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Tuesday, September 27, 2011

The Camel Toe Photo Essay

I didn't get this body by eating salad so I'm not going to let years of work just go to waste.

Just kidding on the camel toe thing... I'm not allowed to post that one: "Don't put that in the blog!"

Seriously though, today is Swim Tuesday but none of us are going. Jenny is sick, and Lisa & I are buried in marking. Jenny teaches Religion and goes on nature walks all the time so her marking is pretty limited :P.

Also, I am still lazy. I don't know what to take to combat that. Sleeping it off hasn't been working.

We Try-Athletes need to get new swimming gear. 

The real rules of TriClub:
NO skirts on your bathing suit
NO bikinis (as if we would)
NO putting on your flippers and walking across the pool deck

I have rules for TriClub:
NO thinking we have improved since last year - instead, we have regressed
NO stress
NO face & eyes into naked people on the first day

MacIsland Aquatic Centre

I have rules for the pool people, too:
NO throwing down the overhead lane dividers so I get tangled up when I swim into them
NO people other than me, Lisa & Jenny swimming in our special lane with Alanna
NO getting angry if we accidently borrow a flipper, a hand chopper thing or freedom boards. We're not stealing

I have rules for Lisa & Jenny, too:
NO lack of laughter
NO lack of snacks
NO picking up dirty underwear off the floor, thinking they may belong to one of us... if it hits the floor, it stays there, ours or not... we have had too many bad experiences with trying to be nice and ending up with someone else's dirty undies on our hands.

But on the upside, I have been cooking great meals and baking breads, cakes, and cookies so I'm loving this semester.

Sunday, September 25, 2011

Crumbly Goodness

Apple Coffee Cake... recipe from Van Houtte



A slice of this with a steaming mug of coffee is a nice way to top off the evening.

Water, Baby

I grew up between a mountain and an ocean. Sometimes, I miss being near the water.

Fall 2010 - clouds in a wide open sky

Fall 2010 - looks like a painting

warm day in Fall 2010 

Fall 2011 - water like glass

2011 - crisp air & glassy water

2011 crisp Autumn day

There is a 'peaceful, easy feeling' (Eagles) when you are near the ripples...

Friday, September 23, 2011

What Dreams Are Made Of

I have night terrors.  All. The. Time.

When I say that, I don't mean I have bad dreams. I mean that I have seriously debilitating periods of sleep paralysis brought on by terrible hallucinations that are usually caused by migraines, stress, lack of sleep or an irregular diet. One causes the other and the cycle repeats itself. I've been like this my whole life. 

I try to control myself, really, I do. Routine is difficult for me, and a 'normal' sleep pattern is very difficult. I really enjoy sleeping from 5-9am and from 7-10pm. Unfortunately for me, I work during the day, so that type of sleep pattern isn't a viable option. 

This week, I had 4 consecutive Special Fun Dream Nights. Party Time!

On the weekend, my cousin and I went to the new Halloween shop here in town. It's fantastic! That prompted me to recall the haunted horror house in Vegas that I visited a couple of years ago with my friend Rose. Now, that place was INSANELY scary. It makes me sick to remember that place, and no doubt the stress of that memory brought on the first terror.

Vegas Fun Time... aka Let's Torture Terri

One day, I went to Las Vegas, only I called it Las Heatstroke because my friend nearly died on the first day from heatstroke. That's a fact. She barfed in the bathroom when we went to a Cirque de Soleil show while I was in the audience, gaily enjoying the flips and twists that those fantastic performers do in their shows. Bendy people doing stunts.

Anyway, after she nearly died, we decided to go to this scary place to check out the sights. It's part of Madame Tussaud's Wax Museum. If you have been there and you don't find it scary, good for you. I found it scary. 

Rose and I wound our way through this museum, and finally came around the corner to this place where a couple of people were peering into the face of a 'figure' and the man was exclaiming that the figure wasn't real while the other person (I can't remember if it was a man or woman - I must have blocked this out) was saying the opposite. 

