Haven't thought of that quote in years. One of the plays we did in high school required my friend Tree to say this. She said it with such zeal. And while considering a title, it popped into my head.
Rather fitting, because lately, I've been confronted with things long gone.
First, I have set my DVR to record all of these amazing new episodes of Pop Up Video. Holy cow. I loved half days in high school, because I'd come home, fix a PB&J sandwich or biscuit pizzas or a Lean Cuisine, plop down in my dad's blue recliner, pull up a nesting table, and watch. Also, sometimes, because I got out of school at 2:20, I'd catch it when I got home.
In college, my roommate Lisa and I would race back to the dorm from the cafeteria in order to watch it. Sometimes, we cut it close. Always, it was a bad idea to do so. However, it was always worth it.
When I met Mark, I quickly learned that his musical trivia knowledge knows no bounds. He would always get so mad because he would tell me facts, and I would frequently respond with, "Yeah, I saw that on Pop Up Video once." He hates the show because it allows people to know obscure music trivia that generally only he knows. When it went away, he was happy. He's not so glad to have it back.
In my journalism class, one of my seniors is going to do a new feature called "That '90s Column." In it, he is going to pick apart '90s culture. I guess that the '90s for him are the '80s for me. He did an article on older generations' opinion of Gen-Y. I was his Gen X-er source. First, older generation? Mannnnn. But seriously, he is apparently a fan of everything I find amusing. He wanted to know what some of my earliest memories are and what things I liked. Most of it didn't make it into the article, but it was still fun to talk about. I guess I gave him too much information, haha.
He interviewed me about "Ren and Stimpy" the other day. Another kid did an article on the return of "Beavis and Butt-Head." I then watched that last night with Kurt, Alicia, and Joe. Kurt and I were way into it. Joe watched some through his bottle. Alicia tolerated us fools. Mark didn't get to watch it, but I DVRed it, and we're going to watch it when he gets home.
Both returning TV shows are just as good as they were back then, and have lost none of their appeal. Makes me so happy.
Last week, I once again brought my seniors to my collegiate alma mater. We had a journalism workshop, toured the campus, saw the Dyslexia Center, and visited Student Publications and Printing. Met up with Mark's cousins, Drew and Alison, and my brother-in-law from another mother-in-law, Clyde. He looks like Jones on "Reno 911." I look decidedly nothing like that. For fun, I introduced him as my brother-in-law. The kids' faces were priceless.
It was so much fun going back and showing them every part of the campus I loved so much. Thankfully, I worked so much and spent so many hours in the theater, so there weren't too many stories I had to censor myself on. I guess playing it so safe in college was a bit of a waste, but it was also a good thing. Several of my seniors are interested in going there next year, as opposed to the group I brought last year, so they were very interested in everything I showed them and everything I told them.
Two things that you would have died over.
One. My adviser, who is kind of an ass, but also one of the greatest teachers ever, Dr. C, was handing out some papers. M made a comment about how freezing it was in there, and Dr. C said that it had to be that cold because of all of the equipment in the room. He then added, "So, this is the Iceland of classrooms." He hands B a paper, and B goes, "You mean Greenland. Iceland isn't the one covered in snow. That's Greenland." Dr. C looks at him and goes, "O.....kayyyyy...." and all of us lost it.
Two. My b-i-l Phil's BFF Clyde works for the sports information office. He's a big goofy light-skinned black guy. I used a picture from Phil's wedding as one of my FB profile pictures. It has my m-i-l, s-i-l, b-i-l, f-i-l, Mark, Clyde, and his gf. I introduced him to the kids as being my bil. Their faces were priceless. Clyde explained to them what I meant.
The other teacher, also an alum, who came with us had C and D. C wanted info on remedial courses and math and stuff, so Mr. W brought her to a math dept friend of his. He brought D to visit the basketball team.
They came in after this while Clyde was talking with the kids. Clyde asked if they had any questions, and D goes, "Yeah, I got one. Who are you?" I said, "He is my brother-in-law." Well, the reaction was as awesome as you could expect. The kids played along. I pulled up the profile pic. Now, the gf, Stephanie, is white, so I guess he thinks Clyde married either my sister or Mark's hahahha, because he said, "Ohhhhhhhhh. I see."
So we let him think whatever it is he thinks. In following days, several kids asked me to ask my brother-in-law some stuff about athletics and the school. Heehee.
On the way home, a different female C was behind me and she leaned forward and said, "I never knew people could have black in-laws." This from a white girl dating a black guy. What happened that some level of disconnect exists?? At least Clyde brought some multiculturalism to her life.
Then, on Saturday, we drove to the M.C. to take a photo of three generations of alumni with Mark's family. His grandpa, aunt, uncle, mom, two cousins, brother, sister-in-law, and the two of us all graduated from there, and his two youngest cousins are there now, as I mentioned earlier. Stephanie is actually writing an article for the university about the family's three generations of grads. She and a university photographer took the photo.
After that, we had to go back to Thibodaux to pick up some costumes from my friend Wade, who is also a drama teacher. He did "The Wizard of Oz" a year or so ago, and that's what I'm doing this year. He offered to lend us his costumes, and we detoured to get them. Then, we went to Houma and ate at Outback with Mark's parents and made a detour to the mall for a minute. When we were in college, that was one of the few restaurants there. Good times.
On Saturday, I heard from Wade again, but it was not for good news. Marie, a girl I'd hired based on the fact that, as a freshman, she reminded me of me as a freshman, died. She climbed the ranks and eventually edited the paper. She worked in the same school system I work in, and we would run into each other at workshops and things. We kept in touch via Facebook, but were not close any more. She was an amazing person, and I am very sad about this. She was only 29. Everyone began posting photos from Student Publications. I did, too. It was fun looking through my photos and reminiscing. And it's been fun to see people comment on the pictures, too.
In addition to this revisiting my past stuff, I have listened predominantly to the Gen-X radio stations we have now. Fantastic stuff.
Tomorrow (today?) We are attending a college radio reunion for Mark. It just keeps going!
But then, there's so much progression. It's my 7th year of teaching. I took the GRE last week and have applied for grad school to get a master's in journalism education. I spent the evening with new mommy Alicia.
In fact, babies are stealing my friends, haha. There's lingo I don't speak, there's trick-or-treating plans, there's no one to do things with after work, events end earlier, one moved back to California...glad I have other friends who are childless by choice out there. Otherwise, the world would be so lonely.
Things are changing. When did we get old?
Showing posts with label school. Show all posts
Showing posts with label school. Show all posts
Friday, October 28, 2011
Thursday, June 23, 2011
Back into it
I've had several people tell me that I need to get back into this. I had neglected things a bit, but the school year tends to be a little difficult for free time. And once we hit spring, I have my bowling team, and then I go back to camp every few days to prepare for the upcoming summer. My available hours are slim.
Don't let my Facebook presence throw you, though. I keep the browser window open and the FB tab on top, so I see notifications. And I get all ADD and start looking at whatever went up there while I'm working on other things.
Anyway, I hate that all of my posts over the past year or so have been "let me catch you up" posts, but, well, sometimes, that's just how it is.
And, unfortunately, I guess that's what this one will be.
Last regular post I'd had was about my little Nala cat. I think I just couldn't write again for a while after that.
The biggest thing to change in my life was a life-saving moment. My quality of life dropped significantly last year. It started getting worse towards the end of the summer and into the beginning of the school year. I would come home, fight to stay awake, fall asleep on the couch, have Mark wake me up, eat, fall back asleep, have Mark wake me up, shower, go to sleep, go to work, drag all day, go home... and repeat.
It was scary, but I'd also lost my will to care about it. I was shedding like crazy, couldn't stay awake, quick to fly off the handle, and constantly dealing with broken nails. As much as I hate the phrase, Mark tried a "come to Jesus" moment. My annual exam was approaching, and he made me promise to talk to my doctor about it. My mom's theory was that I was having thyroid troubles. That WOULD explain the weight gain I've had over the past few years. I just chalked that up to Katrina, but maybe there was more to it.
Sure enough, I was suffering from hypothyroidism. My levels were dangerously low. A few weeks of trying different dosages, and my quality of life started to improve. I was also given something for the PTSD I've been dealing with the past few years, and that did it, too. I lost about 10 pounds almost immediately, all without changing any dietary or exercise regimens.
What do you know. I wasn't crazy. I was just in physical trouble.
The school year was a very good one. I got to repeat my classes from the year before. This is the first time in 6 years that I've been able to reuse my class materials. What a wonderful, wonderful thing. Of course, adjustments needed to be made here and there, but wow. Just reducing that level of stress was amazing.
I remember being in school, probably middle school, and thinking about how my poor teachers had to teach the same things, year after year after year. Little did I know that one day I would long for that luxury. It's pretty neat knowing what I have coming up for first quarter. I like that I can improve upon what I did the year before. It's funny how your perspective changes as you age.
I still do not see much of Mark. He works nights, I work days, and we frequently worked Sundays, and he sometimes worked Saturdays. It's hard. But we try to find things to do, be it drive around or watch a movie we DVRed two weeks prior.
We do have one project we've tried working on together, though. My father told us that he would help us remodel the front of our house. We hit a huge snafu, though. Well, many of them.
We tore down the paneling in the den. Bit by bit, we worked a little on the weekends. We got some of the sheetrock up, but the holidays started getting in the way. The weekend before my dad's birthday, Mark went to work for 5 a.m. Shortly after 5 a.m., the phone rang. It was my mom. My father had a heart attack, and they were in the hospital. I showered, ran out into the cold early Saturday morning with a soaking wet head, and somehow safely made it to the hospital. While they were working on him, my mom broke the news to me that she was having a lumpectomy that week, and she was only telling me because now I would have to take her in for the procedure.
My world crashed down. That night, my family was supposed to go to 5 Happiness for my dad's birthday dinner. We were happy and excited. He was going to come over to work on the house a little with me while Mark was at work. It was going to be a busy but fun day. And then, there we were. In the Cardiac Care Unit, waiting to hear how my father was after a heart attack, my mom telling me she could have cancer, and all of this being the absolute last thing I ever expected to happen.
The heart attack turned out to be a small one, and Dad went home for his birthday. I spent the night there so that I could get up early and bring my mom to the hospital for her surgery. My aunt, a breast cancer survivor, came to keep me company while we waited. Hours later, I was able to bring her home. That weekend, I spent most of my time chauffeuring them around, putting almost 200 miles on my car. Mom's results were good, no worries. Dad has also made a great recovery.
But then we were stuck. We didn't know what we were doing with regards to home repair. My dad wasn't allowed to do anything for a while. We decided to go through a contractor. He was going to replace our doors, but it took him about a month or so to return the new doors to us. All of our old doors, save for the ones on the bathrooms, were gone. The guys skipped out on a lot of stuff, and months went by. We fired him, got all of our doors back, and tried another guy, who gave us the runaround for a few months. We hired a third guy, who came on time on the appointed days, brought a crew, and had the den sheetrocked and floated in two half days. Booyah.
This was in February/March. We started in October.
We are still not finished. We have trouble aligning my work schedule with Mark's work schedule with my dad's work schedule. We've had another guy do our crown molding, and we'll have other people come in to finish the rest. We'd planned to be done by Christmas. We had no idea it would be June and we still would not be finished.
What we've accomplished:
Painting the range hood and the oven/broiler
Repairing the roof
New A/C and heater
Fixing the ceiling in the den, where the leaking roof ruined things
Removed paneling in the den
Put up sheetrock in the den
Painted the den and the kitchen (we left the paneling there, and deglossed and primed it before painting)
Crown molding in the den and kitchen
Removed the doors to the upper cabinets
Put cabinet contents in boxes in the den (sighhhh)
Deglossed the upper cabinets
Painted, mostly, the upper cabinets
Purchased new hinges for the cabinets
Purchased new drawer pulls/handles for the cabinets
Ordered new flooring which will go in the den, kitchen, and hallway
Had the flooring delivered
Put new doors up
What still needs to be done:
Bottom cabinets
Reattaching cabinet doors
Installing flooring
Finishing the doors
Repairing a kitchen fan
Painting pantry doors
Installing a new countertop
Installing a new kitchen sink
Repainting woodwork and reinstalling it around the windows
Sigh. Mayyybe we'll finish before the first anniversary of this project.
Don't let my Facebook presence throw you, though. I keep the browser window open and the FB tab on top, so I see notifications. And I get all ADD and start looking at whatever went up there while I'm working on other things.
Anyway, I hate that all of my posts over the past year or so have been "let me catch you up" posts, but, well, sometimes, that's just how it is.
And, unfortunately, I guess that's what this one will be.
Last regular post I'd had was about my little Nala cat. I think I just couldn't write again for a while after that.
The biggest thing to change in my life was a life-saving moment. My quality of life dropped significantly last year. It started getting worse towards the end of the summer and into the beginning of the school year. I would come home, fight to stay awake, fall asleep on the couch, have Mark wake me up, eat, fall back asleep, have Mark wake me up, shower, go to sleep, go to work, drag all day, go home... and repeat.
It was scary, but I'd also lost my will to care about it. I was shedding like crazy, couldn't stay awake, quick to fly off the handle, and constantly dealing with broken nails. As much as I hate the phrase, Mark tried a "come to Jesus" moment. My annual exam was approaching, and he made me promise to talk to my doctor about it. My mom's theory was that I was having thyroid troubles. That WOULD explain the weight gain I've had over the past few years. I just chalked that up to Katrina, but maybe there was more to it.
Sure enough, I was suffering from hypothyroidism. My levels were dangerously low. A few weeks of trying different dosages, and my quality of life started to improve. I was also given something for the PTSD I've been dealing with the past few years, and that did it, too. I lost about 10 pounds almost immediately, all without changing any dietary or exercise regimens.
What do you know. I wasn't crazy. I was just in physical trouble.
The school year was a very good one. I got to repeat my classes from the year before. This is the first time in 6 years that I've been able to reuse my class materials. What a wonderful, wonderful thing. Of course, adjustments needed to be made here and there, but wow. Just reducing that level of stress was amazing.
I remember being in school, probably middle school, and thinking about how my poor teachers had to teach the same things, year after year after year. Little did I know that one day I would long for that luxury. It's pretty neat knowing what I have coming up for first quarter. I like that I can improve upon what I did the year before. It's funny how your perspective changes as you age.
I still do not see much of Mark. He works nights, I work days, and we frequently worked Sundays, and he sometimes worked Saturdays. It's hard. But we try to find things to do, be it drive around or watch a movie we DVRed two weeks prior.
We do have one project we've tried working on together, though. My father told us that he would help us remodel the front of our house. We hit a huge snafu, though. Well, many of them.
We tore down the paneling in the den. Bit by bit, we worked a little on the weekends. We got some of the sheetrock up, but the holidays started getting in the way. The weekend before my dad's birthday, Mark went to work for 5 a.m. Shortly after 5 a.m., the phone rang. It was my mom. My father had a heart attack, and they were in the hospital. I showered, ran out into the cold early Saturday morning with a soaking wet head, and somehow safely made it to the hospital. While they were working on him, my mom broke the news to me that she was having a lumpectomy that week, and she was only telling me because now I would have to take her in for the procedure.
My world crashed down. That night, my family was supposed to go to 5 Happiness for my dad's birthday dinner. We were happy and excited. He was going to come over to work on the house a little with me while Mark was at work. It was going to be a busy but fun day. And then, there we were. In the Cardiac Care Unit, waiting to hear how my father was after a heart attack, my mom telling me she could have cancer, and all of this being the absolute last thing I ever expected to happen.
The heart attack turned out to be a small one, and Dad went home for his birthday. I spent the night there so that I could get up early and bring my mom to the hospital for her surgery. My aunt, a breast cancer survivor, came to keep me company while we waited. Hours later, I was able to bring her home. That weekend, I spent most of my time chauffeuring them around, putting almost 200 miles on my car. Mom's results were good, no worries. Dad has also made a great recovery.
