One of the first units I always do in math is place value. If kids don't have a good foundation in place value, all operations are pretty much impossible! So this year I put a lot of work into developing some fun activities, games, and stations for students to practice place value in fun ways. I was able to use my adorable KPM Doodles clipart to make it so undeniably adorable. (I love her.)
Tuesday, July 31, 2012
Place Value Picnic *Freebie!
Thursday, July 26, 2012
First Day Jitters!
I have spent the last several weeks on the seesaw of guilt. That's what Fernie calls it. One minute I'm perfectly happy and excited about next year, and the next, I swing into the different direction. I'm guilty and terrified.
Why?
I'm leaving my school. My beloved school. I wouldn't do this for just any job. I was offered a literacy lead position, working for an excellent administrator (just about the only one I would work for, aside from the one I'm already working for!) and doing exactly what I love to do: working with struggling kids, and working with grade 3-5 teachers in reading and writing.
It's a dream job in a struggling school. I had to take it, right? I'm incredibly excited to provide training and planning support to teachers in a new campus and to learn a new position.
But I still feel guilty. These are the the things I feel guilty about:
1. I had to leave my kids. My babies were a lot of work and I had some kids who really struggled in school and hadn't had the best school experiences. I was supposed to loop up with them, but now I can't. I feel absolutely terrible about this, even though I know they are in good hands with my colleagues.
2. I have to leave my colleagues. I love these people. I've worked with them for a long time and we know each other well enough to help each other through difficult times. We are not only colleagues; we are friends outside of work as well.
3. I have to leave my administrator. I have been blessed to work for someone who trusts me to make the decisions I need to make and supports me in everything I do. Those are rare.
As you can see, all my guilt stems from being the abandon-er in this situation.
So, to help me deal with my guilt and anxiety, I decided to link up with the blog hop at Fierce in Fourth (which is what I would have been next year if I stayed at my school.) for their First Day Jitters bBog Hop.
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So Fierce in Fourth has asked us to write about three worries- three things we are jittery about. That should be easy. I may actually have to cut the list down.
1. I'm going to be out of the classroom. I've been a classroom teacher for nine years, and I love my job.
I'm nervous because I'll be occupying my time very differently and I hope I'm prepared for that. I think I'm really going to miss having kids. I'm also afraid about not having kids because I won't have a class of my own to try things out. I'm worried that I'm going to be out of practice with kids. It seems very common that people out of the classroom lose a sense of what's reasonable for kids at different levels. I hope that doesn't happen. I'm also not going to be teaching math or science anymore. I don't think I'll miss science much, but I do enjoy teaching math.
2. I'll be at a new school. I won't know anyone. I'll eat lunch all by myself. I'm certain that I'll never make any friends. I know I sound like a child now, but I don't care. lol.
3. I've never done this job before. I've worked with teachers and trained in reading and writing, but I've never been a campus lead before. That's terrifying.
So basically, I'm nuts. I know it will be all right in the long run, but anything can set off the seesaw of guilt and send me shooting up into the guilty stratosphere. Just know that I'm going to be running things by you, lovely anonymous readers, before I run them by my teachers so I can get the blog stamp of approval!
Monday, July 23, 2012
More about me?!
I don't know why. I stole the first one. It was an accident. Or actually, not, but sort of. Let me explain: I had to read this book in the 8th grade for English class. My teacher's name was Mrs. Elliot. Except everyone called her Mad Dog Elliot because she was pretty ferocious. She even called herself Mad Dog Elliot. Scary.
I read part of the book, and then I ran out of time. My mother, in her wisdom, told me to read the first paragraph of each remaining chapter. Nope. Not good advice.
I bombed the test (not like me at all) and then I kept the book because I was too ashamed to return it to her. So I still have it. Sorry, Mrs. Elliot. If it makes you feel better, I inadvertently 'donate' dozens of books to my kids' personal libraries at home when they don't return them either. Plus that copy was falling apart.
My dad, my mom, John, sis-in-law Stephanie, me, Ben, and Matt.
4. I want kids. But I'm 31. And we're not married yet.
The countdown has begun and I want some little smushy baby boos of my own. In order to accomplish this, I am doing the only thing I know how. Nagging. It sounds like this.