Something just felt wrong to me. So I kept watching him, surreptitiously, while giving Rose the play by play details, because she either didn't care or didn't believe me. If you have ever been to Tussaud's, you will know that some of those figures are damned convincing. But this one gave me the creeps, and when those two looked away, that 'figure' moved. Oh yeah, that figure was a human figure.

And he crooked his finger at me and invited me over to the 'haunted room.'

And my stomach turned to ice and my bowels turned to water.

And while I was completely turned toward him, I turned my head and eyes away as if it was completely normal to face one direction and stare off in another. "Yeah, I always stand like I'm on a runway. What?!"

I asked Rose if she wanted to go in there and after a few minutes of working up our courage, we did so. I was so scared. If you read the Freddy Krueger post earlier in the blog, you might be interested to know that I was more scared here than I was back then.

Four of us ended up going into that room together and as soon as I stepped into the first room, I wanted to go back out. But we couldn't - you had to go through once you started. The signs outside read, "Do not touch the actors" (Oh God, moving parts!) and "If you have blood pressure problems or heart concerns, do not come in here!" (Ummm, Dear God).

So, the first scene was a Hostel type scene. Did I mention that I was first in line? And you have to hold onto each other's hips and walk through together? I had no one's hips to hold on to. Just me, trying to find our way in the dark, with things jumping out at me. Wait, not just 'things', but dressed up insane-asylum things.

I'm not a screamer, remember? Yeah, whatever, I screamed that day. I think I cried a little bit, too.

I could cry now, just thinking about it. My jaw is all strained, just trying to hold in the stress.

I don't even remember all the scenes. I just remember that there were a lot of them... there were a lot of actual people in there, 'interacting' with us. There was one point where the terror had just gotten to such a point that there was an EXIT sign and I thought, "YEAH, A DOOR!" and when I got to it, I tried desperately to find a doorknob but there was NONE. So in my mind, the only thing to do was to kick down the door - that's how afraid I was. So I leaned back, raised my right leg (apparently I am a ninja - and don't doubt me, I would have kicked the guts out of that door!) and was just about to kick when Rose turned me away from the door.

You see, Rose had grabbed my shoulders rather than my hips and I thought she was pulling me backwards to help give me a boost in kicking down the door. But alas, she was not. She was trying to help us find a way out in a legal, normal way. So she turned me back toward the insanity that was the asylum.

The last room we had to make it through reminded me of a Super Mario kind of deal, where you have to make it past the bad guy in order to save the Princess. We had to make it past a dude to get out, only rather than just pass a window, I figured he could get directly in front of us, DIRECTLY IN FRONT OF ME BECAUSE I WAS FIRST, and I was right. When I ran toward the door, with my wormtrail of people following, he dodged that way, too. So I put on the brakes and ran back. So did he.

I tried to trick him but he was cagey, and caught me. By this time, I was so out of my head with fear that I froze. It was just like my dreams but I couldn't wake up. I stopped breathing and I was literally frozen. I could not move. No breath. No walking. No talking. I couldn't move my head - I was face level with his chest and Rose was trying to push me but I was rooted to the spot. There was my wormtrail behind me, pushing me to move, and the insane dude actor ahead of me, daring me to get past him, and I was a wall of fear.

Sorry 'bout it.

And Rose said, "Terri, Go! Run!"

As if she didn't see him. Or didn't care. 

And I heard myself saying, "Don't touch the actors, don't touch the actors..."

And the insane asylum dude poked me in the chest and said, "Yeah, don't touch the actors!" while he laughed a little bit. No heart problem or blood pressure problem, just an overactive imagination and 99.9% belief in your little game, Sir.

And Rose shook me and pushed me as he stepped aside and let us go. 

It's a good thing I wasn't in there alone.

That's what my dreams are made of.

* * *

Back to the night of visiting the Halloween store:

I was asleep, and had the vivid image of this terrible, gray and green face with sharp teeth directly behind me as I slept. I knew I was sleeping on my stomach in my bed, in the dark. While fully asleep, my eyes wrenched open and I came straight up in the bed as I twisted around. I fear that one day I will actually see someone there and I will destroy my bed by using the bathroom in it when this happens.