But then we were stuck. We didn't know what we were doing with regards to home repair. My dad wasn't allowed to do anything for a while. We decided to go through a contractor. He was going to replace our doors, but it took him about a month or so to return the new doors to us. All of our old doors, save for the ones on the bathrooms, were gone. The guys skipped out on a lot of stuff, and months went by. We fired him, got all of our doors back, and tried another guy, who gave us the runaround for a few months. We hired a third guy, who came on time on the appointed days, brought a crew, and had the den sheetrocked and floated in two half days. Booyah.
This was in February/March. We started in October.
We are still not finished. We have trouble aligning my work schedule with Mark's work schedule with my dad's work schedule. We've had another guy do our crown molding, and we'll have other people come in to finish the rest. We'd planned to be done by Christmas. We had no idea it would be June and we still would not be finished.
What we've accomplished:
Painting the range hood and the oven/broiler
Repairing the roof
New A/C and heater
Fixing the ceiling in the den, where the leaking roof ruined things
Removed paneling in the den
Put up sheetrock in the den
Painted the den and the kitchen (we left the paneling there, and deglossed and primed it before painting)
Crown molding in the den and kitchen
Removed the doors to the upper cabinets
Put cabinet contents in boxes in the den (sighhhh)
Deglossed the upper cabinets
Painted, mostly, the upper cabinets
Purchased new hinges for the cabinets
Purchased new drawer pulls/handles for the cabinets
Ordered new flooring which will go in the den, kitchen, and hallway
Had the flooring delivered
Put new doors up
What still needs to be done:
Bottom cabinets
Reattaching cabinet doors
Installing flooring
Finishing the doors
Repairing a kitchen fan
Painting pantry doors
Installing a new countertop
Installing a new kitchen sink
Repainting woodwork and reinstalling it around the windows
Sigh. Mayyybe we'll finish before the first anniversary of this project.
Thursday, June 16, 2011
I'm not crazy, I swear.
As of last Friday, I have officially spent half of my life working at my summer camp. Sixteen years. In some ways, it doesn't feel like it. In other ways, I feel ancient. I think about how young I actually was, about how green I was, and about all of the big events I've gone through since I started working there.
There was the burial ceremony for my grandfather's ashes, the deaths of my maternal grandparents, high school graduation, going to college, meeting the man I would marry, editing the college newspaper, flying to Idaho with my friends for the first wedding of a friend I ever attended, going to New York and DC for conventions, interning for a local weekly paper, spending a summer as a secretary, beach trips, the family trip where we drove to Philly, 9-11, graduating from college, getting my first real job, getting married, having a honeymoon, moving into our house, getting downsized, getting a year-round gig there for three years, taking tests towards certification, going back to school, getting hired at school, travel camp with children, Hurricane Katrina, going back to my alma mater, living with my in-laws, living with my parents, Mark living in Baton Rouge in a trailer, Mark moving in with my parents, living there for 2 years, rebuilding our lives, buying our home, working on our home, swimming with manatees, becoming a certified teacher, getting the plays, taking over the yearbook, coaching bowling, getting my coaching certification, traveling with students, Obama's election, attending his inauguration, getting my car totaled by a drunk woman, traveling to Greece, becoming a certified journalism educator, and so many more little things.
Sixteen years ago, I couldn't drive. Stacy and I rode our bikes to work that first year. Later, she got a car, and she would bring me. We were junior counselors. I rose to senior counselor, then unit head, and now I'm the assistant director. I've been through more directors and assistant directors than I can count.
Sixteen years ago, I wasn't anywhere near what I am today. I teach a kid who was my worst camper ever (the kind that makes you never want to work with kids again). Ten years after he was the bane of my existence, he was one of my bowlers, and he's working for me now. He didn't remember having me as his counselor, but he did remember how he acted back then. He was concerned that I would hold his past against him. I told him that I wouldn't hold his past against him, because I didn't want him to hold my past against me. Ha.
Sixteen years ago, if you'd told me that I would still work here, I'd have thought you were an idiot. I was going to be a JOURNALIST. I didn't know that my years at camp would lead to a year-round gig for three years, or that it would influence me to go back to school for my teaching certification and to make a big career change. I also had no way of knowing that print journalism is a dying art, and that getting out when I did was the smartest thing I ever did.
People always ask me why I keep doing this. It has especially been common this year. I don't really have a solid answer. My standard response is that I need to have something to do during the summer, or else I would weigh 800 pounds and be in debt. Which is true. I've never worked retail and I've never worked in food services. I need a teaching break, and we also don't do our own summer school, so I can't teach that. I'm the assistant director; if I was a counselor, I probably would have given it up years ago. I like being administration. Without a master's, I cannot be scholastic administration. And I'm not sure that I would necessarily want to be out of the classroom. So this settles that desire while keeping me in the classroom. And, it's just something I enjoy. I shouldn't have to justify that.
I guess people are just not used to people who have one, let alone two, jobs which they love wholeheartedly. But I somehow do. Neither pays well. Both demand ridiculous hours and mental strain, as well as work "after hours." And yet, I wouldn't have it any other way. I know how lucky I am. I don't take these things lightly. And so, I continue to work at both places. And will do so for as long as I can.
There was the burial ceremony for my grandfather's ashes, the deaths of my maternal grandparents, high school graduation, going to college, meeting the man I would marry, editing the college newspaper, flying to Idaho with my friends for the first wedding of a friend I ever attended, going to New York and DC for conventions, interning for a local weekly paper, spending a summer as a secretary, beach trips, the family trip where we drove to Philly, 9-11, graduating from college, getting my first real job, getting married, having a honeymoon, moving into our house, getting downsized, getting a year-round gig there for three years, taking tests towards certification, going back to school, getting hired at school, travel camp with children, Hurricane Katrina, going back to my alma mater, living with my in-laws, living with my parents, Mark living in Baton Rouge in a trailer, Mark moving in with my parents, living there for 2 years, rebuilding our lives, buying our home, working on our home, swimming with manatees, becoming a certified teacher, getting the plays, taking over the yearbook, coaching bowling, getting my coaching certification, traveling with students, Obama's election, attending his inauguration, getting my car totaled by a drunk woman, traveling to Greece, becoming a certified journalism educator, and so many more little things.
Sixteen years ago, I couldn't drive. Stacy and I rode our bikes to work that first year. Later, she got a car, and she would bring me. We were junior counselors. I rose to senior counselor, then unit head, and now I'm the assistant director. I've been through more directors and assistant directors than I can count.
Sixteen years ago, I wasn't anywhere near what I am today. I teach a kid who was my worst camper ever (the kind that makes you never want to work with kids again). Ten years after he was the bane of my existence, he was one of my bowlers, and he's working for me now. He didn't remember having me as his counselor, but he did remember how he acted back then. He was concerned that I would hold his past against him. I told him that I wouldn't hold his past against him, because I didn't want him to hold my past against me. Ha.
Sixteen years ago, if you'd told me that I would still work here, I'd have thought you were an idiot. I was going to be a JOURNALIST. I didn't know that my years at camp would lead to a year-round gig for three years, or that it would influence me to go back to school for my teaching certification and to make a big career change. I also had no way of knowing that print journalism is a dying art, and that getting out when I did was the smartest thing I ever did.
People always ask me why I keep doing this. It has especially been common this year. I don't really have a solid answer. My standard response is that I need to have something to do during the summer, or else I would weigh 800 pounds and be in debt. Which is true. I've never worked retail and I've never worked in food services. I need a teaching break, and we also don't do our own summer school, so I can't teach that. I'm the assistant director; if I was a counselor, I probably would have given it up years ago. I like being administration. Without a master's, I cannot be scholastic administration. And I'm not sure that I would necessarily want to be out of the classroom. So this settles that desire while keeping me in the classroom. And, it's just something I enjoy. I shouldn't have to justify that.
I guess people are just not used to people who have one, let alone two, jobs which they love wholeheartedly. But I somehow do. Neither pays well. Both demand ridiculous hours and mental strain, as well as work "after hours." And yet, I wouldn't have it any other way. I know how lucky I am. I don't take these things lightly. And so, I continue to work at both places. And will do so for as long as I can.
Tuesday, August 03, 2010
What a long 6 months...
So I've finally got some time to sit and post. I return to school on Thursday (the kids arrive on the 11th), and camp ended on Friday. Not a full week off, but I will take what I can get. It's given me time to do this.
First: I've changed the look of the blog for the first time...well...ever.
Second: Here's a preview of topics for this post.
1. Super Bowl
2. Saints parade
3. Greece
4. Portland
5. Oil spill
6. Shazzy
7. Camp
8. St. Petersburg
9. Things that are good.
Super Bowl
My last post was written the day of the Super Bowl. Guess you know we won, right? I was downtown that night, high-fiving strangers (all while pushing aside my inner Howie Mandell), hugging strangers, drinking Dom with my mom, alternately giggling and crying, watching people dance to "Halftime" in the streets, yelling "Who Dat" like an idiot... amazing. I can't properly describe the energy in the city.
My friends and I were reminiscing about it last night, and we were talking about what a long three months of Thanksgiving, Christmas, title games, Super Bowl, victory parade, and Mardi Gras itself. Poor livers. Long, but so very upbeat, positive, and memorable.
Saints Parade
We got out of school early that day. A group of fellow teachers walked to the end of the Carrollton Streetcar line and rode it as far up Canal as we could. We stood out in the (for New Orleans) freezing cold with a minimum of 800,000 of our closest friends. The lines for the streetcar after the parade were ridiculous. We decided to start walking down Canal, because we figured the cars would start emptying out, and we could hop on further down the line. FAIL. We walked the whole way back to school. We stopped at a great pizza place on Canal near Carrollton, rested, re-energized, and made it the rest of the way. My friend Michelle stayed behind because her husband works downtown, and his car was there. Well, our looong walk got us home around the same time their car ride did. Unbelievable.
Greece
Lucky me got to go on the school trip as a chaperone. We went to Greece. I hate flying and thought I would never have a chance to go to Europe, and I was very anxious. But a few Benadryl later, and that trans-Atlantic flight wasn't as bad as I thought it would be.
It was an amazing journey. The weather was perfect the whole 9 days. The food was delicious. Being in the presence of the ruins devoted to the mythological beings I've loved since I was about 7 years old was breathtaking, as was the countryside. Athens itself is pretty funky, but the other places we visited: Delphi, Olympia, Cape Sounion, and three islands: Aegina, Poros, and Hydra, were gorgeous. In Delphi and Epidaurus, I stood in ancient Greek theaters. Me, a theatre nerd and drama teacher. I was speechless, especially in Epidaurus, where the amphitheater has naturally perfect acoustics. We rode donkeys in Hydra, an island where donkeys are they only means of transportation. No vehicles are on the island. We ran a race in the original Olympic stadium. Words cannot do this trip justice. And now, I have a travel bug. I want to see so much more of the world. It's so big, and I am so small, comparatively.
Portland
I went to the Journalism Educators Association Convention about two weeks later. It was my first trip to Oregon, and I fell in love with the city. Public transportation in the form of the light rail is amazing and I realllllly wish we had that here. Or if the streetcars had more lines, that would also do. I learned a lot at the convention, but most importantly, I took a very difficult exam: the Certified Journalism Educator exam. And a few months later, I learned that I passed it and am one of 4 CJEs in the state of Louisiana.
Oil Spill
Over 100 days ago, my state was met with more problems when the Deepwater Horizon Well exploded and started leaking no...pouring... oil into the Gulf of Mexico.
I am so tired of people thinking that this is no big deal or that it won't affect them. Well, to you, those same people who complained when our children overcrowded your schools, our people invaded your towns, and our adults looked for work...guess what. Those areas where the oil, fishing, shrimping, crabbing, and oystering communities thrive...most of whom have known only these trades, who have done this for generations, who will lose their livelihoods, their ways of life, their homes...they will move out and invade your lives again. The jobs, the schools, the towns....all endangered. That seafood you eat? Where does it come from? Already, we had dinner at two seafood and po-boy restaurants where oysters were not available. The brown pelican, that beautiful, graceful bird which represents our state, was endangered. Recently, it came off that list. Guess what? This oil spill is sending it right back. Here's 100 days of tragedy, animated: http://www.nola.com/news/gulf-oil-spill/index.ssf/2010/08/graphic_brings_together_multip.html
Shazzy
My sweet man, my Shazbot Schmoo, stopped eating and started hiding. Two Sundays ago, he could barely walk and wasn't interested in food. He let out a horrendous yowl and vomited bile all over the hallway. There was so much. I didn't know a cat could have that much vomit...especially when there was no food in his belly. Mark was not home, and I called him, scared. We went to an emergency vet center, and they kept him overnight. He was dangerously anemic, and he needed an emergency blood transfusion.
The next day, he regained interest in food, seemed livelier. We were supposed to pick him up that night, but they diagnosed him with feline leukemia, probably picked up in 2008 when he escaped while we were getting our dishwasher installed. It is a virus, and you can go two years after contracting it.
He was never sick a day in his life until that horrible weekend. He started having respiratory distress and they had to drain the area around his heart. He stopped eating. They kept him overnight. The next day, we picked him up, and immediately knew we didn't have much time with him. They thought maybe he would eat in familiar surroundings, but he didn't. Around midnight, we knew he was in too much pain, was unable to breathe well, and was refusing food, water, and medicine. He'd soiled a duffel bag he'd been laying on under the guest bed in Mark's office.
We brought him to the emergency place again, and the doctor agreed that there was only one way to end it. He was in my lap as it happened. I really can't write about it.
Shazzy was 6 years old when he died on July 22, 2010. I love you and miss you, my little man cat.
Camp
Spent my 15th year at camp. The success of it lies in Jessica, our fantastic returning camp director, who amazes me continually. Even more amazing? Next year will be the official marker of me having been there for half of my life. Zoinks. It was a good summer. We ended Friday, and I can't wait until next June.
St. Petersburg
I also spent a weekend in St. Pete (Florida, not Russia) at the Poynter Institute for Media Studies. I earned a spot (one of 22 people in the country) in a workshop on bringing your high school media online. It was absolutely awesome, and I learned so much. I have a million and one ideas for the journalism class I teach, and I am very excited about implementing them. In addition, we had a mini-getaway. We saw the Dali Museum, which was fabulous, ate some good food, and enjoyed being away. We never get to take vacations together, and so this was great and long overdue.
Things that are good
Lily has stopped living in fear. She is playful, highly visible, and using the litter box for the first time in 6 years. This is so very bittersweet.
I am teaching things that I taught last year, all of which I enjoy.
I am looking forward to being with my "school friends" again. I've missed them the past two months.
I'm sure there's more stuff, but I'm a bit overwhelmed at the moment. I'll try to update again faster than 6 months.
First: I've changed the look of the blog for the first time...well...ever.
Second: Here's a preview of topics for this post.
1. Super Bowl
2. Saints parade
3. Greece
4. Portland
5. Oil spill
6. Shazzy
7. Camp
8. St. Petersburg
9. Things that are good.
Super Bowl
My last post was written the day of the Super Bowl. Guess you know we won, right? I was downtown that night, high-fiving strangers (all while pushing aside my inner Howie Mandell), hugging strangers, drinking Dom with my mom, alternately giggling and crying, watching people dance to "Halftime" in the streets, yelling "Who Dat" like an idiot... amazing. I can't properly describe the energy in the city.
My friends and I were reminiscing about it last night, and we were talking about what a long three months of Thanksgiving, Christmas, title games, Super Bowl, victory parade, and Mardi Gras itself. Poor livers. Long, but so very upbeat, positive, and memorable.