"Hunny, you know that after 35, you're considered a high-risk pregnancy, no matter what."
"Hunny, don't you want your own little baby bun?"
"Hunny, I love you so much. I want a little Fernie just like you."
"Hunny, I WANT A BABY NOW!"
But we have to get married first. And although I was present for a lovely proposal on the cruise ship, I was not the one being proposed to. So I'm waiting for a ring, and then for a wedding, and then I'll share pictures of my cute little mini me. Or mini Fernie. Or whatever it ends up being.
5. I get seasick, carsick, and sometimes, if my eyes move too fast, I make myself nauseous.
6. I have some weird quirk where if I see a bright light out of the corner of my right eye, I have to turn my head to see it on the other side too. Which makes me look a little like some sort of bird sometimes.
7. I'm a sucker for four-legged buddies. I've inherited all of my animals - not one of them did I go looking for. And now I have two cats and...wait for it... THREE dogs! I know! My newest little buddy is Steve, and he's a hand-me-down from my mom. Her dogs were not being nice to him, and my dogs are very nice, so he's happier here. And he's such a sweet, scruffy little guy.
I gave him a bath and I brushed him, and still he looks like a ragamuffin I found on the street. He's pretty cute.
8. I attended my A.C.T.S. retreat last year in April. It moved me and helped me share with others in a way that I never have before. It was a beautiful experience and grew my soul tremendously. On rough days, I imagine myself back in the meeting room, quiet and cool and very content. It helped me be thankful for what I have and to appreciate people in a whole new way.
I am Catholic, but the retreat is non-denominational. It includes a few Catholic components, but the retreat was attended by many people who weren't Catholic and they were accommodated. I recommend it to everyone who would like to grow their soul.
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| I met some of my closest friends at my school. |
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| Lisa and I in Atlanta at Aunt Pittypat's Porch for an IRA convention several years ago. |
So that's me. In case you wondered. Go link up yourself and overshare!
Don't forget:
Saturday, July 21, 2012
A Magical Day: Movie Review
Yesterday I joined my friends for a special, magical day. A time of bonding. Of sharing what it means to be a woman. Of drooling over Channing Tatum dressed in various inappropriate costumes.
Yes, we went to see Magic Mike.
If you're a regular reader, you may recall that I am not much of a swoon-er. I'm not big on celebrities. They're not real people. They don't know about me or care about me or make me tacos for dinner. So who cares about them?
But Channing Tatum is different. I learned this when I went to see 21 Jump Street and wrote about it here. It's a short post. All it really says is, "Wow. Channing Tatum is pretty."
So when my friends requested that we all go see Magic Mike, even though I knew it wouldn't have much of a plot and the writing couldn't possibly be superior to some of the stuff my fourth graders churn out (or watch on shows like the Suite Life of Zach and Cody), I decided it was something I should participate in. Because Channing Tatum is hot stuff.
So my girlfriends and I got together to have our minds blown by the literary masterpiece that was sure to be Magic Mike. I mean come one -there's alliteration in the title! What else could you ask for?
Lisa, Missy, Denise, and I (Chrissy - thus completing the list of very stripper-ish names) met at the theater. These girls make up about half our our book club. This book club isn't what book clubs are meant to be. The last book we 'read' was this one.
I read it. Laura read it. Judy read it.
I think that's it.
Lisa started it and then gave up, saying, "I can tell something awful is gonna happen, so I'm going to pretend that I read it."
Denise had read it before. She reread it and said, "I forgot how sad it was. Why did we choose this book?"
She's the one who chose it.
Missy my have forgotten we were reading a book at all.
So we're not exactly dealing with exacting tastes here.
We walked into the theater and found seats immediately. Lisa said, "Lots of empty spaces. Look," she gestured toward the only pair of young ladies already seated. "More Bad Girls. Like us. Here to drool over hot men."
Let's get real, here. That's the only reason to go. Slowly, the theater filled up about halfway with bad girls. Lisa began to sing, "Bad girls. Talking bout the sad girls. Toot - toot. Yeah."
I chimed in. "Beep beep!"
We were bad girls. As bad as you can be while munching on butter drenched popcorn, sitting in a public place.