I knew I was asleep. I knew even as I was waking that it was a dream. I knew that it was a night terror as soon as I felt my body rising out of the bed. I knew that I had to relax as soon as I saw that face in my dream and my heart started racing and my body tensed up and my legs started kicking. And even though I knew, I had to let it all happen because stopping it locks in all that fear and makes it worse - it causes the paralysis to stick with me. Laying back down to relax is torture afterward.

Night #2

I woke up in fear after dreaming that my coworker had attacked me for a piece of steak. I rarely eat meat, and certainly wouldn't fight for it. She then assaulted me with that steak. It was a rough, bloody affair and I was afraid of her after she was like a clawing, beastly cat for that steak. She was untrustworthy and vicious.

Meanwhile, that coworker is the most UNLIKELY person in the world to do that. I have since told her about it and we both have had a good giggle. She rarely eats meat, either, and neither would she fight for it. I told her she is a T-Rex to me, forever.

But I woke up, after really defending myself from her. In my dream, I was truly scared for my safety. I woke up fast, gasping for air and straight upright in bed. It is very scary to be vulnerable, upright in bed, in the dark, when you are afraid. I was then afraid for my safety in reality at that point, even though I knew things were ok. It's hard to make your mind understand that when you have night terrors.

Night #3

I dreamed I was holding someone's hand. I could see my right hand very clearly. I was holding someone's hand and I was holding it very gently but tightly.

After awhile I realized the hands were different colours - one looked like a mannequin's hand. I realized then that the hand belonged to an arm that was disembodied from the elbow. Looking down to the elbow, I could not see anything - no blood, nothing.

Looking to my left, I saw that the disembodied arm and hand were also mine, so I was therefore holding onto my own left hand very tightly. I remember my thumbs being intertwined with each other. Upon that realization, my legs kicked and I came rushing to consciousness quickly. 

When I get Scared (capital S for a reason) in a dream, I realize it and try to wake myself right away. Sometimes I can't and that increases the terror immensely. I know it's a dream but it's like the film won't stop rolling.

Once that happens, my breathing becomes laboured and my body is frozen and I really have to work at making everything slow down. After a lifetime of this, I have some skills with defusing it, but sometimes it takes time. When I finally get out of the situation, it is usually with a lot of physical and emotional stress. 

Night #4

I dreamed I was in my classroom and my students were working on projects. There were 3 students who started having reactions to something and I was struggling to get help but it felt like no one was helping. Things were rapidly going downhill and no one was noticing but me. I was so scared and sad and defeated and it was just too much to bear and after three nights of these kinds of dreams, I really had to work to get out of this one. 

It took me awhile to shake out of this dream. It was stifling. 

* * *

After those 4 Fun Nights, I am exhausted. In Newfoundland, we call this type of dream the Old Hag. The Hag brings terrors and paralysis. She visits you at night, bringing your worst fears while she sits on your chest and terrorizes you, and you are powerless to stop her. No one else can see her or feel your pain. You, and you alone, get to share her company.

I don't believe in that b!tch. I can believe it's an overactive brain, stress, lack of sleep, etc., but I do not want to believe that it is some spirit who flies around, sitting on people all night. For those who do believe... Seriously, Hag? - Get a life of your own. I hope a vampire gets you.

My grandfather used to get the Old Hag all the time. He would punch walls, tell off my nan, everything. She used to bless him all the time but he would have bad times with his memories about the war. After awhile, nan couldn't sleep in the same bed with him anymore because it wasn't safe for her. But it was ok, in my opinion, because she had been pregnant 23 times by that point. Time to slow down & take a break on the baby-making, grandparents!

Like my pop, I'm certainly fun to sleep with: grinding teeth, talking in my sleep, kicking legs and sitting bolt upright during the night while gasping for air. 

Wanna have a sleepover? It'll be a dream!