Saints Parade
We got out of school early that day. A group of fellow teachers walked to the end of the Carrollton Streetcar line and rode it as far up Canal as we could. We stood out in the (for New Orleans) freezing cold with a minimum of 800,000 of our closest friends. The lines for the streetcar after the parade were ridiculous. We decided to start walking down Canal, because we figured the cars would start emptying out, and we could hop on further down the line. FAIL. We walked the whole way back to school. We stopped at a great pizza place on Canal near Carrollton, rested, re-energized, and made it the rest of the way. My friend Michelle stayed behind because her husband works downtown, and his car was there. Well, our looong walk got us home around the same time their car ride did. Unbelievable.
Greece
Lucky me got to go on the school trip as a chaperone. We went to Greece. I hate flying and thought I would never have a chance to go to Europe, and I was very anxious. But a few Benadryl later, and that trans-Atlantic flight wasn't as bad as I thought it would be.
It was an amazing journey. The weather was perfect the whole 9 days. The food was delicious. Being in the presence of the ruins devoted to the mythological beings I've loved since I was about 7 years old was breathtaking, as was the countryside. Athens itself is pretty funky, but the other places we visited: Delphi, Olympia, Cape Sounion, and three islands: Aegina, Poros, and Hydra, were gorgeous. In Delphi and Epidaurus, I stood in ancient Greek theaters. Me, a theatre nerd and drama teacher. I was speechless, especially in Epidaurus, where the amphitheater has naturally perfect acoustics. We rode donkeys in Hydra, an island where donkeys are they only means of transportation. No vehicles are on the island. We ran a race in the original Olympic stadium. Words cannot do this trip justice. And now, I have a travel bug. I want to see so much more of the world. It's so big, and I am so small, comparatively.
Portland
I went to the Journalism Educators Association Convention about two weeks later. It was my first trip to Oregon, and I fell in love with the city. Public transportation in the form of the light rail is amazing and I realllllly wish we had that here. Or if the streetcars had more lines, that would also do. I learned a lot at the convention, but most importantly, I took a very difficult exam: the Certified Journalism Educator exam. And a few months later, I learned that I passed it and am one of 4 CJEs in the state of Louisiana.
Oil Spill
Over 100 days ago, my state was met with more problems when the Deepwater Horizon Well exploded and started leaking no...pouring... oil into the Gulf of Mexico.
I am so tired of people thinking that this is no big deal or that it won't affect them. Well, to you, those same people who complained when our children overcrowded your schools, our people invaded your towns, and our adults looked for work...guess what. Those areas where the oil, fishing, shrimping, crabbing, and oystering communities thrive...most of whom have known only these trades, who have done this for generations, who will lose their livelihoods, their ways of life, their homes...they will move out and invade your lives again. The jobs, the schools, the towns....all endangered. That seafood you eat? Where does it come from? Already, we had dinner at two seafood and po-boy restaurants where oysters were not available. The brown pelican, that beautiful, graceful bird which represents our state, was endangered. Recently, it came off that list. Guess what? This oil spill is sending it right back. Here's 100 days of tragedy, animated: http://www.nola.com/news/gulf-oil-spill/index.ssf/2010/08/graphic_brings_together_multip.html
Shazzy
My sweet man, my Shazbot Schmoo, stopped eating and started hiding. Two Sundays ago, he could barely walk and wasn't interested in food. He let out a horrendous yowl and vomited bile all over the hallway. There was so much. I didn't know a cat could have that much vomit...especially when there was no food in his belly. Mark was not home, and I called him, scared. We went to an emergency vet center, and they kept him overnight. He was dangerously anemic, and he needed an emergency blood transfusion.
The next day, he regained interest in food, seemed livelier. We were supposed to pick him up that night, but they diagnosed him with feline leukemia, probably picked up in 2008 when he escaped while we were getting our dishwasher installed. It is a virus, and you can go two years after contracting it.
He was never sick a day in his life until that horrible weekend. He started having respiratory distress and they had to drain the area around his heart. He stopped eating. They kept him overnight. The next day, we picked him up, and immediately knew we didn't have much time with him. They thought maybe he would eat in familiar surroundings, but he didn't. Around midnight, we knew he was in too much pain, was unable to breathe well, and was refusing food, water, and medicine. He'd soiled a duffel bag he'd been laying on under the guest bed in Mark's office.
We brought him to the emergency place again, and the doctor agreed that there was only one way to end it. He was in my lap as it happened. I really can't write about it.
Shazzy was 6 years old when he died on July 22, 2010. I love you and miss you, my little man cat.
Camp
Spent my 15th year at camp. The success of it lies in Jessica, our fantastic returning camp director, who amazes me continually. Even more amazing? Next year will be the official marker of me having been there for half of my life. Zoinks. It was a good summer. We ended Friday, and I can't wait until next June.
St. Petersburg
I also spent a weekend in St. Pete (Florida, not Russia) at the Poynter Institute for Media Studies. I earned a spot (one of 22 people in the country) in a workshop on bringing your high school media online. It was absolutely awesome, and I learned so much. I have a million and one ideas for the journalism class I teach, and I am very excited about implementing them. In addition, we had a mini-getaway. We saw the Dali Museum, which was fabulous, ate some good food, and enjoyed being away. We never get to take vacations together, and so this was great and long overdue.
Things that are good
Lily has stopped living in fear. She is playful, highly visible, and using the litter box for the first time in 6 years. This is so very bittersweet.
I am teaching things that I taught last year, all of which I enjoy.
I am looking forward to being with my "school friends" again. I've missed them the past two months.
I'm sure there's more stuff, but I'm a bit overwhelmed at the moment. I'll try to update again faster than 6 months.
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
Some updates
Swift finger of justice....from the parents!!!!
When last we spoke (well, I wrote, you read), We'd busted the kid for alcohol and my 8th grade boys were so wide-eyed in wonderment as to the identity of the rat.
The alcohol bearer is still at school. His mom brought him to jail and had them lock him up for a few hours, then brought him to rehab at Children's. I don't think he'll be trying a stunt like that any time soon.
Oh noes...
But today, a much younger student was busted for the same thing. Sigh.
Luigi needs a 1up mushroom
As for the kid I wrote about earlier, the one who I want so desperately to save, well...
He's in school. An 8th grader. 15. He's said before that he can't wait until he's 16 so he can drop out. He's probably going to get his wish.
He started out okay. 4th quarter is research project time. He started out not great, but fairly on track. He was scared. Ish. And then....he trailed off. And I had to let him. He needed As in 3 classes to pass the year. One A in one class would have let him into summer school with an attempt to pass the year. He's not getting them. He did zero work and zero studying in all 7 classes...but will pass drama based on participation. I don't know what will become of him. I'm scared and nervous for him. I gave him all I had, and he took it all for granted. I wish him luck in whatever he does.
All of the kids are allowed to participate in graduation, but he will not technically graduate.
Ending another one
The final 8th grade final exam is tomorrow. On Thursday, they'll have their corrections, followed by graduation (excuse me, promotion ceremony) rehearsal, then field day. No school for 8th grade on Friday. Promotion on Monday morning, 12th grade graduation that night. Regular school for the rest of the week, then a week of exams, with school ending May 29.
CAMP!
Jess and I are ROCKING camp prep. It's approaching so quickly! CIT Kick-off party is May 31, Orientation begins June 2, and camp starts June 8. We won't discuss June 10th major significance. I'm having too good a day to think about it, especially considering...
I started off on the wrong foot today!
I don't know HOW I did it, but I rolled my chair onto my toes this morning, and the pain was so bad that I couldn't even stand up at first. Instead of a rollicking theater game, I had my kids continue watching "My Fair Lady" so I could sit down. Boo. One would assume that that meant that my day was awful, but...
Mission accomplished!
Contract talks finally happened today. Usual minor pay raise. I get to keep the bowling team. I'll co-teach journalism/yearbook with my friend Kristin. I'll teach some older students (Many of whom I've taught before, and including the seniors, who were my first 8th graders.) And, best of all: I get to direct the school plays!!!
When last we spoke (well, I wrote, you read), We'd busted the kid for alcohol and my 8th grade boys were so wide-eyed in wonderment as to the identity of the rat.
The alcohol bearer is still at school. His mom brought him to jail and had them lock him up for a few hours, then brought him to rehab at Children's. I don't think he'll be trying a stunt like that any time soon.
Oh noes...
But today, a much younger student was busted for the same thing. Sigh.
Luigi needs a 1up mushroom
As for the kid I wrote about earlier, the one who I want so desperately to save, well...
He's in school. An 8th grader. 15. He's said before that he can't wait until he's 16 so he can drop out. He's probably going to get his wish.
He started out okay. 4th quarter is research project time. He started out not great, but fairly on track. He was scared. Ish. And then....he trailed off. And I had to let him. He needed As in 3 classes to pass the year. One A in one class would have let him into summer school with an attempt to pass the year. He's not getting them. He did zero work and zero studying in all 7 classes...but will pass drama based on participation. I don't know what will become of him. I'm scared and nervous for him. I gave him all I had, and he took it all for granted. I wish him luck in whatever he does.
All of the kids are allowed to participate in graduation, but he will not technically graduate.
Ending another one
The final 8th grade final exam is tomorrow. On Thursday, they'll have their corrections, followed by graduation (excuse me, promotion ceremony) rehearsal, then field day. No school for 8th grade on Friday. Promotion on Monday morning, 12th grade graduation that night. Regular school for the rest of the week, then a week of exams, with school ending May 29.
CAMP!
Jess and I are ROCKING camp prep. It's approaching so quickly! CIT Kick-off party is May 31, Orientation begins June 2, and camp starts June 8. We won't discuss June 10th major significance. I'm having too good a day to think about it, especially considering...
I started off on the wrong foot today!
I don't know HOW I did it, but I rolled my chair onto my toes this morning, and the pain was so bad that I couldn't even stand up at first. Instead of a rollicking theater game, I had my kids continue watching "My Fair Lady" so I could sit down. Boo. One would assume that that meant that my day was awful, but...
Mission accomplished!
Contract talks finally happened today. Usual minor pay raise. I get to keep the bowling team. I'll co-teach journalism/yearbook with my friend Kristin. I'll teach some older students (Many of whom I've taught before, and including the seniors, who were my first 8th graders.) And, best of all: I get to direct the school plays!!!
Monday, April 06, 2009
Uh, you did.
Great moments in teaching, part eleventy-jillion:
7th period writing...7 8th grade males. I love the class...but boy do they drive me nuts.
Today, "Rick" came to class and almost immediately started asking what would happen if someone brought alcohol to school. In a water bottle. It started out sounding very hypothetical, and Rick's goal in life seems to be to see if he can get a rise out of me. But when "In a water bottle" got added to the mix, my curiosity was piqued. I said I wasn't sure, as I'd never seen it happen here before, but I wouldn't be surprised if there was, at minimum, a suspension and maybe an expulsion. Rick and Luigi exchanged a furtive glance (or so they thought) and Luigi muttered under his breath, "They're gonna be in troublllllle..."
I decided to play it cool. In an incredulous, joking voice, I asked, "Who's got a water bottle of alcohol at school?" Luigi started to say a name, but Rick started making noises and singing "NO ONE! NO ONE! NO ONE WOULD DO THAT< MS. M. YOU KNOW I'M JOKING!!!!"
I had my e-mail program open, actually, and I e-mailed the principal, the vice principal, and the guidance counselor. I detailed what I'd just heard and suggested that they check the situation out. Evidently, at least one of those people got the e-mail, and the principal went to investigate. He got a kid, not the one mentioned, in his office.
Rick returned the laptops to the laptop cart in another room and came back to our room. He grabbed Luigi and said, "Someone ratted them out!!! Mr. E came to get them!!! Someone ratted them out!!!" The two of them then got in a discussion wherein they were trying to figure who'd sold out their friends. I just sat there, biting the insides of my cheeks.
7th period writing...7 8th grade males. I love the class...but boy do they drive me nuts.
Today, "Rick" came to class and almost immediately started asking what would happen if someone brought alcohol to school. In a water bottle. It started out sounding very hypothetical, and Rick's goal in life seems to be to see if he can get a rise out of me. But when "In a water bottle" got added to the mix, my curiosity was piqued. I said I wasn't sure, as I'd never seen it happen here before, but I wouldn't be surprised if there was, at minimum, a suspension and maybe an expulsion. Rick and Luigi exchanged a furtive glance (or so they thought) and Luigi muttered under his breath, "They're gonna be in troublllllle..."
I decided to play it cool. In an incredulous, joking voice, I asked, "Who's got a water bottle of alcohol at school?" Luigi started to say a name, but Rick started making noises and singing "NO ONE! NO ONE! NO ONE WOULD DO THAT< MS. M. YOU KNOW I'M JOKING!!!!"
I had my e-mail program open, actually, and I e-mailed the principal, the vice principal, and the guidance counselor. I detailed what I'd just heard and suggested that they check the situation out. Evidently, at least one of those people got the e-mail, and the principal went to investigate. He got a kid, not the one mentioned, in his office.
Rick returned the laptops to the laptop cart in another room and came back to our room. He grabbed Luigi and said, "Someone ratted them out!!! Mr. E came to get them!!! Someone ratted them out!!!" The two of them then got in a discussion wherein they were trying to figure who'd sold out their friends. I just sat there, biting the insides of my cheeks.
Thursday, March 26, 2009
I'm not as insane as you'd think
When I'm frustrated, I do what everyone does: I vent. I've been very frustrated for the greater part of the year. We've had a very rough batch of 7th graders, who are sort of settling in...but may I please point out that 5 of the originals are no longer with us, for various reasons. Makes a lot of difference. So did rearranging their class schedules at midterm. Divide and conquer, you know?
And a lot of times, when I'm venting to people about work, I get suggestions that I move on to another school. Not at the moment, but the next school year. And I was with them on that until after the redistribution in January. However, I also ended up dropping my morning duty, which I'd had every morning for first semester, and traded out one of my 7th grade classes for one of the 8th grade classes in drama, which is a quarter-long course. This meant I now taught 4 8th grade courses and 1 tiny 7th grade writing course. Which, bonus, means in a few weeks when the 8th graders graduate, I will teach...1 class a day! WOOOOO!
Not only that, but I felt the administration take a large proactive swing. Some children, as I mentioned before, are no longer with us. Others were shifted around to levelize the classes.
My quality of life went up...even though the accident in January brought it way down.
And still, people kept telling me to get out. Go somewhere else.
But the day of the accident, I told my vice principal that I had thought about not returning, but feeling their support and having my own personal support network at work made me change my mind. I wanted to come back. And I meant it. I still do. I plan to. I didn't send any résumés out, which I had been planning to do come January. I decided to stay. And people think I'm crazy for it. I got my certification this year; I could make a lot more money in public schools (but I don't wanna get shot at work...) or many other Catholic and private schools. Yet, I decided against it, even though we desperately need more money right now. So I'd like to make a list of the things that are making me stay, because I feel like people need to understand.
1. The administration backed us. They generally do. They were proactive, and things have vastly improved.
2. I have a support network of coworkers, without whom I could not have made it through the last 4 years.
3. We have a kid who, while in the 5/6 classroom, was isolated from his peers because he has proximity issues. He would growl at kids and push them. He's probably our lowest performing student, to boot. They kept his desk away from everyone with a no-fly zone around it. The kids stayed away. He tried to do it with us, and we did not allow it. He now will sit next to other people and has stopped growling. He makes conversation with me almost every day. He doesn't wear his black leather gloves to school as often as he used to. (Yes, even on hot days....and I thought I had germaphobe issues!!!) He hasn't made much progress academically, which is not good. He has, however, become more functional for the real-world. He came with us to the Inauguration (the post is still coming) and stayed in a hotel room with three other boys, stayed with his chaperone at all times, and actually got to the point where he "snuggled" up with a group of kids in order to stay warm while we were waiting for the Inauguration to begin. He beat my foot at one point, but he didn't realize it was me and thought someone was trying to step on him, when in reality I was blocking him from being stepped on. But when I showed him whose foot it was, he mellowed. Point being, I am part of a team that really accomplished something major with this kid. That's an amazing feeling.