The movie started. Channing Tatum ran around doing hot things. He started dancing in ways that I have never seen men dance. I leaned over to Lisa and said, "Wow. He's a really good dancer."I sat back and drooled.
Minutes later, Lisa leaned over to me and said, "Close your mouth," as she took her hand and raised my lower jaw from where it had dropped several minutes before.
Don't judge. It was pretty impressive. He's like a pretty angel dancing man with a sense of humor.
And then he put on glasses. Oh, my goodness. Glasses? Are they trying to kill me?! So now he's a pretty angel dancing man with a sense of humor and he reads? Because that's the inference I make from glasses. He reads.
At one point, I heard Missy giggle, "I just want to brush his hair."
From what I remember very foggily, Magic Mike consisted of two types of scenes.
1. Scenes where Channing Tatum retains his pants.
These seemed to include things like a beach party, a girl, and lots of money. I don't really remember a lot of these scenes. They were great, though, because they were spread throughout the movie, and provided frequent bathroom breaks.
2. Scenes where Channing Tatum removes his pants.
These included things like gyrating, thrusting, and what Matthew McConaughey called "sticking it". Fortunately, these made up most of the movie (I think) and were highly enjoyable. We giggled through them all because it's not possible to take such sexy sexiness seriously. None of us knows any men like that.
Once a scene started out as #1, and I thought maybe it had the chance to become #2, but it didn't. Boo.
In case you won't see this movie because 1. you feel guilty, 2. your hunny won't let you, or 3. you don't have bad girl friends to go with and make you feel less ashamed about it,
I will summarize it for you.
Channing Tatum is hot. Then he meets some girls who notice how hot he is. Then he goes and dances in a raincoat and then he dances out of a raincoat. When he's done, some other guys dance in and out of raincoats. After that, some boring stuff happens involving non-strippers, and then Channing Tatum dances in a hip-hop outfit. Then some non-stripping events happened and then Channing Tatum danced in an army uniform. Then he danced out of it, and after that he cried a little and then he stopped.
I could probably edit this film down to 22 minutes of awesomeness if we just took out all of the waste-of-time non-stripper stuff.
I only had one complaint. The movie ends suddenly (I thought). You still think you have another opportunity to see Channing take his clothes off or at least dance around like he might take his clothes off. But you don't. So I suggest running a ticker across the bottom of the screen during the last stripping scene. It should read, "THIS IS YOUR LAST CHANCE. HE WILL NOT DO THIS AGAIN. DON'T BLINK."
Also in the news: a super 200 follower giveaway at Carried Away in Kindergarten! Check it out for a chance to win great prizes from some super bloggers (including me!)
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Yes, we went to see Magic Mike.
If you're a regular reader, you may recall that I am not much of a swoon-er. I'm not big on celebrities. They're not real people. They don't know about me or care about me or make me tacos for dinner. So who cares about them?
But Channing Tatum is different. I learned this when I went to see 21 Jump Street and wrote about it here. It's a short post. All it really says is, "Wow. Channing Tatum is pretty."
So when my friends requested that we all go see Magic Mike, even though I knew it wouldn't have much of a plot and the writing couldn't possibly be superior to some of the stuff my fourth graders churn out (or watch on shows like the Suite Life of Zach and Cody), I decided it was something I should participate in. Because Channing Tatum is hot stuff.
So my girlfriends and I got together to have our minds blown by the literary masterpiece that was sure to be Magic Mike. I mean come one -there's alliteration in the title! What else could you ask for?
Lisa, Missy, Denise, and I (Chrissy - thus completing the list of very stripper-ish names) met at the theater. These girls make up about half our our book club. This book club isn't what book clubs are meant to be. The last book we 'read' was this one.
I think that's it.
Lisa started it and then gave up, saying, "I can tell something awful is gonna happen, so I'm going to pretend that I read it."
Denise had read it before. She reread it and said, "I forgot how sad it was. Why did we choose this book?"
She's the one who chose it.
Missy my have forgotten we were reading a book at all.
So we're not exactly dealing with exacting tastes here.
We walked into the theater and found seats immediately. Lisa said, "Lots of empty spaces. Look," she gestured toward the only pair of young ladies already seated. "More Bad Girls. Like us. Here to drool over hot men."