Dream Weaver 
I've just closed my eyes again 
Climbed aboard the dream weaver train 
Driver take away my worries of today 
And leave tomorrow behind 
Dream weaver 
I believe you can get me through the night 
Dream weaver 
I believe we can reach the morning light 

Fly me high through the starry skies 
Maybe to an astral plane 
Cross the highways of fantasy 
Help me to forget today's pain 
Dream weaver 
I believe you can get me through the night 
Dream weaver 
I believe we can reach the morning light 

Though the dawn may be coming soon 
There still may be some time 
Fly me away to the bright side of the moon 
And meet me on the other side 

Dream weaver 
I believe you can get me through the night 
Dream weaver 
I believe we can reach the morning light 
Dream weaver 
- REO Speedwagon

Tuesday, September 20, 2011

Just a-Swimmin'

Jenny, Lisa and I were supposed to go back to the gym tonite to start round 2 of our Try-Athleticism Jaunt. Tonite was Swim Night.

Ah, we missed it.

We didn't hear from Lisa. I fell asleep. I was pretty contrary because I was so tired. I didn't sleep well last night and this getting up early thing isn't really my cup of tea. I'm better with staying up all night and sleeping all morning. Jenny texted to say she wasn't going, either. I didn't know that until 8:30, when I woke up. 

We will improve. I'm grading us at Limited right now. That's about 20%. We had every intention of going, and we talked about it. So there was some effort but no follow-through.

I don't know if our hearts are in it this time around. We have to straighten this out.

Chicken wings, donuts and pizza > Tri-Club.

Actually, I still don't eat that many chicken wings, donuts or pizza. I eat more vegetables, fruits, tea, milk, cheese and chocolate than anything else.

During my nap this evening, I dreamed that one of my coworkers (a very unlikely one) was trying to hit me in the head with a raw steak after stealing said steak from me and laughing hysterically while doing it. I actually woke up from the strangeness of that dream. Crazy, because I don't eat steak very often, and my coworkers certainly haven't assaulted me with any. Yet.

All in all, rather than get upset about this whole situation, which maybe I should, I am not.

Instead, I will sit here, grading papers, and then writing blogs and chapter work for my own projects. I am ok with that. And eventually, I will wash the 3 bowls, 2 cups and glass that are in the sink. I also have to give Harley a bath.

Or maybe I could just take them all to the pool with me on Thursday and do everything at the same time.

Sunday, September 18, 2011

Absolutely, Positively

What do you like most about where you live?

It's easy to be negative, isn't it? I'm so guilty of that. It's so easy to get upset over things that throw off your routine, that make you late for work, or cause you to miss appointments and parties.

But when you look around, do you also see the positive attributes of your home / city?

I absolutely, positively love Autumn. The colours, the falling leaves, the temperatures, that feeling of settling in for work after a nice break... I love it all. 

Autumn, for me, feels like a new beginning, despite it being the season for 'putting everything away for the winter.'  It is the season of returning to school and that feeling of starting fresh.

School-aged children and educators all know that the year really starts in September and ends in June, and July and August are super-special bonus months, while everyone else runs on the January - December calendar year. It's kind of just the way things are for us.

Snye photo
by Teresina Benoit
So, autumn makes me happy. One of the best things about the fall is going for walks on cool days, then curling up with a good book or movie and a steaming hot cup of your favourite drink. 

In Fort McMurray, one of my favourite places is the Snye. I took this picture a couple of years ago in the fall at the Snye. Often, I go there to read or decompress, just to shake off the day's events. I used to bring Harlequin walking there before this summer.

The colours are beautiful. The river is beautiful. Sometimes, you just need to find a place that is a treat to visit, that makes you feel comfortable but is away from home. That is the Snye for me - outside, different, peaceful.

Autumn in Fort McMurray is beautiful. Absolutely, positively beautiful.

Thursday, September 15, 2011

Check, 1 2 3

Some of the names in the facebook Check In lists are pretty creative, which is why you want to come up with something good and memorable. I told my cousin that the ultimate Check In would be something no one could really top. We figured something out.

I'm leaving her my passwords for everything, so when I die, she is going to check in for me at the following places: the morgue, the cemetary and later, an undisclosed location.

C'mon! That's funny.

