"um," said elle, "she’s in the—"
i really wish i could describe the sound the ceiling made when it collapsed. it sounded a lot like the way losing your breath feels. i sort of remember ginna falling in like, really slow motion, like i could see the expression on her face. i didn’t really think about how i would describe this in words. ginna’s face said:
what have i done?
this was a mistake.
i regret a series of decisions that i have made.
is there a way out of this?
are those oreos under mollyhall’s pillow?
why are there oreos under mollyhall’s pillow?
mollyhall, you HAVE a food cupboard, what good is a food cupboard if you don’t—
she belly flopped onto the floor. i mean, the girl bounced. and then she just laid there. mrs. f looked at her. elle looked at her. i looked at her, still mostly in the closet. we were all going to get category 4 restriction forever.
ginna said, “hi, mrs. f. i feel like i should explain.”
Rating: Explicit Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Allison Argent/Scott McCall, Vernon Boyd/Erica Reyes Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Werewolves Are Known, Wolf Derek Hale, magic!Stiles Stilinski, names have power, Slow Build Summary:
There’s something weird about Beacon Hills that Stiles can’t quite put his finger on. The way everyone in town knows his name the day he arrives. The way they insist the melancholic howling that echoes through the forest every night is just a dog. The way his dad denies getting a dog, even though Stiles comes home to find one sprawled across his bed, some big black thing whose eyes gleam red in the right light. The way that massive oak tree out in the woods vibrates under his touch, pulsing with sickly life.
There’s something weird going on in this town, and Stiles is determined to get to the bottom of it.
In which literally the whole town knows something Stiles doesn’t, and it freaks him out that they all keep smiling at him and this gigantic dog that his dad definitely doesn’t have. And somehow learning that Magic is Real doesn’t make anything clearer.
You should definitely go read this if you haven’t yet.
COSIGNED this story is totally great everyone in the world should read it and then we can all get together to talk about the feelings it gave us. In addition to all my favorite tropes (magical Stiles! Actual wolf Derek Hale! Mysteries! Shenanigans!), it’s also got a really fun Eureka sort of vibe to it. READ IT NOWWWW.
“I don’t know why people teach kids about ‘pimples’ and ‘hormones’ and ‘armpit hair’, and refrain from telling them that if they don’t achieve their billion-dollar dreams at the age of twenty-one, there will still be much more to life. And that when you fail at your first job, it isn’t going to be the end of the world. And eventually you will realize that each person’s world is different and your only job is to figure out what your best world can be.”—
and you once said i wish you dead you sinner, i’ll never be more than a wolf at your door for dinner, and if i see you ‘round like a ghost in my town, you liar, i’ll leave with your head oh i’ll leave you for dead, sire.
i almost got arrested when i was 7 because i was putting that fake snow stuff in plastic sandwich baggies and giving them to all my friends and more and more kids would come to me asking for snow and one of the kid’s parents found it and they thought it was cocaine so they called the police on us and they literally thought that a 7 year old girl had created an underground drug distributing system
wow sounds like that really snowballed out of control for you
WALKING TO THE FOREST TO DIE everything from harry waking up in dumbledore’s office to voldemort killing him is just exquisite — harry’s realisation that dumbledore had been grooming him for death and harry being hyperaware of his own body, “brain and nerve and bounding heart” is all so gorgeous and sad and wonderful, and he’s so brave. HE’S SO BRAVE. I’M SO FUCKING SAD IT’S BEEN 7 YEARS
destroying dumbledore’s office i love this scene because after 4 books of harry keeping shit to himself and sitting on his feelings you get lots of minor, small explosions post-cedric dying and then THIS, it’s a NUCLEAR BOMB OF ANGER and it’s so satisfying to read but also the most painful thing in the world, ever
politely asking the sphinx to move, please this cracks me up every time. if someone was like show me ONE THING that DEFINES harry james potter AS A HUMAN AND A CHARACTER i would show them this scene. life-threatening wizard competition. dangerous magical creature. “can you move, please?” my son
torturing amycus after he spit on mcgonagall this means A Lot to me because harry just straight up crucios that fucker without any hesitation or warm-up and puts so much feeling behind it. anything where harry is morally grey is my favourite because he’s The Saviour and the Master of Death and it’s like yeah, and he just crucio’d a dude so hard he flew across the room and passed out
"you don’t have to call me ‘sir’, professor" any scene where harry backchats snape is fantastic but i distinctly remember reading this scene and being like OOOHHHH OOOOOHHHH SICK BUUURRNNNN OOOOOOHHHHHHHHHH