Let's get real, here. That's the only reason to go. Slowly, the theater filled up about halfway with bad girls. Lisa began to sing, "Bad girls. Talking bout the sad girls. Toot - toot. Yeah."
I chimed in. "Beep beep!"
We were bad girls. As bad as you can be while munching on butter drenched popcorn, sitting in a public place.
The movie started. Channing Tatum ran around doing hot things. He started dancing in ways that I have never seen men dance. I leaned over to Lisa and said, "Wow. He's a really good dancer."I sat back and drooled.
Minutes later, Lisa leaned over to me and said, "Close your mouth," as she took her hand and raised my lower jaw from where it had dropped several minutes before.
Guess which kind of scene this was.
Another great giveaway to enter is Teaching Maddeness' 500 follower giveaway! Check it out for an Amazon giftcard!
Monday, July 16, 2012
Land, ho!
We stopped in three ports. The amount of fun I had in these ports can be represents on a graph in a bit of a parabola shape, if I remember what a parabola looks like. It's a U, right?
Yes, I googled it and it is a U. Yay for my high school calculus teacher. Thank you, Mr. Allison. You were right. Calculus is useful in daily life.
This means:
Jamaica: FUN!
Cayman Islands: Ok
Cozumel: FUN!
Jamaica was a neat place. We docked in Montego Bay and it was clear it was a struggling city. I completely enjoyed myself, though. My recollections of Jamaica are probably very stereotypical of people who visit Jamaica.
We piled in the bus, after being directed by a fairly annoyed Jamaican. He waved the bus driver on as you would wave to your younger brother who was antagonizing you. "Hurry up, already," his hands said.
So we did. We scooted along the road. The driver told us, "Don't worry if we get to close. If someone gets too close to us, just say, "No problem, mon!" Some of the passengers on the bus embraced this practice. I did not. If someone got to close to us, I looked the other way and pretended we were abiding by safety regulations in the US. The rest of the bus chorused, "No problem, mon!"
We finally arrived at a gorgeous beach. I rarely use the word 'gorgeous'. I used it a lot in Jamaica. The sand was a light beige, and if you stepped into the water, you could see slightly larger pieces of sand that were clearly shells broken down. It was like watching the weathering process. The water was various colors of blue and green and your feet were completely visible at the bottom because it was completely clear. It was pretty amazing.
We established ourselves on two lounge chairs with a large umbrella and I hastily sprayed myself with spray-on sunscreen while Fernie changed in the changing rooms. Big mistake. A smart girl would have waited until her hunny came out of the room and made him lather on the tube of sunscreen she had purchased. But I didn't. Spray-spray-spray-good enough- into the water. Five hours and one absolutely terrible sunburn later, I regretted my actions.
Aside from the sunburn, everything was great.
There was a cool guy playing steel drums and they served jerk pork for lunch. They also served barbecue chicken which is was I had because I saw bristles, as in bristles from the pig or hog or whatever, on some of the jerk pork, and I do not eat foods that still have bristles on them. Or feathers, in case you wondered. They also had an array of fruits that I don't know what they were but they were super tasty.
There was another cool guy who directed all the entertainment. By this, I mean he simultaneously announced the open bar and encouraged people to visit it, explained about other fun things to do in Jamaica, and played volleyball with the teams he put together himself, while shouting "No pressure, no problem, mon!" and wearing a rasta hat.
A big piece of me couldn't really stomach this. I kept thinking about what would happen if someone came to visit El Paso. Would I have to wear a sombrero and shout, "Arriba! Arriba! Andale, andale!" so people would give me tips? I would like to believe that the Jamaica guy was a cool guy with a sincere accent (I actually believe this part is true) and a love of stereotypical phrases. But I can't help but think that I wouldn't like to spend the day shouting, "Yeehah! Everything's bigger in Texas!" and waving my dueling pistols while sporting a ten-gallon hat and boots.
The Cayman Islands were not as fun. Mostly because they were a Jamiaca repeat. And I was burned pretty badly. Not only that, I had this horrible pain where my chubby little thighs had rubbed together in Jamaica, so I couldn't wear my swimsuit. I sat on a lounge chair under a giant umbrella. I then realized I had two coupons for a free drink. Why two? Cause we each got one, and my hunny isn't much of a drinker. I immediately marched myself over to the bar and ordered a rum punch for each hand. I finished half of one walking back to my chair and drank the rest as if they were Hawaiian Punch.