Today, a fellow blogger messaged me on Twitter and asked if it would be ok to add my blog to their blog roll. Essentially, if someone visits their page, they might also happen upon my blog. 

That blogger said I was funny. Well, at first I wasn't sure if this was sarcasm (it's so hard to tell tone in print, in 140 characters or less). But I took it at face value. To some, I am funny. To others, I am funny looking. It all evens out in the wash.

Humour is so subjective. I like all kinds of humour: highbrow, lowbrow, toilet, dark, whatever. If it's relatively funny, I'll laugh at it. Sometimes I laugh on the inside and forget to tell my face that I am laughing so I don't look amused but really I am delighted. I laugh so much, my 'friends' once said I looked like Harvey Kneeslapper, from Sesame Street.

My cousin and I spend some time drinking wine and chatting in her backyard. We have dubbed her backyard 'Cornwall Heights' because it is active and has lots of kids running around and lots of Newfoundlanders there. Cornwall Heights is the name of the place where our uncle and his family lived when we were young. There were always a ton of kids on his street and it was always busy. So on facebook Check In, I titled her house "Cornwall Heights, the Backyard." When we are there, I check in for all of us.

Which brought us to our little Check In business, above.

We decided to tell her daughter because she is a young teenager and doesn't like to talk about death, so we wanted to break this news gently so it doesn't come as a surprise. So I just told her - and I said that I didn't want her to get mad at her mom for it (in addition, this note means no one should get mad at her, either LOL), to which Schnort promptly replied that she would kill her mom if she did something like that, and then she would check her mom into those places right alongside me. So much for nervousness! :D

“...If you can make a girl laugh - you can make her do anything...” ~ Marilyn Monroe

Tuesday, September 13, 2011

Cage Fights

We are caged into our house.

Literally, we are caged into our house by the road construction hazard fencing that runs parallel along our street, for our safety. You see, our lovely street is getting new water lines installed which means our entire street is now about ten feet deep instead of a normal, paved roadway.

Most people on our street have alley access or access to their homes through their backyard via a park. Not us! We are one bunch of housemates in a small cluster of houses on the corner that cannot access our home while this is happening, without some intervention of some fantastic people.

Either we get a helicopter to drop us in and out of our driveway daily, or we start taking risks by walking in and out of said construction site at least twice daily.

Or we continue to walk through our neighbour's yard to the park while the construction seems to never end.

Thank God (or whatever life source to which you pray) that they are OK with that. I don't know how patient I could be dealing with walking through a muddy construction site every day, twice a day. 

As it is, driving through a construction site, traipsing through a park, finding the seemingly secret door on the fence, walking through someone's back yard, and across another person's front yard makes me feel like a Batman / Fred Penner type of person, so I don't want to add anything else to this list. When I got to my truck this morning and found it frosted over, I felt like my world was just crashing all around me after my adventure to get to my vehicle. And it was only 8am. I had to make a conscious effort to stop the dramatics and histrionics and let it all go.

When I got home at 4 after reversing all of the above, the construction worker lady met me in the driveway and asked me if I had water. My heart sunk, because over the past two months, our water and electricity have been on and off due to this construction. I told her I just got there and didn't know, and the owner of the house wasn't home yet. Then a very pushy young man with saggy pants came over and told me he could check the basement water doodad if that was ok with me. 

And you know what? For the sake of having water, yeah, buddy, have at 'er. Check the doodad. Even though you are pushy. And your pants are saggy, so you need a belt, which I really think is a safety hazard considering you are a construction worker.

So I got Harley, and we went outside. The guy who lives with us was there and we chatted about the whole situation for a bit. Then this guy who we decided to call Super Newf came over and met Harley. He said he has a dog like H, and told us a story about her. I had to concentrate on what he was saying because he had a really thick accent. I'm from Newfoundland, and I had to watch his mouth so I could make sure I understood everything, so I can only imagine how difficult it would be for someone who isn't from NL to understand him.

Then the lady worker came over and told us a story about her dog and how he needed a Thunder Shirt because he is scared of loud noises (this is a comforting shirt, apparently).