4. Back to my support network, these teachers have made every day worthwhile. Melissa (B)K (broiler?) helped me through Katrina. We both lost the same amount of stuff, and when I was paired with a God-awful she-beast after the storm, she and Kelly helped me cope. I can't thank her enough for what she did for me. Melissa B. helped me deal with the God-awful she-beast as well....because she also shared a room with her and helped me put things in perspective. She's also such a kind and gentle soul. I miss Sabrina dearly, especially her e-mails detailing her life in Japan (AHEM! I know you'll see this at some point!!!). We had a lot of great, goofy times, and she and Mark were like two peas in a pod. I had a hard time going straight home from Rock-N-Bowl without having to drop her off Uptown first. I also miss coercing her to just accept a ride home and shove her bike in the back of my Rav. I loved dragging Gal around New Orleans with Jen. Charlotte cracks me up sometimes...she's a bit ridiculous, no? Dawn I can talk to for hours about many subjects, including Sabrina. I've loved every minute I've spent with my new incarnation of my work posse. I've managed to suck New Jenn in to the JCC world, bwahahahhaha.... Kristin and I think alike a lot of the time... Michelle H.H. has reluctantly joined my #5 reason why I love my job.... The three of them are the greatest group to eat lunch with (more than likely that lunch is an Amy's organic vegetarian meal or peanut butter from my "grocery store..."), share a pint with, spend 3.5 hours in a book store with, attend a party with, blow off steam together after work, go to a festival with... Bernie turns everything innocent into something dirty. Terry is fun to make afraid of me, hahaha... Brendan wore a kilt on St. Patrick's Day...Nick tells amazing stories about the wrestling team...Michelle McM is hi-friggin-larious....Coach cracks me up, even if I can't understand half the things he says in that thick Mississippi accent....Chris was awesome until he left...Candice is a phenomenal thinker and has really helped me see things clearly....and Len is goofy as all hell, when he's not busy being principal...
5. We started a book club at work!!
6. Since we don't have a sub pool, we sub for each other. And when we don't have enough people to sub, Len does it. As principal, he shouldn't have to. But he makes sure to get in the trenches and help out.
7. My first 8th graders are going to be seniors next year. I want to be there for them.
8. We may be moving next year to a new campus. Superficial, I know, but I want in on it.
9. It's where I got my start teaching.
10. I love seeing what these kids accomplish. Some of them come to us so broken and beaten down from other scholastic experiences. To watch them blossom...wow.
11. Teaching is tough and demanding no matter where you are.
12. I'm established there. People want to be in my class. Or to not be, in some cases, hahaha.
13. I've been promised the stuff I have really wanted to teach these last four years as my areas next year.
14. I had an e-mail from a former student, who moved on to another school this year...he's been in touch off and on all year. Anyway, his last report card was all A's and one B. I taught him for two years, and I'd like to think that I had a small hand in that success.
15. I focused a lot on a lot of superficial things and adult-related things. But I can't even begin to properly detail all of the kid moments.
16. It's been really exciting building a school and establishing traditions.
17. I enjoy the small-school atmosphere a lot of the time.
18. I found something that many people strive for: a job that satisfies me (most of the time) with people I love working with, in a place that makes you feel appreciated most of the time. Parents are a different part of the equation, but once in a while, you get that parent that really backs you, and everything is amazing. Why would anyone give up the happiness quotient?
And a lot of times, when I'm venting to people about work, I get suggestions that I move on to another school. Not at the moment, but the next school year. And I was with them on that until after the redistribution in January. However, I also ended up dropping my morning duty, which I'd had every morning for first semester, and traded out one of my 7th grade classes for one of the 8th grade classes in drama, which is a quarter-long course. This meant I now taught 4 8th grade courses and 1 tiny 7th grade writing course. Which, bonus, means in a few weeks when the 8th graders graduate, I will teach...1 class a day! WOOOOO!
Not only that, but I felt the administration take a large proactive swing. Some children, as I mentioned before, are no longer with us. Others were shifted around to levelize the classes.
My quality of life went up...even though the accident in January brought it way down.
And still, people kept telling me to get out. Go somewhere else.
But the day of the accident, I told my vice principal that I had thought about not returning, but feeling their support and having my own personal support network at work made me change my mind. I wanted to come back. And I meant it. I still do. I plan to. I didn't send any résumés out, which I had been planning to do come January. I decided to stay. And people think I'm crazy for it. I got my certification this year; I could make a lot more money in public schools (but I don't wanna get shot at work...) or many other Catholic and private schools. Yet, I decided against it, even though we desperately need more money right now. So I'd like to make a list of the things that are making me stay, because I feel like people need to understand.
1. The administration backed us. They generally do. They were proactive, and things have vastly improved.
2. I have a support network of coworkers, without whom I could not have made it through the last 4 years.
3. We have a kid who, while in the 5/6 classroom, was isolated from his peers because he has proximity issues. He would growl at kids and push them. He's probably our lowest performing student, to boot. They kept his desk away from everyone with a no-fly zone around it. The kids stayed away. He tried to do it with us, and we did not allow it. He now will sit next to other people and has stopped growling. He makes conversation with me almost every day. He doesn't wear his black leather gloves to school as often as he used to. (Yes, even on hot days....and I thought I had germaphobe issues!!!) He hasn't made much progress academically, which is not good. He has, however, become more functional for the real-world. He came with us to the Inauguration (the post is still coming) and stayed in a hotel room with three other boys, stayed with his chaperone at all times, and actually got to the point where he "snuggled" up with a group of kids in order to stay warm while we were waiting for the Inauguration to begin. He beat my foot at one point, but he didn't realize it was me and thought someone was trying to step on him, when in reality I was blocking him from being stepped on. But when I showed him whose foot it was, he mellowed. Point being, I am part of a team that really accomplished something major with this kid. That's an amazing feeling.
4. Back to my support network, these teachers have made every day worthwhile. Melissa (B)K (broiler?) helped me through Katrina. We both lost the same amount of stuff, and when I was paired with a God-awful she-beast after the storm, she and Kelly helped me cope. I can't thank her enough for what she did for me. Melissa B. helped me deal with the God-awful she-beast as well....because she also shared a room with her and helped me put things in perspective. She's also such a kind and gentle soul. I miss Sabrina dearly, especially her e-mails detailing her life in Japan (AHEM! I know you'll see this at some point!!!). We had a lot of great, goofy times, and she and Mark were like two peas in a pod. I had a hard time going straight home from Rock-N-Bowl without having to drop her off Uptown first. I also miss coercing her to just accept a ride home and shove her bike in the back of my Rav. I loved dragging Gal around New Orleans with Jen. Charlotte cracks me up sometimes...she's a bit ridiculous, no? Dawn I can talk to for hours about many subjects, including Sabrina. I've loved every minute I've spent with my new incarnation of my work posse. I've managed to suck New Jenn in to the JCC world, bwahahahhaha.... Kristin and I think alike a lot of the time... Michelle H.H. has reluctantly joined my #5 reason why I love my job.... The three of them are the greatest group to eat lunch with (more than likely that lunch is an Amy's organic vegetarian meal or peanut butter from my "grocery store..."), share a pint with, spend 3.5 hours in a book store with, attend a party with, blow off steam together after work, go to a festival with... Bernie turns everything innocent into something dirty. Terry is fun to make afraid of me, hahaha... Brendan wore a kilt on St. Patrick's Day...Nick tells amazing stories about the wrestling team...Michelle McM is hi-friggin-larious....Coach cracks me up, even if I can't understand half the things he says in that thick Mississippi accent....Chris was awesome until he left...Candice is a phenomenal thinker and has really helped me see things clearly....and Len is goofy as all hell, when he's not busy being principal...
5. We started a book club at work!!
6. Since we don't have a sub pool, we sub for each other. And when we don't have enough people to sub, Len does it. As principal, he shouldn't have to. But he makes sure to get in the trenches and help out.
7. My first 8th graders are going to be seniors next year. I want to be there for them.
8. We may be moving next year to a new campus. Superficial, I know, but I want in on it.
9. It's where I got my start teaching.
10. I love seeing what these kids accomplish. Some of them come to us so broken and beaten down from other scholastic experiences. To watch them blossom...wow.
11. Teaching is tough and demanding no matter where you are.
12. I'm established there. People want to be in my class. Or to not be, in some cases, hahaha.
13. I've been promised the stuff I have really wanted to teach these last four years as my areas next year.
14. I had an e-mail from a former student, who moved on to another school this year...he's been in touch off and on all year. Anyway, his last report card was all A's and one B. I taught him for two years, and I'd like to think that I had a small hand in that success.
15. I focused a lot on a lot of superficial things and adult-related things. But I can't even begin to properly detail all of the kid moments.
16. It's been really exciting building a school and establishing traditions.
17. I enjoy the small-school atmosphere a lot of the time.
18. I found something that many people strive for: a job that satisfies me (most of the time) with people I love working with, in a place that makes you feel appreciated most of the time. Parents are a different part of the equation, but once in a while, you get that parent that really backs you, and everything is amazing. Why would anyone give up the happiness quotient?
Friday, March 06, 2009
Another one for the books....
I made a bust in class today that has my head reeling....
My friend Kristin was out sick today, and so I had to sub one of her classes: 7th grade science. Just had to watch a video on baby animals. Awesome. I like animals...especially when they're babies!!!
So we're watching the video, it's on VHS, and there's a long section where the sound drops out. About 1 min. in, the sound dropped out, and I hear something make an electronic noise.
AWESOME!!!!!!!!!!
I THOUGHT it came from "Q," who had his backpack on the table, but he's a really good, really bright kid, and I thought, "Nah...can't be him!"
No one will own up to it...although the sound came back on the video and apparently N was trying to say it was her iPod. She listens to that thing so loud that I can hear the lyrics, so it probably WAS her...turns out, it wasn't a phone, but was the iPod, as I learned later...it was in her bag and she bumped it. I let her slide because she owned up to it and inadvertently helped me catch a serious problem.
I said if no one would own up to it, then everyone would have to turn in every electronic device. They could get them back with no consequences at the end of the period if someone would woman-up or man-up and admit they were guilty.
No one admits it, and I collect a Play Station Portable, a CD player, the iPod, and 7 cell phones. Seventh graders are way easier to control in some ways than the other kids. Oh, I KNOW there were more that weren't handed over. I did this once with 8th graders when a phone rang, and no one turned anything in except the guilty kid, who didn't even admit he was guilty until I turned his phone on and it repeated the exact sound I'd just heard.
Q actually gave me his phone, but his was the last one I wanted to check.
Bernie was there and heard it when it went off...he'd come to ask me something and just happened to be in the most awesome place at the most awesome time.
S immediately gets on the defensive swearing loudly that it wasn't him...so I start thinking it WAS! I checked his phone first, but it wasn't him. He did, however, have it on in his pocket, so there was some Catholic guilt weighing in on him.
I get Bernie to help figure out which phone went off, and I grab Q's phone off the top of the pile. No missed calls....and a text message from "A's dad." At 12:06 p.m. March 6. BINGO
I get A to give me her phone, which is in her hand, and she hasn't erased her messages.
Q sent her one that said "porn," another one that said "dick..." and a few more one-word texts. Texting from your pocket mustn't give you much time to text more
I scroll through and find out they've been texting since 8:30 this morning! I think, hmmm...I wonder how many days THIS has happened at school! Seeing such questionable messages sent between two 13-year-olds nearing the end of 7th grade is concerning. There's probably cause which allows you to search a bag, so I figure this extends to phones....and the texts are completely visible as I scroll. Not like I'm prying.
THEN I find he has another one he sent her that says, "i only have one condom now." With worse spelling than that, though. There's one that says his dad is passed out drunk, and another one that says he was so drunk that he "just threw up whatever the hell he just drank."
WAIT FOR IT
So I look at her phone...on application day, she was wearing jeans with patch letters that said "a boy's name starting with 'T'" on them, and she wrote, "i love t" all over them in marker.
Anyway, there's a text to a kid named T: "i can't wait to suck your **** or f*** again"
I KNOW!!!!!!!!!
Disturbed, I ask Bernie to watch the kids, write them up, and go to the principal...who's meeting with the VP. I censor the messages, because while I can say it to VP, I think Principal's ears would fall off to hear those words, hahaha.
Later, I was was eating lunch, and the principal came in in his goofy, jovial manner and said, "Want to hear the best thing of all?!?!?!?!" He says he called A's mom to tell her the phone was taken away. You can only pick up confiscated items on Thursday afternoons...so if you lose something on Friday, you're pretty much SOL. He called her mom, who says that her dad has been in the hospital or is sick or something, and so they've been letting her use his phone because something happened with hers (Taken away? I don't know. Maybe broken? Not important to the story, really...) I don't know if, in these circumstances, he had them pick it up earlier. he didn't say if he did or not.
He didn't actually see them...but my write-up for Q said that he was sending vulgar text messages to a female classmate in 5th period. Hers just said she was texting a male classmate during 5th period. So...it'll get out somehow...I'm pretty sure that they are having great weekends and that I'll TOTALLY get teacher of the year for the second year in a row, since the students vote, hahaha.
Oh, and true to my word, all electronics were returned with a warning to keep it in their lockers (school policy). No consequences other than the mild heart attacks they all probably had when I picked them up in the first place.
My friend Kristin was out sick today, and so I had to sub one of her classes: 7th grade science. Just had to watch a video on baby animals. Awesome. I like animals...especially when they're babies!!!
So we're watching the video, it's on VHS, and there's a long section where the sound drops out. About 1 min. in, the sound dropped out, and I hear something make an electronic noise.
AWESOME!!!!!!!!!!
I THOUGHT it came from "Q," who had his backpack on the table, but he's a really good, really bright kid, and I thought, "Nah...can't be him!"
No one will own up to it...although the sound came back on the video and apparently N was trying to say it was her iPod. She listens to that thing so loud that I can hear the lyrics, so it probably WAS her...turns out, it wasn't a phone, but was the iPod, as I learned later...it was in her bag and she bumped it. I let her slide because she owned up to it and inadvertently helped me catch a serious problem.
I said if no one would own up to it, then everyone would have to turn in every electronic device. They could get them back with no consequences at the end of the period if someone would woman-up or man-up and admit they were guilty.
No one admits it, and I collect a Play Station Portable, a CD player, the iPod, and 7 cell phones. Seventh graders are way easier to control in some ways than the other kids. Oh, I KNOW there were more that weren't handed over. I did this once with 8th graders when a phone rang, and no one turned anything in except the guilty kid, who didn't even admit he was guilty until I turned his phone on and it repeated the exact sound I'd just heard.
Q actually gave me his phone, but his was the last one I wanted to check.
Bernie was there and heard it when it went off...he'd come to ask me something and just happened to be in the most awesome place at the most awesome time.
S immediately gets on the defensive swearing loudly that it wasn't him...so I start thinking it WAS! I checked his phone first, but it wasn't him. He did, however, have it on in his pocket, so there was some Catholic guilt weighing in on him.
I get Bernie to help figure out which phone went off, and I grab Q's phone off the top of the pile. No missed calls....and a text message from "A's dad." At 12:06 p.m. March 6. BINGO
I get A to give me her phone, which is in her hand, and she hasn't erased her messages.