Then I realized that two rum punches have a lot of rum in them. I giggled through my hamburger lunch and did unreasonable things that I thought were completely reasonable, such as balancing my head on my fork with my teeth. It was easier than holding it up myself. I am sharing his incredibly embarrassing video with you to demonstrate just how nuts I was after 2 rum punches.
After lunch, we hitched a ride on a bus going back nearish the ship and fell asleep for hours.
The last port, Cozumel, was amazing. We didn't actually spend the day in Cozumel; we took a barfy boat to the mainland. Fernie called is the SS Barfalot. And it was. No one actually did, but lots of us wanted to. I leaned my head forward against the seat in front of me and put pressure on my forehead. Finally, we arrived at the Playa del Carmen port and took a bus to Tulum. All the way there, we were informed and educated and prepared by our tour guide, Carlos, who sounded exactly like King Julian from Madagascar.
He was fond of saying things like, "You don't have to look very far." He managed to use this in a variety of situations.
"You don't have to look very far to find the ancestors of the Mayans. They're here. They're the people who live in the Yucatan."
"You don't have to look very far to see that the Yucatan is always hot."
"You don't have to look very far to find the bathroom. It's in the back of the bus."
At the end of the bus ride, King Julian explained that we would be given a small snack after our tour through the ruins. This was received with great expectation by many of the starving orphans perfectly healthy individuals on the bus.
King Julian tour guide took us on a very sweaty and drippy walk up some stairs and through lush vegetation. It was at this point that a very Mort-like child made his appearance. He peppered our walk with all the things we were thinking, but couldn't say as adults, all spoken in a delightfully squeaky voice with an Indian accent. Things like, "Will this long walk be worth it when we get there?" and "Why are we still going up stairs?" and "I am very sweaty." Me too, kid. Me too.
We finally reached the end of our march and reached a narrow tunnel. Walking through the tunnel and out into the sun, we were met by the most gorgeous ruins I've ever seen. Tulum was beautiful, and my words will be pathetic, so I'll share pictures.
The tour guide who was channeling King Julian explained to us about the history of the Mayans and Tulum, and then said we would have some time to explore ourselves. After this, we would meet him back at the bus. He would be waiting under a nice umbrella. At this point, a loud American in a purple shirt (I am so embarrassed by my people sometimes) declared in a large voice, "We're not gonna let this guy leave without that snack he promised us, are we?"
I'm sorry, sir, but are you referring to the moon pie? Really? This is what you're worried about? A moon pie? How sugar deprived are you? The cruise ship is full of tasty delights. You'll be fine.
Never fear, dear reader. On our return to the bus, we were greeted with an ice-cold towel (heaven) and an ice-cold water bottle, and an ice-cold moon pie, with a large picture of a mammoth on the front. It was called "Mamut." I can only imagine that our purple-shirted friend was satisfied.
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| See my stupid grin? I'm sloshed. |
| I know we look like we shouldn't be let out without supervision in this picture. It was really hot. |
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| We look better in this one. |
Then I saw a BOA! Not in a cage, either. It was just sitting there, curled up next to a rock wall and wrapped around a big iguana that he was crushing to death. How cool, right?! I got as close as I dared - I figured he was busy, and took some pictures. It was just too neat to pass up.
Sunday, July 15, 2012
Why I gained ten pounds
I'm not exactly sure if I gained ten pounds. I'm not going to weigh myself until I'm sure that I have lost what I gained. I don't want to give myself a heart attack when I'm the most susceptible to heart attack.
There was food everywhere. Everywhere. Breakfast was served from some hour before I woke up until 11:00. Lunch was served from 11:30 until 4:30. If you wanted a hamburger, you could get one at any hour of the day or night. Dinner was served between 6:00 and 9:30. And then there were late-night snacks, midnight buffets, and hot chocolate and popcorn available at all hours.
And I ate most of it. My hunny ate what was left.