Super Newf came back and launched into a hilarious (to him) story about his "Sat'day" and "phone" and "bone" and "sad" and "best friend" and "wife" and "dog" and "snuggle" and "crawled up the bed" and "that's as far as you're gonna get!" but the story was much longer than that, and despite how those words make it seem, it was not X-rated. Plus there were a lot of head movements. Tyler caught the head action and I got the words. We pieced it together after.

The gist (I think) was that he was home on Saturday, and then came back here. The next day he phoned his wife and talked to his dog, too, who directly went and got her bone, but was sad because her best friend(i.e., Super Newf) was gone. He said the first night he got home, he and his wife went to bed (yes, we were that deep into the conversation that quickly), and the dog crawled up between them, snuggled in, as much to say, 'That's as far as you are gonna get!' I think he also said he missed them. He seemed really nice but Lord Almighty, his accent was thick. It's nice that he misses his dog. I'm sure he misses his wife, too.

So we watched the road stuff for awhile and I think we made them self-conscious because they all came over and chatted for awhile. We were just kind of amazed at actually how good they are at what they do. One guy operates the big scooper machine (I don't know what it's called but it looks like it's got a big fist / hand on the front that scoops stuff) and he is pretty brave because sometimes his machine perches precariously over cliff-like drops (at least, it seems so, to me). In addition, he picks up stuff like massive pipes and places them down exactly where they are needed, e.g., that 20' pipe needs to lay on that 4" piece of metal and across that bucket. And he just does it. And if he is off by an inch, he just taps it into place with the scoop, as if the scoop is a broom. No big deal. I can't even do that with a broom. If you don't know anything about heavy machinery, let me educate you: that guy is a big deal. He knows what he is doing and he does it well.

We asked about various worst-case-scenarios regarding the weather and hold-up time regarding getting the work finished, but it looks like the end of October before our road will be normal again. I am going to start wearing colour-blocked shirts and a black cape so that I can really be like Fred / Batman. Maybe I will sit under our front tree with my guitar, too.

Anyway, they got our water all straightened away and we came back into the house, since our curiosity was kind of satisfied. I'm trying to be patient; no fighting, no dramatics and no histrionics although I truly hate having to walk though trees and mud and grass in order to get to my vehicle before I can drive it through a construction site in order to go to work.

I also hate having to search for parking in a field since it kind of feels like I am in 1969, at Woodstock, waiting for the crowd to arrive. But who is saying anything about that? Not me. I'm being patient.

Also, I like having no electricity and no water sometimes. It makes me appreciate them all the more when I do have those luxuries. Who cares about drinking water, heat and bathing, anyway? They are overrated.

But I am not fighting. I am sitting here, caged in, not feeling claustrophobic at all, just hanging out on my couch, on my caged-in street. Where I have to run three houses down and through a back yard and through a park to get to my vehicle.

No big deal. They'll be done in 6 weeks.

Wednesday, September 7, 2011

Guarding Territory

I've always been territorial. I'm not going to lie or make excuses. I am the way I am and that's just how it is. Maybe it's because I'm an only child. Who knows; who cares?

If I'm hurting your feelings, I'm not sure what to say about that. Please read the next paragraph to see whether or not I mean you. I probably don't, if you are reading this.

Have you ever deliberately called yourself a teacher, misguiding your audience into believing that you are solely responsible for children's education in a specific classroom? I'll use my class as an example. Have you ever told one of my student's parents that you were their child's English teacher, knowing full well that you did not teach ELA at our school... knowing full well that you don't actually teach any subject at our school (or any other school)? Have you been asked by a stranger about your profession and you answer, "Oh, yeah, I teach at that school." and left it at that, allowing your audience to think that you go to school everyday and expound, like an expert, at length about Shakespeare / Math / Science / whatever to the teens of today?

If not, then I'm not talking about you. Settle down. 

If so, I am talking about you, and yes, I would say this to your face. Right to your nose.