Q sent her one that said "porn," another one that said "dick..." and a few more one-word texts. Texting from your pocket mustn't give you much time to text more
I scroll through and find out they've been texting since 8:30 this morning! I think, hmmm...I wonder how many days THIS has happened at school! Seeing such questionable messages sent between two 13-year-olds nearing the end of 7th grade is concerning. There's probably cause which allows you to search a bag, so I figure this extends to phones....and the texts are completely visible as I scroll. Not like I'm prying.
THEN I find he has another one he sent her that says, "i only have one condom now." With worse spelling than that, though. There's one that says his dad is passed out drunk, and another one that says he was so drunk that he "just threw up whatever the hell he just drank."
WAIT FOR IT
So I look at her phone...on application day, she was wearing jeans with patch letters that said "a boy's name starting with 'T'" on them, and she wrote, "i love t" all over them in marker.
Anyway, there's a text to a kid named T: "i can't wait to suck your **** or f*** again"
I KNOW!!!!!!!!!
Disturbed, I ask Bernie to watch the kids, write them up, and go to the principal...who's meeting with the VP. I censor the messages, because while I can say it to VP, I think Principal's ears would fall off to hear those words, hahaha.
Later, I was was eating lunch, and the principal came in in his goofy, jovial manner and said, "Want to hear the best thing of all?!?!?!?!" He says he called A's mom to tell her the phone was taken away. You can only pick up confiscated items on Thursday afternoons...so if you lose something on Friday, you're pretty much SOL. He called her mom, who says that her dad has been in the hospital or is sick or something, and so they've been letting her use his phone because something happened with hers (Taken away? I don't know. Maybe broken? Not important to the story, really...) I don't know if, in these circumstances, he had them pick it up earlier. he didn't say if he did or not.
He didn't actually see them...but my write-up for Q said that he was sending vulgar text messages to a female classmate in 5th period. Hers just said she was texting a male classmate during 5th period. So...it'll get out somehow...I'm pretty sure that they are having great weekends and that I'll TOTALLY get teacher of the year for the second year in a row, since the students vote, hahaha.
Oh, and true to my word, all electronics were returned with a warning to keep it in their lockers (school policy). No consequences other than the mild heart attacks they all probably had when I picked them up in the first place.
Thursday, March 05, 2009
I'm really wrestling with something
I know we can't save them all. And you can only help those who want to help themselves. But I just had to make a painful decision with one of my students. I'm not helping him any more.
What kind of teacher is that?
It's my second year with him. He's from a bad family situation...a dad with more kids than I can count, a mom with a few kids, and one stable adult: his grandma. But to put him in our school, grandma, who kicks ass and has a high value on education, drives charter buses. Which means half the time, he's with her and sort of on track, and half the time he's with mom, who has zero boundaries. He's from a rough neighborhood and his cousin made headlines recently as a perpetrator in a heinous crime. He's a brilliant kid, great artist....and he doesn't give a damn about school. He says we're all out to get him.
I challenged him on that recently and said that we bend over backwards for him. Honestly...any other school would have kicked him out for behavior by now. But we give him chance after chance after chance. He must think I'm a complete idiot. He doesn't finish a test, I pretend to have not given him enough time. He doesn't turn in a project, I pretend to have lost it. He recently took a test. Literally. He stared at it and did nothing, then left without turning it in. I followed his schedule and said "You must have just grabbed it absent-mindedly...can you grab it for me?" He made a big show of digging in his bag, then not seeing it. I asked him to check my room. He didn't see it. I got stern and said it had 5 minutes to appear on my desk...or it was a zero. Guess what he ended up with? We've called grandma, who is very much on our side. She is wracked with guilt because she can't be with him all the time.
Anyway, when I called him on that, and said that we do so much for him...he thought for a minute and said, "Well, nobody but you cares. You all don't understand." I told him, no, that I can't empathize with him. I can sympathize, and I can listen, but I won't understand his neighborhood, or his family situation. He said he doesn't care anyway...his plan is to drop out at 16 (He's 15 now) and then basically follow the path of so many in his neighborhood. It breaks my heart. I love this kid. I ache for him and his situation. I want to save him from that life. But he's old enough now that he has to make the totally conscious effort of accepting help and saving himself.
I once asked why a bright child like him allows himself to fail, and he said that he wasn't doing well in "regular" school, and he made an "A" on his first test with us. He showed it to his dad, who promptly asked who he cheated from, because there was no way his son would make an "A." Now, I took that with several grains of salt...but...is there some truth hidden in there?
We tried to get him into NOCCA, the arts high school. But he wouldn't get his art portfolio together, and he failed classes. No way could he get in. Every "out" we've given him has been thrown in our faces.
He also mentioned one time that he wanted to just fail out of us so that his grandma will do with him now what she did when he failed his other school: move him somewhere else. He's already a 15-year-old 8th grader. But sharp as a tack and talented to boot!
I learned today that grandma has agreed, against her will, to allow him to go wherever he wants, based upon his ability to pass this year. He has a 28.28 F in my social studies class. He takes no notes. He puts his head down, refuses to read (and he's an excellent oral reader!)He draws during class. Now...some kids process better if they have something to do with their hands...I had one student, over the course of the week, make over 100 beautiful, delicate snowflakes during class instead of taking notes...could contribute to discussions, would stop and read without complaint when asked, and made an "A" on his test. So when that kid does something else, I don't worry. I know he's processing.
My troubled child only fills in his study guides, then doesn't study. He complained that he's failing my class because the tests are too hard. I said he should try taking notes. He said no, that it all comes on his study guide. I can't argue that point...but when I asked if he studies once he fills in the study guide, he said no. Well, gee...no wonder my tests are too hard!!!
I'm so afraid of what will come of him. When I see violence from his neighborhood in the news, I read it while holding my breath.
I know I can't save him. I went to the vice principal...numerous times...and she told me, "The teacher shouldn't put out more effort than the student." And so I stopped. I let him in on that. I told him it was up to him to decide to save himself, because I was working too hard, and he was doing nothing.
But why do I feel like a failure?
What kind of teacher is that?
It's my second year with him. He's from a bad family situation...a dad with more kids than I can count, a mom with a few kids, and one stable adult: his grandma. But to put him in our school, grandma, who kicks ass and has a high value on education, drives charter buses. Which means half the time, he's with her and sort of on track, and half the time he's with mom, who has zero boundaries. He's from a rough neighborhood and his cousin made headlines recently as a perpetrator in a heinous crime. He's a brilliant kid, great artist....and he doesn't give a damn about school. He says we're all out to get him.
I challenged him on that recently and said that we bend over backwards for him. Honestly...any other school would have kicked him out for behavior by now. But we give him chance after chance after chance. He must think I'm a complete idiot. He doesn't finish a test, I pretend to have not given him enough time. He doesn't turn in a project, I pretend to have lost it. He recently took a test. Literally. He stared at it and did nothing, then left without turning it in. I followed his schedule and said "You must have just grabbed it absent-mindedly...can you grab it for me?" He made a big show of digging in his bag, then not seeing it. I asked him to check my room. He didn't see it. I got stern and said it had 5 minutes to appear on my desk...or it was a zero. Guess what he ended up with? We've called grandma, who is very much on our side. She is wracked with guilt because she can't be with him all the time.
Anyway, when I called him on that, and said that we do so much for him...he thought for a minute and said, "Well, nobody but you cares. You all don't understand." I told him, no, that I can't empathize with him. I can sympathize, and I can listen, but I won't understand his neighborhood, or his family situation. He said he doesn't care anyway...his plan is to drop out at 16 (He's 15 now) and then basically follow the path of so many in his neighborhood. It breaks my heart. I love this kid. I ache for him and his situation. I want to save him from that life. But he's old enough now that he has to make the totally conscious effort of accepting help and saving himself.
I once asked why a bright child like him allows himself to fail, and he said that he wasn't doing well in "regular" school, and he made an "A" on his first test with us. He showed it to his dad, who promptly asked who he cheated from, because there was no way his son would make an "A." Now, I took that with several grains of salt...but...is there some truth hidden in there?
We tried to get him into NOCCA, the arts high school. But he wouldn't get his art portfolio together, and he failed classes. No way could he get in. Every "out" we've given him has been thrown in our faces.
He also mentioned one time that he wanted to just fail out of us so that his grandma will do with him now what she did when he failed his other school: move him somewhere else. He's already a 15-year-old 8th grader. But sharp as a tack and talented to boot!
I learned today that grandma has agreed, against her will, to allow him to go wherever he wants, based upon his ability to pass this year. He has a 28.28 F in my social studies class. He takes no notes. He puts his head down, refuses to read (and he's an excellent oral reader!)He draws during class. Now...some kids process better if they have something to do with their hands...I had one student, over the course of the week, make over 100 beautiful, delicate snowflakes during class instead of taking notes...could contribute to discussions, would stop and read without complaint when asked, and made an "A" on his test. So when that kid does something else, I don't worry. I know he's processing.
My troubled child only fills in his study guides, then doesn't study. He complained that he's failing my class because the tests are too hard. I said he should try taking notes. He said no, that it all comes on his study guide. I can't argue that point...but when I asked if he studies once he fills in the study guide, he said no. Well, gee...no wonder my tests are too hard!!!
I'm so afraid of what will come of him. When I see violence from his neighborhood in the news, I read it while holding my breath.
I know I can't save him. I went to the vice principal...numerous times...and she told me, "The teacher shouldn't put out more effort than the student." And so I stopped. I let him in on that. I told him it was up to him to decide to save himself, because I was working too hard, and he was doing nothing.
But why do I feel like a failure?
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
My temper tantrum ended. It's safe to look again.
So, co-curriculars for the 7th and 8th graders at school changed this year. They go to drama, art, P.E., and Spanish every day for one quarter each. I had no textbook, and so I bought a book on the history of theatre and wrote my own guide. I give the kids notes, then I have them perform in the style they learned. We also pop in some theatre games and exercises.
This being the end of the third quarter (just Mardi Gras week, which is a holiday next week!, followed by one regular week, a dead week, and exams), I've done almost everything three times.
Today was one of my favorite lessons...I finished giving them the notes for the quarter so we can just sort of play the rest of the quarter until they take their final, then I show them a music video.
The song is "Love Me Dead," and it's by a group called "Ludo." Interestingly enough, they also have a song called, "Lake Pontchartrain." This makes me smile.
I grew very fond of "LMD" over the summer, even though it sounds like it belongs in a musical. I hate musicals. I think that's because I can't sing or dance, and therefore was never able to participate in them. Plus, I'm a creative person with an overactive imagination and all, but the Suspension of Disbelief just shuts off when I see choreographed moments interrupt the natural flow of things.
Anyway, digression over.
After 1st quarter started, Mark found the video for the song, and I fell in love with it. Why? First of all, the singer kind of reminds me of Josh from the Nicholls Players. Second, it shows EVERYTHING (for the most part, just go with that) that I teach throughout drama history. I show the video once, all the way through, without discussion. I ask the kids what they saw that they learned about. They instantly pick up crude humor, Greek masks, and stage combat. Then I show it again, setting it up with running themes, such as costumes and props, and pause it 25 or 26 times to point out different theatre styles. Then, I show it to them a third time, no interruptions. Kids from first quarter still talk about it.
Today was that day in class, and so I was pretty happy. Not only that, but they are the first class to get this far this early in the quarter. God, I love 8th graders more than 7th graders!!! What a difference one year makes! Also, I only teach 1st and last periods on Tuesdays (making up for it with no breaks on Thursdays) and had a doctor's appointment with the orthopedist (muscular strains/sprains confirmed, physical therapy prescribed) today, so I left before lunch and missed teaching last period. Teaching only drama once a day? AWESOME!
While I was a little over halfway through the second viewing, one of my students interrupted me with, "How do teachers think?" I asked what he meant. He said, "I would NEVER have watched this and thought of any of that. But teachers always find things like this." I laughed. I told him I watched the video about 10-15 times, minimum, to find what I found, and had to back it up, move almost frame by frame, etc., to find it all. And, each time I watch it, I find a new subtle thing. I found one today. It wasn't anything theatre-related, but it was funny.
So, for your viewing pleasure, here it is:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SCU1JYmGxcA
This being the end of the third quarter (just Mardi Gras week, which is a holiday next week!, followed by one regular week, a dead week, and exams), I've done almost everything three times.
Today was one of my favorite lessons...I finished giving them the notes for the quarter so we can just sort of play the rest of the quarter until they take their final, then I show them a music video.
The song is "Love Me Dead," and it's by a group called "Ludo." Interestingly enough, they also have a song called, "Lake Pontchartrain." This makes me smile.
I grew very fond of "LMD" over the summer, even though it sounds like it belongs in a musical. I hate musicals. I think that's because I can't sing or dance, and therefore was never able to participate in them. Plus, I'm a creative person with an overactive imagination and all, but the Suspension of Disbelief just shuts off when I see choreographed moments interrupt the natural flow of things.
Anyway, digression over.
After 1st quarter started, Mark found the video for the song, and I fell in love with it. Why? First of all, the singer kind of reminds me of Josh from the Nicholls Players. Second, it shows EVERYTHING (for the most part, just go with that) that I teach throughout drama history. I show the video once, all the way through, without discussion. I ask the kids what they saw that they learned about. They instantly pick up crude humor, Greek masks, and stage combat. Then I show it again, setting it up with running themes, such as costumes and props, and pause it 25 or 26 times to point out different theatre styles. Then, I show it to them a third time, no interruptions. Kids from first quarter still talk about it.
Today was that day in class, and so I was pretty happy. Not only that, but they are the first class to get this far this early in the quarter. God, I love 8th graders more than 7th graders!!! What a difference one year makes! Also, I only teach 1st and last periods on Tuesdays (making up for it with no breaks on Thursdays) and had a doctor's appointment with the orthopedist (muscular strains/sprains confirmed, physical therapy prescribed) today, so I left before lunch and missed teaching last period. Teaching only drama once a day? AWESOME!
While I was a little over halfway through the second viewing, one of my students interrupted me with, "How do teachers think?" I asked what he meant. He said, "I would NEVER have watched this and thought of any of that. But teachers always find things like this." I laughed. I told him I watched the video about 10-15 times, minimum, to find what I found, and had to back it up, move almost frame by frame, etc., to find it all. And, each time I watch it, I find a new subtle thing. I found one today. It wasn't anything theatre-related, but it was funny.
So, for your viewing pleasure, here it is:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SCU1JYmGxcA
Thursday, January 08, 2009
Did I fall into Bizarro World this week?
So, I teach in a school for kids with learning differences -- dyslexia, ADHD, and Asperger's are our biggest draws. I tend to forget that some of them are socially inept. They seem really normal until we take them in public, or until days where something really bizarre happens. Don't get me wrong. I love them. But social skills are not their strong points.
This week has been ripe with such days... Make sure you read all the way through. The second story is way better than the first.
Tale the first: Sticky Buns
A few months ago, a former student came to my classroom and said he had a little tiny present for me. Every year, he brings me a Christmas present still. He's a nice boy. A little while later, he shows up at my door with a 2-liter of root beer. I'm not a fan of root beer, so I try clever dodging strategies. He thought it was a day where you could wear jeans to school if you brought in two 2-liter soft drinks. Well, it was, but only for the grammar school. Instead of just donating the bottles anyway, he and his friends drank one bottle, and he decided to bestow the other one on me. I was touched. Slightly weirded out, but touched. I run out of avoidance strategies, and end up stuck with the root beer. I stick it under my desk, where it stays for the next couple of months.
Fast-forward to the other day, when we had to rearrange my classroom to make room for this massive AV closet they brought for the 12" flat screen. I notice that I bumped my big stack of Scholastic Book Order catalogs under my desk, which knocked the root beer over. I straightened the stack, then pushed them further back, and put the root beer right next to it. Why? Because I didn't want kids fooling with it.
Tuesday afternoon, I teach last period down the hall. I return to my room, only to discover that Terry, the teacher using my room at that time, left a note on my desk (name changed to protect the guilty):
Aimée --
Bob "accidentally" knocked over your 2-liter of root beer. I told him he has to bring you a new one tomorrow.