I'm not huge on buffets for meals. But dessert buffets - that was a different story. There were constant desserts to choose from, and I'm indecisive. I walked to the front of the line and said, "One of each, please." I figured this was the best way to get the cruise experience. On the last day of the trip (the day before my birthday), I went to get my plate from the feeding trough. A woman walked by me and I glanced at her plate's contents. I excitedly explained to my hunny, "She had something round covered in chocolate with a stick in it! There's a chocolate fountain somewhere!!" Oh, yes. Holmes got nothin on me.
He gestured patiently to a sign above our heads which read "Chocolate Fountain."
Oh! "So it's true, then!" I declared triumphantly.
I covered many things in chocolate and ate them.
A few evenings, we ate in the dining hall. We had requested the "Open seating" so we could have dinner anytime in the evening. This resulted in some interesting pairings. The first night, we were seated next to a couple of very young people. They were married, but if the little woman was older then 19, she looked amazing. The only comments they shared with us were when the boy commented that he had filled the bottom half of his tea glass with sugar. We laughed. The girl said she was going to go to her room to take some 'germamine'. I'm sure she meant dramamine.
The next night, we were seated next to an Indian couple who refused to speak except to notify me that I was allowed to order two entrees if one was not enough to 'fill me up.' Gee, thanks. Clearly I require two entrees to fill myself up. Especially since his birdwife had just eaten a meal of fruit, salad, and a small plate of pasta.
So the third night, I completely expected to be seated next to a pair of mimes with frowny faces painted on. I imagined us all gesturing toward our food and toward our mouths, sharing the experience of pretending to eat.
Imagine my ridiculous expression when, as I was seated next to a young couple, I overheard the woman say, "And I was in fourth grade this year, but next year I'll be in second."
WHAT?! A teacher?! Too good to be true. My goofy face belied my inner thoughts. I could tell because her husband looked at me as you look at a child who has 'exciting news' to share. Yes? his face said. And what do you have to say?
"I taught fourth grade for eight years! Next year I'm gonna be a literacy lead and I'm totally freaking out!" Those were the words that escaped my mouth. Needless to say, because she was a teacher and used to people having ridiculous statements stumble out of their mouths without proper greetings or manners, she go over it, and we had a lovely conversation about teaching, STAAR, and state funding for districts.
The last night of the cruise, I was surprised with an engagement!
No, it was not mine. It was somebody else's.
That night, we had dinner in a fancy place.
It was called Cucina del Capitano and the staff was full of beautiful Croatian people. Every one was prettier than the last. (I took a picture of two of the pretty men dancing. It was hard, because I was drooling so much.)
We enjoyed a very large dinner of very tasty Italian food. Then my hunny got up to go to the restroom.
I was sitting by myself, staring out the window into the black water, when I suddenly realized a table near mine had excitedly begun taking pictures of a young couple seated right across from me.
"Again! Again! Do it again!" the table shouted, as the young couple kissed for the camera.
That's weird. Why are they so excited that they're kissing?
After a minute, though, (please remember my delayed reaction time with the magician and juggler) I realized the man had just proposed to the woman and the neighboring table was erupting with applause because now these people were forever shackled together. The guy had put a ring in the girl's cannoli. Unfortunately, when she was ordering dessert, she didn't want the cannoli. She wanted something else. The waitress spent several minutes praising the cannoli and explaining how, in an Italian restaurant, you gotta try the cannoli. So she did and she found a ring in it. When Fernie returned to the table, he found me, sitting alone and looking at him grouchily.
"Proposing on a cruise ship is expected, hunny. It's boring." We'll see what amazing plan he has in store for me. Hopefully it will involve a magician and a juggler. It's probably for the best. The way I was eating on that cruise, I would probably have gulped the ring down and not even noticed it.
And anyway, since it was my birthday, I got a tasty dessert (ringless cannoli, I think they're called) and the handsome waiters sang Happy Birthday. Waaaay better than a ring.
On our way back to our room, after such a romantic evening of someone else's romance, I was serenaded by children racing around to get frozen yogurt on the last night they would be able to eat all night long for 'free'. They raced past Fernie and I, and the frontrunner shouted back to the caboose to "HURRY UP"! The boy in the rear indignantly shouted back, "I'm trying to eat my FRO YO!"
Ah, youth. Pin It
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