Stop the lies. And you better hope that I never hear you say that in public because I will ask you (in front of your little audience) in detail every single thing about the B.Ed program/teaching college that you attended, child psychology, your subject matter (even if I don't know anything about it, I will ask questions until you can't answer anymore), your pedagogy, your future plans, specific details about our marking system, specific details about parent teacher interview techniques, literacy, the application of Catholicism in various subject matter, specific staff members and the various staff changes we have had over the past few years, staff meeting details...

... and I will make up sh!t that I can't even think of right now.

I will rip your story apart. You better start studying now. Because, you see, I don't mind being the b!tch. In fact, I will do it with glee.

I have worked hard to get where I am, as have many teachers and other professionals. And while some would say that teaching is not that big a deal, to me it is, because I *worked* to get here. Before I worked to get my Bachelor of Education degree, I didn't (have to) work at much else academically.

Because school came easy to me.

I read a lot, wrote a lot and enjoyed school work. I didn't learn study skills until I hit university. They were tough to learn, especially when I hadn't needed them for my entire school career up to that point.

There are a lot of things you are responsible for as a teacher. Standing at the front of a classroom and interacting with the kids is the fun part. But we also take on the legal responsibilities of having those children in the room with us, in addition to interacting with parents, colleagues and administration, not to mention the task of creatively educating said children while enhancing their self-esteem, among other things.

So when I hear someone who works in a school but doesn't teach a class / someone who doesn't know what they are talking about / someone who wants the respectability but have nothing to do with the real work / someone who wants the professional title but not have to do the university work to get there / someone who thinks it's fun times to be in a school but hates kids say, "I am a teacher," knowing they aren't one, without clarifying their position, thereby deliberately leading his/her audience to believe that he/she has done the work and holds a Bachelor of Education degree/teaching certificate, that *kind of* makes my blood boil.

Because the general public does not know the difference and they think you deserve the right to call yourself a teacher.

And you don't.

Show some respect.

While on contracts but not with the degree/certificate, I have heard people say, "I'm teaching xxxxx"... whatever, that's cool, because you are clarifying what you are doing. Teachers who hold a B.Ed./Certificate are often asked what they teach. 

Thank you for being understanding that our profession is respectable.

I realize this is a non-issue for some people. I realize we are all teachers in some way. 

My problem here is the *deliberate* lying of holding the degree/certificate. It is a complete lack of respect for those of us who entered the profession after working hard to earn it.

If you want to say you have the degree, go earn it.

If you can't earn it, because the work is hard or because money is tight, I hear you.

Some of the classes were hard, and it is expensive. Work harder. Save. If it is important to you, you will find a way. The rest of us did.

If you don't want to work harder, then it is not that important to you. And don't give the crap that it's 'too hard'... B.S.

Earn it. But shut up with the lying.

* I volunteered in a vet's office for a year. I don't run around, saying I'm a vet.

* If you need a lawyer, do you want the guy who is hanging around outside to defend you because, "Oh, well, I was inside the building a few times." ?

* If you worked hard to earn a degree, do you want people running around saying "I'm a xxxx" when people around you, your friends / family / acquaintances then say, "Well, it can't be that difficult to be a xxxx, since xxxx is doing the same thing, and she/he didn't even go to school for it!" ?

* I don't say I'm Administration. (Hmmm.... why aren't you saying that you're Admin? That's a totally different kettle of fish, now isn't it? Maybe give it a couple of years and you'll bump yourself up to that title).

No wonder people say, "Those who can, do; those who can't, teach."

We don't defend ourselves or our profession.

I've had the privilege of working with some wonderful EA's in my classes, some of whom taught things to both me and our students that were more valuable than anything ever written in a book. Never did I ever feel like I had to 'guard my territory' with them. I hope they didn't have to guard their territory with me. We co-existed, each teaching in our own realms, as teacher and EA: separate titles, similar jobs.

I've also had the privilege of working with some wonderful teachers, both as a student-teacher and as a team-teacher: separate titles, similar jobs. The same goes for this situation: if the boundaries are clear, then the situation works. I've also worked with some wonderful student-teachers: separate titles, similar jobs.

But this, "I'm an adult in a school, and I get paid, so I'm a teacher."

No, you're not.

Grow up.