Terry
I walk to the front of my desk, see no spots on the ground, shrug, find the bottle in the trash (which, by the way, looked like it was squeezed by Andre the Giant and has an unscrewed cap. Interesting. Not being a fan of root beer, I have never opened it. I kept it at school so that the next time there was a 2-liter collection, I could bring it to the donations. "Oh, well," I think. "At least I no longer have to worry about the root beer."
Now, I have a very wide desk. To get the bottle and "accidentally" trip on it requires you to "sweep the leg!" under my desk and kick it out.
I sit at my desk and discover that I'm sticking to it. Then I notice that my butt feels damp. I look around, and my purse, the shoes I was originally wearing until I walked to the store and changed into flip flops but forgot to change back into, my candy jar, the arms of my chair, the legs of my chair, the charger for my laptop, and the seat and back of my chair are coated in sticky goodness.
And now I seethe.
I took Germ-X and Kleenex and did my best to remove the stickiness for now. I then filled out a write-up form with a VERY wordy yet detailed explanation, attach a recess detention to it, and wait.
Bernie comes in to talk to Jenn and me, and I pushed back in my chair a little bit to pick up a pen I dropped. I reach under my desk to pull myself closer to the desk again, and what do I discover, Wet, sticky, brown finger tips. I scream, "ROOOOOOOOOOOOOT BEEEEEEEEEEERRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" in anger, then rant about how Terry must have run away scared, haha. I'm kidding, of course, and I'm not mad at him, but I am mad at Bob and the situation.
The next morning, Bernie starts baiting Terry with tales of my wrath over the situation. Meek little Terry, who is an easy blusher, comes in and stammers an apology as I'm heading to my off-period and Bernie teaches in my room. Bernie is loving every second of this. I manage to convey my non-Terry directed anger to Terry, and figure out that Bernie has scared him. Am I that intimidating? Or is Bernie that good at lying?
Tale the second: "I Have a Cat. His Name is Bony."
As if the root beer explosion isn't crazy enough, I get pushed to the limits this morning.
We have a kid with some communication difficulties and some form of autism spectrum. He's very bright, but he can be hard to understand. He adores me....he's the one who so fiercely defended me against the kid who made lewd remarks about me and attempted to grab my rear earlier in the year. Anyway, I was recoding some grades on my computer when "Mickey" starts rambling to me. I'm trying to concentrate on not screwing up grades, and I'm half listening. All I hear is, "I have a cat. His name is Bony. Want to see why his name is Bony?"
Expecting to have him shove a wrinkly photo of a skinny kitty cat in my face, I say, "Sure." He knows I love cats. He asks me about my pictures of my cats on my desk (What? I don't have kids. I have cats.). I figure he's got a picture of his.
Mickey says, "Look. It's on the desk." I look up to find him pointing at a desk with a Ziploc freezer bag on it. "Where?" I say. No photos are on the desk. "In the bag," he says.
I look closer and am horrified to discover that Bony the cat IS, in fact, rather aptly named. Bony the cat is a decomposing bag of fur and bones. I decide now would be a good time to freak out on the kid.
"WHY DO YOU HAVE THAT!?!?!?!??!?!"
"For science class."
"DOES YOUR TEACHER KNOW YOU HAVE THAT?!?!??!?!??!?!"
"Yeah. I asked her."
There's only one "her" who teaches 8th grade science: my friend, Kristin. Kristin, who only eats organic food and cruelty-free meat. Kristin, who planned a mock protest in front of my room when I wore my Cruella De Vil costume at Halloween. Kristin, who does not believe in dissecting animals and took a "C" in high school biology because she refused to dissect. Kristin, who takes in foster animals. Kristin, who is an environmentalist. Kristin, the closest thing I've found to a real-live member of PETA. This story doesn't add up.
"I seriously doubt that Ms. O would want you to bring that to her class. ARE YOU SURE that she said yes and ARE YOU SURE that you asked her about it?????????"
"Yes. We're studying about mammals and bones and teeth and I told her I have this and she said I could bring him."
At this point, Jenn steps in and suggests he put it away, as I'm bordering on hysterics and absolute disgust. Kristin was in her off-period in the teachers' lounge. I march in there, and apparently have one awesome expression on my face, because Bernie is in there and greets me with, "Hello. Are you okay?" and a concerned expression. I point at Kristin and say, "I have an important head's up for you. Did you by any chance give Mickey permission to bring a DECOMPOSING CAT IN A ZIPLOC BAG TO SCHOOL TODAY!?!?!?!?!?!??!?!?!?"
Now it's her turn to look ill. "NO! Why would you think I would do that?"
"Well, maybe because DECOMP ZIPLOC CAT IS SITTING ON A DESK IN MY CLASSROOM!!!!!!!"
Poor Terry was sleeping on the couch in there, and he woke up. He's as red as the couch, Bernie is practically crying, and they are laughing up a storm. Brendan is there at some point during my freak-out episode, and all three are rolling. Physically rolling, in Terry's case. Kristin and I are near nausea, both yelling and dumb-founded.
Apparently, during class, while they were, yes, learning about mammals and their teeth and bones, and said he had a skull at home, could he bring it. Kristin asked what kind. He said a cat skull. She said she guessed he could.
What he failed to mention was that said cat skull was still attached to the cat's other bones....and its fur...and resided in a Ziploc freezer bag.
Bernie kindly ran interference for us and convinced Mickey to put Bony in his locker for the rest of the day.
I went to Guidance and said, "I need a Guidance Counselor for myself, STAT!" Candice looked up and laughed and asked what was wrong. I told her my tale, and she said, "Oh yeah, he's bringing it for science class." Apparently, he brought it in Guidance and showed it to her while she was meeting with a parent and a student and couldn't really deal with it at the time. She said he has had it for a few years and found it outside. EW EW EW EW EW EW EW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Add these parents to my "List of people I want to punch." They're number 14, correct?
This week has been ripe with such days... Make sure you read all the way through. The second story is way better than the first.
Tale the first: Sticky Buns
A few months ago, a former student came to my classroom and said he had a little tiny present for me. Every year, he brings me a Christmas present still. He's a nice boy. A little while later, he shows up at my door with a 2-liter of root beer. I'm not a fan of root beer, so I try clever dodging strategies. He thought it was a day where you could wear jeans to school if you brought in two 2-liter soft drinks. Well, it was, but only for the grammar school. Instead of just donating the bottles anyway, he and his friends drank one bottle, and he decided to bestow the other one on me. I was touched. Slightly weirded out, but touched. I run out of avoidance strategies, and end up stuck with the root beer. I stick it under my desk, where it stays for the next couple of months.
Fast-forward to the other day, when we had to rearrange my classroom to make room for this massive AV closet they brought for the 12" flat screen. I notice that I bumped my big stack of Scholastic Book Order catalogs under my desk, which knocked the root beer over. I straightened the stack, then pushed them further back, and put the root beer right next to it. Why? Because I didn't want kids fooling with it.
Tuesday afternoon, I teach last period down the hall. I return to my room, only to discover that Terry, the teacher using my room at that time, left a note on my desk (name changed to protect the guilty):
Aimée --
Bob "accidentally" knocked over your 2-liter of root beer. I told him he has to bring you a new one tomorrow.
Terry
I walk to the front of my desk, see no spots on the ground, shrug, find the bottle in the trash (which, by the way, looked like it was squeezed by Andre the Giant and has an unscrewed cap. Interesting. Not being a fan of root beer, I have never opened it. I kept it at school so that the next time there was a 2-liter collection, I could bring it to the donations. "Oh, well," I think. "At least I no longer have to worry about the root beer."
Now, I have a very wide desk. To get the bottle and "accidentally" trip on it requires you to "sweep the leg!" under my desk and kick it out.
I sit at my desk and discover that I'm sticking to it. Then I notice that my butt feels damp. I look around, and my purse, the shoes I was originally wearing until I walked to the store and changed into flip flops but forgot to change back into, my candy jar, the arms of my chair, the legs of my chair, the charger for my laptop, and the seat and back of my chair are coated in sticky goodness.
And now I seethe.
I took Germ-X and Kleenex and did my best to remove the stickiness for now. I then filled out a write-up form with a VERY wordy yet detailed explanation, attach a recess detention to it, and wait.
Bernie comes in to talk to Jenn and me, and I pushed back in my chair a little bit to pick up a pen I dropped. I reach under my desk to pull myself closer to the desk again, and what do I discover, Wet, sticky, brown finger tips. I scream, "ROOOOOOOOOOOOOT BEEEEEEEEEEERRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" in anger, then rant about how Terry must have run away scared, haha. I'm kidding, of course, and I'm not mad at him, but I am mad at Bob and the situation.
The next morning, Bernie starts baiting Terry with tales of my wrath over the situation. Meek little Terry, who is an easy blusher, comes in and stammers an apology as I'm heading to my off-period and Bernie teaches in my room. Bernie is loving every second of this. I manage to convey my non-Terry directed anger to Terry, and figure out that Bernie has scared him. Am I that intimidating? Or is Bernie that good at lying?
Tale the second: "I Have a Cat. His Name is Bony."
As if the root beer explosion isn't crazy enough, I get pushed to the limits this morning.
We have a kid with some communication difficulties and some form of autism spectrum. He's very bright, but he can be hard to understand. He adores me....he's the one who so fiercely defended me against the kid who made lewd remarks about me and attempted to grab my rear earlier in the year. Anyway, I was recoding some grades on my computer when "Mickey" starts rambling to me. I'm trying to concentrate on not screwing up grades, and I'm half listening. All I hear is, "I have a cat. His name is Bony. Want to see why his name is Bony?"
Expecting to have him shove a wrinkly photo of a skinny kitty cat in my face, I say, "Sure." He knows I love cats. He asks me about my pictures of my cats on my desk (What? I don't have kids. I have cats.). I figure he's got a picture of his.
Mickey says, "Look. It's on the desk." I look up to find him pointing at a desk with a Ziploc freezer bag on it. "Where?" I say. No photos are on the desk. "In the bag," he says.
I look closer and am horrified to discover that Bony the cat IS, in fact, rather aptly named. Bony the cat is a decomposing bag of fur and bones. I decide now would be a good time to freak out on the kid.
"WHY DO YOU HAVE THAT!?!?!?!??!?!"
"For science class."
"DOES YOUR TEACHER KNOW YOU HAVE THAT?!?!??!?!??!?!"
"Yeah. I asked her."
There's only one "her" who teaches 8th grade science: my friend, Kristin. Kristin, who only eats organic food and cruelty-free meat. Kristin, who planned a mock protest in front of my room when I wore my Cruella De Vil costume at Halloween. Kristin, who does not believe in dissecting animals and took a "C" in high school biology because she refused to dissect. Kristin, who takes in foster animals. Kristin, who is an environmentalist. Kristin, the closest thing I've found to a real-live member of PETA. This story doesn't add up.
"I seriously doubt that Ms. O would want you to bring that to her class. ARE YOU SURE that she said yes and ARE YOU SURE that you asked her about it?????????"
"Yes. We're studying about mammals and bones and teeth and I told her I have this and she said I could bring him."
At this point, Jenn steps in and suggests he put it away, as I'm bordering on hysterics and absolute disgust. Kristin was in her off-period in the teachers' lounge. I march in there, and apparently have one awesome expression on my face, because Bernie is in there and greets me with, "Hello. Are you okay?" and a concerned expression. I point at Kristin and say, "I have an important head's up for you. Did you by any chance give Mickey permission to bring a DECOMPOSING CAT IN A ZIPLOC BAG TO SCHOOL TODAY!?!?!?!?!?!??!?!?!?"
Now it's her turn to look ill. "NO! Why would you think I would do that?"
"Well, maybe because DECOMP ZIPLOC CAT IS SITTING ON A DESK IN MY CLASSROOM!!!!!!!"
Poor Terry was sleeping on the couch in there, and he woke up. He's as red as the couch, Bernie is practically crying, and they are laughing up a storm. Brendan is there at some point during my freak-out episode, and all three are rolling. Physically rolling, in Terry's case. Kristin and I are near nausea, both yelling and dumb-founded.
Apparently, during class, while they were, yes, learning about mammals and their teeth and bones, and said he had a skull at home, could he bring it. Kristin asked what kind. He said a cat skull. She said she guessed he could.
What he failed to mention was that said cat skull was still attached to the cat's other bones....and its fur...and resided in a Ziploc freezer bag.
Bernie kindly ran interference for us and convinced Mickey to put Bony in his locker for the rest of the day.
I went to Guidance and said, "I need a Guidance Counselor for myself, STAT!" Candice looked up and laughed and asked what was wrong. I told her my tale, and she said, "Oh yeah, he's bringing it for science class." Apparently, he brought it in Guidance and showed it to her while she was meeting with a parent and a student and couldn't really deal with it at the time. She said he has had it for a few years and found it outside. EW EW EW EW EW EW EW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Add these parents to my "List of people I want to punch." They're number 14, correct?
Friday, April 25, 2008
Oh, the huge manatee!
Every year, due to my former past as a Travel Camp Unit Head (Tsofim Teen Travel, represent!), I am in charge of coordinating our 7th and 8th grade class trip. The trip destinations alternate: one year it's a science trip, the next it's a social studies trip.
The year of Katrina, we were supposed to go to Tampa to swim with the manatees. However, after the storm took most peoples' life savings away, we decided to cancel that trip and plan one to a sleepaway camp in Mentone, Ala. It was a relaxing, fun, at. They just learn "differently;" in other words, they don't do well in a lecture hall environment. Only like 2% of the population can do that well, anyway, so I don't know why my students are considered different learners.
Anyway, we never tell people that's what our kids are, because there are so many stigmas attached to it. Every so often, I'll hear from even close friends and family members, "Well, maybe that would be okay for YOUR students, but..." Sigh. However, once in a while, you have to pull the card. The majority of the kids have ADHD. Do you want to take a flight with 28 kids with ADHD who aren't able to sit by their 11 chaperons (5 teachers and 6 parents, only two and a half of whom were any use to us as the rest obviously were "on vacation.")? No. I know I certainly don't. I tried calling the airline. First, there is no local desk number for Southwest. You have to call national. We have a teacher who is deathly allergic to nuts, to the point where she can't even be in the recycled air environment of passengers on a plane eating nuts. I had to call the airline to let them know so that an alternative snack could be served. So if you're ever on a Southwest flight and get pretzels, that's probably why. The lady with whom I spoke was courteous and helpful, but she said it probably couldn't be arranged, check in at the airport anyway and see.
I went to the check-in and waited forever and asked, but the lady was a little rude. I waited until we got to the gate (after accidentally putting my boarding pass through the X-ray machine....you're supposed to hold it, and they call out "boarding pass check!" and point out the bucket you say it's in and put you in the clear "holding cell" behind the checkers, and you can't leave until they get the pass and check you, and it's HIGHLY embarrassing, especially when you're with 7th and 8th graders and one parents who refuses to accept you as the trip leader or an authority figure or even a human being, like when she calls you nit-picky for correcting her in the spelling of your name (which then also means she's mispronouncing it) in e-mails...and that's the least of her offenses...
In my defense, I was helping a student who is a little spacey, and in my frustration, I put down the boarding pass without realizing it.
Anyway, I asked, rather politely, the guy at the gate if we could possibly seat early....taking the back of the plane, in order to keep our kids together. I played the card. He sad no. I told him our our kids were special needs, and it was really in everyone's best interest if we were together. He said no. I said, "You guys aren't a very group friendly airline, are you?" The guy's reply? "No, we're not. We never have been, and we never will be. Use a different airline next time." GRRRRRRRRRRRRRR. I hope the kids annoyed the passengers. We didn't choose the airline, by the way. We book through a travel agency for students. WHY they put us on Southwest, I'll never know.
We landed in Tampa around 2-ish their time, grabbed lunch in the airport (SO EXPENSIVE), and headed out to the hotel. It was very nice for the type of trip we were on. I recommend the Spring Hill Inn and Suites in Tampa if you ever go there.
The first activity was a sort of orientation. Our course leaders went over rules, expectations, procedures, etc. with the kids, then launched into a discussion of what we would experience and the types of animals we would meet. She talked about animals and their adaptations, then called Mylan to the front. She dressed him as a bird, sort of. She chose him because he was mouthing off a bit, and it was perfect, because it kind of put him in his place. Chris, our guide, proceeded to call him "Bird Man" for the rest of the trip. She put a camo-print cloth on the top of his body to talk about how birds can camouflage themselves as an adaptation. Then she gave him some colorful cloth wings that went on like sleeves and stretched across his body. She added a rainbow feather boa to be his plumage to attract mates. Then she wrapped yellow poster boards around his legs and put flippers on his feet to give him bird legs and feet. She put a paper beak on him followed by sunglasses with large, forward-facing eyes to denote that he was a predatory bird. He was so mad....and everyone took tons of pictures. I later printed one out and hung it in my classroom.
We went to International Mall near the hotel and got $10 vouchers for meals at Earl of Sandwich. I was excited by the food at this place. Most of the adults were. But the kids really shut down. None of the food was kid-friendly. They had a grilled cheese, but it was Swiss, brie, and bleu cheeses. What kid would want that??? I should add that all of our meals are included in the trip price, and kids are told to not bring too much money with them, as they won't need it. So it's really crappy when a parent has paid for a meal that a kid can't enjoy, and then the kid has to spend his or her own money for a different meal in the food court. Last year, if we had a food court meal, you had a voucher for one of several combos at one of several places in the food court.
For the record, I loved my food from there. I just think they should have done something a little more kid-friendly.
We had an early curfew that night, as we had a 4:15 a.m. wake-up call. And no, that's not a typo! We had to get up, eat breakfast, get on a bus, and ride more than an hour away to Crystal Springs to swim with the manatees! They popped "Zeus and Roxanne" in the DVD player. It's a predictable Gutenberg-as-heartthrob(?)-vehicle for children involving a dog and a dolphin who are best friends. Not entirely age appropriate, but it did have a nice side-effect: lulling the kids to sleep on the bus.
Fortunately and unfortunately, there was a ridiculous cold snap going on that week. It was in the 50s, which meant we would be cold. Fortunately, the manatees would also be cold and would have come into the Springs, where the water is allegedly 72 degrees year-round, for warmth. We stopped at American Pro Dive, where we were fitted with wet suits. They were slightly damp and cold. Germophobe that I am, I was having trouble enough getting the blasted thing on, and Chris said, "There are two types of divers in the world: those who pee in their wet suits and those who lie and say they didn't." UGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! For the record, Ol' Ironbladder here honestly did not pee. She would admit it if she did, and kind of regrets the fact that she didn't.
We boarded three pontoon boats (A Christian school from California with 15 people....and little kids...shared a bus with us, but that's a longer, angrier story...) and went out in search of manatees. We found a spot and got it with our snorkels, masks, and waterproof cameras. Here I am:
It took me a while....but then...I finally got to see one!! It was such an amazing event. The hour and a half that we snorkeled flew by. The manatees swim right up to you. They're so gentle and beautiful. After I found the first one, it was very easy to find more. The rule is, you can't go after them or anything like that, but if they come up to you, you can touch them. Manatees love to be scratched under their armpits, apparently. If you do that, they roll onto their backs for belly rubs. I love them so much!
I took a rest with some of the kids by standing on a rock. All of a sudden, I got knocked off the rock and started to get angry at whatever jerky kid had done that. Then I looked and saw that I had just been nuzzled by a huge manatee! My slight rage instantly turned into a melted heart.
I was snorkeling along, and one of the manatees they are monitoring as he recovers from a boat injury swam under me. He has a buoy attached to his tail so they can find him easily to check on him. He did something weird and tangled me up in his line. One of the dive guys had to set me free. If I wasn't wearing flippers, I could have done it myself. Those flippers make almost everything impossible.
Towards the end of our amazing swim, I thought I was by myself. I was snorkeling along at a safe distance, tracking a manatee who was moseying along the bottom of the springs, and I felt something under my legs. Ecstatic that another manatee had found me, I slowly turned over, grinning like an idiot, only to discover one of my students crossed paths with me, and his legs ran into mine. It should be noted that he is a bigger kid; I was mistaken for a student, while he was mistaken for a teacher, hahahah. . . however, my comment to him had nothing to do with his size and everything to do with the fact that I didn't know he was out there and I didn't expect anything to brush under my legs. I lifted my head, took out my snorkel, and said, "Oh, that's you, Patrick! I thought you were a manatee!" Well, of course, he takes that to be an insult on his size. Thank God he's an awesome kid who wouldn't take it personally. "Ms. M., if you had reached over and started petting me, I would have been back on that boat so fast, you wouldn't have known WHAT happened!" he replied. It's really hard to snorkel and laugh hysterically at the same time.
At one point, I found a mom and baby manatee pair. The baby was so friendly, and he and I played together for a while. He kept getting face-to-face with me, and I fell in love with him. I was really sad when we parted ways. I wish I could have brought him home. I know that's not possible, but don't take that dream from me, okay?
Here's my little buddy:
In addition to the manatees and little fish swimming around, there were big huge scary tarpons. They're pretty intimidating, even though they won't bother you. I'd never seen a live one before. I've seen plenty of dead ones at the Tarpon Rodeo in Grand Isle, but that's all.
Unfortunately, our time was up. When we got out of the water and back on the pontoon boats, we froze. They put tarps down to block the wind, and we had to take off the wetsuits immediately. The captain passed around a thermos of hot chocolate, and we each had a cup. Then, then engine died. We ended up stuck on a rocky reef and had to wait for another boat to come rescue us. They lashed the boats together, and we continued our slow, freezing journey back to the dock. We boarded our bus and drove to Rainbow River, where we had a picnic lunch on the backs of the river. After lunch, we fought with our wet wet suits....which are the DEVIL, by the way... and got on another set of pontoon boats to head upstream. It had warmed up some, but it was still pretty chilly. I let Torian, one of my students, borrow my school fleece since she decided she didn't want to get back in the water. About a mile and half or so up the gorgeous, crystal clear river, we dropped anchor and reentered the water. Once again, it was warmer in the water than out. We floated/snorkeled back down stream to the docks. We found turtles, fossils, shells, wild birds, and fish, including gars. We could see some of the natural springs and some underwater caves, too. I've never seen such clear water before. All I get to see is the muddy Mississippi and the nasty Lake Pontchartrain. And the Gulf of Mexico ain't too clear, either, especially in Grand Isle!
We went to Homosassa State Park, which is a zoo for indigenous Floridian animals. There are two animals there who aren't indigenous, though: a movie star hippo named Lu, who is the only remaining animal from the days when the zoo was just a regular zoo, and flamingos, which migrated to Florida from Cuba, etc. It was pretty cool, but when you're used to the Audubon Zoo here in New Orleans, most zoos just don't impress you.
After dinner at a former summer camp, we went to the hotel to crash. Or should have.
After everyone was settled in, I got in the shower. As program leader, I am rewarded with a private room. I heard someone knock on my door, and, as I was washing my hair, decided that it wouldn't be prudent to answer the door in a towel, as a student or parent could be knocking. Try again later, buddy. Then I heard my room phone ring. Sorry, guys. I'm full of shampoo and refuse to jump out the shower. I got out, dried myself off, and heard my cell phone ring. It was another teacher. Apparently, one of our rooms had the cops called on it. EXPLOSION!!!!!!!!!!!!
I have escorted two Houston trips, 8 Tsofim trips around the country, the Mentone trip, and the D.C. trip. I've had eight kids crammed in one hotel room. And NEVER have I had so much as a noise violation!!!! Two of the teachers have done 7 trips each, and have never had that problem. And our three course leaders, each having had these jobs for 5 or 6 years, have never had this problem, and they do it year-round!!
I was livid. I couldn't see straight. And, they are damned lucky I didn't have my own car, because all of their butts would have been at the airport if I had.
Trip policy is that if you act up, you get sent home. But, with four kids in a room with a closed door, you can't know who is guilty and who is not. So no one went home. There were write-ups, detentions, and week-long suspensions handed out after returning to school, so they did get repercussions, but they were delayed.
What went wrong? Well, by law, we can't have an adult in the room with the kids. The hotel didn't block off rooms. We were scattered around on three different floors. There is SUPPOSED to be night security. Our course leaders said they'd patrol the halls until security arrived. Well, they didn't. Exhausted after our long day, we were all trying to get ready for bed, and thought the halls were covered, since that's what we were told. Security was half an hour late, the course leaders weren't in the halls, and things got out of hand.
Thankfully, it was our last night in that hotel. The next morning, we packed our stuff, checked out, and went to Fort De Soto State Park. We went to one of the beaches, which was freezing cold, and got not much more than ankle deep in the water. The kids found lots of great specimens, and the people from the Museum of Science and Industry Habitats Program gave a mini-lecture on what they found. We went to a park shelter, where the kids were put into groups and given spiny dog sharks to dissect. I couldn't watch. After that, we went to a different beach and played in the sand a little. We met up with the other school and kayaked through an estuary lined with mangroves. I was paired with one of the Joshes, who is a really funny kid. We discussed "Rob and Big," as well as other similar stupid TV that we love. We kayaked about two miles. At one point, when we were kayaking upstream, we stopped moving. Josh had never kayaked before, and I had done it twice in Bayou St. John, right outside of school, but it's much calmer water. We suddenly stopped moving. I said, "Oh, what the hell," then realized what I had done. At least that's all I said. Luckily, it was the right kid to say it to. I apologized, and he said it was okay, he's said a lot worse, haha. Then he talked about different teachers and the fact that they were either easy to picture cursing or impossible to picture cursing. Only one teacher did he deem impossible: Penny. I laughed and said I'd heard it once, and it almost made me pass out. They joke that Penny has no pulse. She's phenomenal...so calm, so quiet, so amazing....and it takes a lot to ruffle her feathers. Josh claimed he would probably just die on the spot if he ever heard her curse.
Remember that anecdote.
Meanwhile, Coach Isaac is in a boat with Taylor C., who is being a real jerk in the boat. Coach isn't a swimmer and was nervous about kayaking. We each paired up with a kid who would need an adult, and the trustworthy kids were also paired up to prevent tipping, fights, and immature behaviors. Well, another kid who has kayaking experience but isn't very well-behaved, Austin, got put in charge of another kayak with Mario based on his experience level. Both Taylor and Austin made scary rides for their partners.Coach offered to help Mario by pulling over and switching partners. Something happened where Austin really scared Mario, then Taylor splashed him, and Mario took off down the highway, cursing and yelling. Coach had to chase him down. Meanwhile, teacher Mary with passenger Max, and Josh and I came upon Austin and Taylor, two empty kayaks, and no Coach or Mario. We thought someone had drowned or something and were internally freaking out. Then we heard what happened, and the course leaders sent us ahead while they dealt with the problem. That was nice of them. Again, no one went home because Mario WANTED to go home and was acting out to be sent home, so Austin and Taylor couldn't be sent home, either, which I thought was lame. Get rid of all of them. Each ended up with a week-long suspension when we came home. They also had to spend the next two activities sitting out with Marie, another teacher.
We had another picnic lunch, then went to Mote Marine Lab. We saw a giant preserved squid, some fish, some sharks, and typical aquarium type stuff. Then we went to a Spineless Sea lecture, where kids identified and classified echinoderms, arthropods, mollusks, and more. They were informed (rather, reminded, as they'd already learned it in school), that squids and octopi are considered mollusks, which is confusing, as mollusks must have shells to be considered mollusks. The shell, or remnants of a shell, of a mollusk is internal. So they were put in groups again and asked to dissect small squids. They found the shell, called the pen, dipped it in the squid ink, and were asked to write their initials on paper. They loved that part!!
During the dissection, Ashely started giggling. She turned around and asked me if I'd heard about what happened to Penny. I hadn't, and Ashley could barely get it out. She shared a kayak with Penny earlier that day. Neither had done it before. Remember the anecdote I told you to remember? Well, here's what happened in Ashley's words: "Well, you know how Mrs. S. is so calm and intelligent and stuff? Me and her were in the kayak together, and we ran into one of those bush things {mangroves} and it cut her face up and she said, 'OH, SHIT!' She told me after I stopped laughing, 'That's between you and me, Ashley.' So of course everyone knows now, because that's too funny to keep to myself!" Josh was at the table with her, turned around, and said, "Mrs. M. ... that's exactly what we talked about!!! We were probably talking about it as it was happening!" He couldn't stop laughing. I had noticed the cuts on Penny's forehead and cheek, as well as her arms, which were also bruised, but didn't want to ask her about it. The way Ashley told the story was so funny, I couldn't control my laughter. We got shushed. Oops.
After that, Patrick told Marie, "Mrs. B., have you noticed that everything we've done on this trip ties in with what we learned in science this year?" "Yes, Patrick, that's kind of the point!"
After dinner at the Old Salty Dog restaurant, where I had the biggest chicken sandwich in the world, we went to Lido Beach, where we walked, played around, and watched a beautiful sunset. Then we went to an amazing ice cream place. I had English toffee ice cream in a waffle cone...absolutely amazing!!!!
Did you see the bun under the chicken? It was DWARFED. I had to cut the breast in several small pieces and left more than half of it behind on my plate!
We checked into the Sarasota Hampton Inn that night, and there was not a peep reported to us by the security guards. We'd basically threatened them all with expulsion if anything happened that night. We saw the course leaders weren't planning on staying in the halls, so we all plopped on the ground (we got rooms all on one floor this time) and kept watch until the security guards showed up 40 minutes late.
Next morning, we went to Myakka State Park, walked through a forest of palms and elms, and took a canopy walk. It was gorgeous. We climbed a tower 76 feet up to a platform and had a breathtaking view of the park.
From there, we went to Myakka Lake, where we had a slow airboat ride to look for alligators. It was really cold, so we didn't see as many as we would have liked, but we did see some. The tour guide had a low, monotone voice, and the kids, exhausted, all passed out.
After that, we headed back to Tampa. We got lunch at a few fast food places that were all in a row along the way. In Tampa, we went to the Florida Aquarium, which was much smaller than our Aquarium of the Americas, but had nicer displays. I got to see a penguin show!!! I loved them almost as much as I loved the manatees.
We had dinner (rather, everyone but me had dinner) at the Golden Corral. After a terrible buffet experience involving food poisoning and me breaking my 13-year streak of not vomiting (I beat Seinfeld!!!), I don't do buffet. Then we went to the airport, where I got a fruit cup and croissant from Starbucks for dinner. After an uneventful flight back to New Orleans, I was home. I slept until 2 p.m. the next day. That's just awful!
I'd rank swimming with the manatees among my top 5 life experiences. Hm...that's an interesting blog idea....
The year of Katrina, we were supposed to go to Tampa to swim with the manatees. However, after the storm took most peoples' life savings away, we decided to cancel that trip and plan one to a sleepaway camp in Mentone, Ala. It was a relaxing, fun, at. They just learn "differently;" in other words, they don't do well in a lecture hall environment. Only like 2% of the population can do that well, anyway, so I don't know why my students are considered different learners.
Anyway, we never tell people that's what our kids are, because there are so many stigmas attached to it. Every so often, I'll hear from even close friends and family members, "Well, maybe that would be okay for YOUR students, but..." Sigh. However, once in a while, you have to pull the card. The majority of the kids have ADHD. Do you want to take a flight with 28 kids with ADHD who aren't able to sit by their 11 chaperons (5 teachers and 6 parents, only two and a half of whom were any use to us as the rest obviously were "on vacation.")? No. I know I certainly don't. I tried calling the airline. First, there is no local desk number for Southwest. You have to call national. We have a teacher who is deathly allergic to nuts, to the point where she can't even be in the recycled air environment of passengers on a plane eating nuts. I had to call the airline to let them know so that an alternative snack could be served. So if you're ever on a Southwest flight and get pretzels, that's probably why. The lady with whom I spoke was courteous and helpful, but she said it probably couldn't be arranged, check in at the airport anyway and see.
I went to the check-in and waited forever and asked, but the lady was a little rude. I waited until we got to the gate (after accidentally putting my boarding pass through the X-ray machine....you're supposed to hold it, and they call out "boarding pass check!" and point out the bucket you say it's in and put you in the clear "holding cell" behind the checkers, and you can't leave until they get the pass and check you, and it's HIGHLY embarrassing, especially when you're with 7th and 8th graders and one parents who refuses to accept you as the trip leader or an authority figure or even a human being, like when she calls you nit-picky for correcting her in the spelling of your name (which then also means she's mispronouncing it) in e-mails...and that's the least of her offenses...
In my defense, I was helping a student who is a little spacey, and in my frustration, I put down the boarding pass without realizing it.
Anyway, I asked, rather politely, the guy at the gate if we could possibly seat early....taking the back of the plane, in order to keep our kids together. I played the card. He sad no. I told him our our kids were special needs, and it was really in everyone's best interest if we were together. He said no. I said, "You guys aren't a very group friendly airline, are you?" The guy's reply? "No, we're not. We never have been, and we never will be. Use a different airline next time." GRRRRRRRRRRRRRR. I hope the kids annoyed the passengers. We didn't choose the airline, by the way. We book through a travel agency for students. WHY they put us on Southwest, I'll never know.
We landed in Tampa around 2-ish their time, grabbed lunch in the airport (SO EXPENSIVE), and headed out to the hotel. It was very nice for the type of trip we were on. I recommend the Spring Hill Inn and Suites in Tampa if you ever go there.
The first activity was a sort of orientation. Our course leaders went over rules, expectations, procedures, etc. with the kids, then launched into a discussion of what we would experience and the types of animals we would meet. She talked about animals and their adaptations, then called Mylan to the front. She dressed him as a bird, sort of. She chose him because he was mouthing off a bit, and it was perfect, because it kind of put him in his place. Chris, our guide, proceeded to call him "Bird Man" for the rest of the trip. She put a camo-print cloth on the top of his body to talk about how birds can camouflage themselves as an adaptation. Then she gave him some colorful cloth wings that went on like sleeves and stretched across his body. She added a rainbow feather boa to be his plumage to attract mates. Then she wrapped yellow poster boards around his legs and put flippers on his feet to give him bird legs and feet. She put a paper beak on him followed by sunglasses with large, forward-facing eyes to denote that he was a predatory bird. He was so mad....and everyone took tons of pictures. I later printed one out and hung it in my classroom.
We went to International Mall near the hotel and got $10 vouchers for meals at Earl of Sandwich. I was excited by the food at this place. Most of the adults were. But the kids really shut down. None of the food was kid-friendly. They had a grilled cheese, but it was Swiss, brie, and bleu cheeses. What kid would want that??? I should add that all of our meals are included in the trip price, and kids are told to not bring too much money with them, as they won't need it. So it's really crappy when a parent has paid for a meal that a kid can't enjoy, and then the kid has to spend his or her own money for a different meal in the food court. Last year, if we had a food court meal, you had a voucher for one of several combos at one of several places in the food court.
For the record, I loved my food from there. I just think they should have done something a little more kid-friendly.
We had an early curfew that night, as we had a 4:15 a.m. wake-up call. And no, that's not a typo! We had to get up, eat breakfast, get on a bus, and ride more than an hour away to Crystal Springs to swim with the manatees! They popped "Zeus and Roxanne" in the DVD player. It's a predictable Gutenberg-as-heartthrob(?)-vehicle for children involving a dog and a dolphin who are best friends. Not entirely age appropriate, but it did have a nice side-effect: lulling the kids to sleep on the bus.
Fortunately and unfortunately, there was a ridiculous cold snap going on that week. It was in the 50s, which meant we would be cold. Fortunately, the manatees would also be cold and would have come into the Springs, where the water is allegedly 72 degrees year-round, for warmth. We stopped at American Pro Dive, where we were fitted with wet suits. They were slightly damp and cold. Germophobe that I am, I was having trouble enough getting the blasted thing on, and Chris said, "There are two types of divers in the world: those who pee in their wet suits and those who lie and say they didn't." UGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! For the record, Ol' Ironbladder here honestly did not pee. She would admit it if she did, and kind of regrets the fact that she didn't.
We boarded three pontoon boats (A Christian school from California with 15 people....and little kids...shared a bus with us, but that's a longer, angrier story...) and went out in search of manatees. We found a spot and got it with our snorkels, masks, and waterproof cameras. Here I am:
It took me a while....but then...I finally got to see one!! It was such an amazing event. The hour and a half that we snorkeled flew by. The manatees swim right up to you. They're so gentle and beautiful. After I found the first one, it was very easy to find more. The rule is, you can't go after them or anything like that, but if they come up to you, you can touch them. Manatees love to be scratched under their armpits, apparently. If you do that, they roll onto their backs for belly rubs. I love them so much!
I took a rest with some of the kids by standing on a rock. All of a sudden, I got knocked off the rock and started to get angry at whatever jerky kid had done that. Then I looked and saw that I had just been nuzzled by a huge manatee! My slight rage instantly turned into a melted heart.
I was snorkeling along, and one of the manatees they are monitoring as he recovers from a boat injury swam under me. He has a buoy attached to his tail so they can find him easily to check on him. He did something weird and tangled me up in his line. One of the dive guys had to set me free. If I wasn't wearing flippers, I could have done it myself. Those flippers make almost everything impossible.
Towards the end of our amazing swim, I thought I was by myself. I was snorkeling along at a safe distance, tracking a manatee who was moseying along the bottom of the springs, and I felt something under my legs. Ecstatic that another manatee had found me, I slowly turned over, grinning like an idiot, only to discover one of my students crossed paths with me, and his legs ran into mine. It should be noted that he is a bigger kid; I was mistaken for a student, while he was mistaken for a teacher, hahahah. . . however, my comment to him had nothing to do with his size and everything to do with the fact that I didn't know he was out there and I didn't expect anything to brush under my legs. I lifted my head, took out my snorkel, and said, "Oh, that's you, Patrick! I thought you were a manatee!" Well, of course, he takes that to be an insult on his size. Thank God he's an awesome kid who wouldn't take it personally. "Ms. M., if you had reached over and started petting me, I would have been back on that boat so fast, you wouldn't have known WHAT happened!" he replied. It's really hard to snorkel and laugh hysterically at the same time.
At one point, I found a mom and baby manatee pair. The baby was so friendly, and he and I played together for a while. He kept getting face-to-face with me, and I fell in love with him. I was really sad when we parted ways. I wish I could have brought him home. I know that's not possible, but don't take that dream from me, okay?
Here's my little buddy:
In addition to the manatees and little fish swimming around, there were big huge scary tarpons. They're pretty intimidating, even though they won't bother you. I'd never seen a live one before. I've seen plenty of dead ones at the Tarpon Rodeo in Grand Isle, but that's all.
Unfortunately, our time was up. When we got out of the water and back on the pontoon boats, we froze. They put tarps down to block the wind, and we had to take off the wetsuits immediately. The captain passed around a thermos of hot chocolate, and we each had a cup. Then, then engine died. We ended up stuck on a rocky reef and had to wait for another boat to come rescue us. They lashed the boats together, and we continued our slow, freezing journey back to the dock. We boarded our bus and drove to Rainbow River, where we had a picnic lunch on the backs of the river. After lunch, we fought with our wet wet suits....which are the DEVIL, by the way... and got on another set of pontoon boats to head upstream. It had warmed up some, but it was still pretty chilly. I let Torian, one of my students, borrow my school fleece since she decided she didn't want to get back in the water. About a mile and half or so up the gorgeous, crystal clear river, we dropped anchor and reentered the water. Once again, it was warmer in the water than out. We floated/snorkeled back down stream to the docks. We found turtles, fossils, shells, wild birds, and fish, including gars. We could see some of the natural springs and some underwater caves, too. I've never seen such clear water before. All I get to see is the muddy Mississippi and the nasty Lake Pontchartrain. And the Gulf of Mexico ain't too clear, either, especially in Grand Isle!
We went to Homosassa State Park, which is a zoo for indigenous Floridian animals. There are two animals there who aren't indigenous, though: a movie star hippo named Lu, who is the only remaining animal from the days when the zoo was just a regular zoo, and flamingos, which migrated to Florida from Cuba, etc. It was pretty cool, but when you're used to the Audubon Zoo here in New Orleans, most zoos just don't impress you.
After dinner at a former summer camp, we went to the hotel to crash. Or should have.
After everyone was settled in, I got in the shower. As program leader, I am rewarded with a private room. I heard someone knock on my door, and, as I was washing my hair, decided that it wouldn't be prudent to answer the door in a towel, as a student or parent could be knocking. Try again later, buddy. Then I heard my room phone ring. Sorry, guys. I'm full of shampoo and refuse to jump out the shower. I got out, dried myself off, and heard my cell phone ring. It was another teacher. Apparently, one of our rooms had the cops called on it. EXPLOSION!!!!!!!!!!!!
I have escorted two Houston trips, 8 Tsofim trips around the country, the Mentone trip, and the D.C. trip. I've had eight kids crammed in one hotel room. And NEVER have I had so much as a noise violation!!!! Two of the teachers have done 7 trips each, and have never had that problem. And our three course leaders, each having had these jobs for 5 or 6 years, have never had this problem, and they do it year-round!!
I was livid. I couldn't see straight. And, they are damned lucky I didn't have my own car, because all of their butts would have been at the airport if I had.
Trip policy is that if you act up, you get sent home. But, with four kids in a room with a closed door, you can't know who is guilty and who is not. So no one went home. There were write-ups, detentions, and week-long suspensions handed out after returning to school, so they did get repercussions, but they were delayed.
What went wrong? Well, by law, we can't have an adult in the room with the kids. The hotel didn't block off rooms. We were scattered around on three different floors. There is SUPPOSED to be night security. Our course leaders said they'd patrol the halls until security arrived. Well, they didn't. Exhausted after our long day, we were all trying to get ready for bed, and thought the halls were covered, since that's what we were told. Security was half an hour late, the course leaders weren't in the halls, and things got out of hand.
Thankfully, it was our last night in that hotel. The next morning, we packed our stuff, checked out, and went to Fort De Soto State Park. We went to one of the beaches, which was freezing cold, and got not much more than ankle deep in the water. The kids found lots of great specimens, and the people from the Museum of Science and Industry Habitats Program gave a mini-lecture on what they found. We went to a park shelter, where the kids were put into groups and given spiny dog sharks to dissect. I couldn't watch. After that, we went to a different beach and played in the sand a little. We met up with the other school and kayaked through an estuary lined with mangroves. I was paired with one of the Joshes, who is a really funny kid. We discussed "Rob and Big," as well as other similar stupid TV that we love. We kayaked about two miles. At one point, when we were kayaking upstream, we stopped moving. Josh had never kayaked before, and I had done it twice in Bayou St. John, right outside of school, but it's much calmer water. We suddenly stopped moving. I said, "Oh, what the hell," then realized what I had done. At least that's all I said. Luckily, it was the right kid to say it to. I apologized, and he said it was okay, he's said a lot worse, haha. Then he talked about different teachers and the fact that they were either easy to picture cursing or impossible to picture cursing. Only one teacher did he deem impossible: Penny. I laughed and said I'd heard it once, and it almost made me pass out. They joke that Penny has no pulse. She's phenomenal...so calm, so quiet, so amazing....and it takes a lot to ruffle her feathers. Josh claimed he would probably just die on the spot if he ever heard her curse.
Remember that anecdote.
Meanwhile, Coach Isaac is in a boat with Taylor C., who is being a real jerk in the boat. Coach isn't a swimmer and was nervous about kayaking. We each paired up with a kid who would need an adult, and the trustworthy kids were also paired up to prevent tipping, fights, and immature behaviors. Well, another kid who has kayaking experience but isn't very well-behaved, Austin, got put in charge of another kayak with Mario based on his experience level. Both Taylor and Austin made scary rides for their partners.Coach offered to help Mario by pulling over and switching partners. Something happened where Austin really scared Mario, then Taylor splashed him, and Mario took off down the highway, cursing and yelling. Coach had to chase him down. Meanwhile, teacher Mary with passenger Max, and Josh and I came upon Austin and Taylor, two empty kayaks, and no Coach or Mario. We thought someone had drowned or something and were internally freaking out. Then we heard what happened, and the course leaders sent us ahead while they dealt with the problem. That was nice of them. Again, no one went home because Mario WANTED to go home and was acting out to be sent home, so Austin and Taylor couldn't be sent home, either, which I thought was lame. Get rid of all of them. Each ended up with a week-long suspension when we came home. They also had to spend the next two activities sitting out with Marie, another teacher.
We had another picnic lunch, then went to Mote Marine Lab. We saw a giant preserved squid, some fish, some sharks, and typical aquarium type stuff. Then we went to a Spineless Sea lecture, where kids identified and classified echinoderms, arthropods, mollusks, and more. They were informed (rather, reminded, as they'd already learned it in school), that squids and octopi are considered mollusks, which is confusing, as mollusks must have shells to be considered mollusks. The shell, or remnants of a shell, of a mollusk is internal. So they were put in groups again and asked to dissect small squids. They found the shell, called the pen, dipped it in the squid ink, and were asked to write their initials on paper. They loved that part!!
During the dissection, Ashely started giggling. She turned around and asked me if I'd heard about what happened to Penny. I hadn't, and Ashley could barely get it out. She shared a kayak with Penny earlier that day. Neither had done it before. Remember the anecdote I told you to remember? Well, here's what happened in Ashley's words: "Well, you know how Mrs. S. is so calm and intelligent and stuff? Me and her were in the kayak together, and we ran into one of those bush things {mangroves} and it cut her face up and she said, 'OH, SHIT!' She told me after I stopped laughing, 'That's between you and me, Ashley.' So of course everyone knows now, because that's too funny to keep to myself!" Josh was at the table with her, turned around, and said, "Mrs. M. ... that's exactly what we talked about!!! We were probably talking about it as it was happening!" He couldn't stop laughing. I had noticed the cuts on Penny's forehead and cheek, as well as her arms, which were also bruised, but didn't want to ask her about it. The way Ashley told the story was so funny, I couldn't control my laughter. We got shushed. Oops.
After that, Patrick told Marie, "Mrs. B., have you noticed that everything we've done on this trip ties in with what we learned in science this year?" "Yes, Patrick, that's kind of the point!"
After dinner at the Old Salty Dog restaurant, where I had the biggest chicken sandwich in the world, we went to Lido Beach, where we walked, played around, and watched a beautiful sunset. Then we went to an amazing ice cream place. I had English toffee ice cream in a waffle cone...absolutely amazing!!!!
Did you see the bun under the chicken? It was DWARFED. I had to cut the breast in several small pieces and left more than half of it behind on my plate!
We checked into the Sarasota Hampton Inn that night, and there was not a peep reported to us by the security guards. We'd basically threatened them all with expulsion if anything happened that night. We saw the course leaders weren't planning on staying in the halls, so we all plopped on the ground (we got rooms all on one floor this time) and kept watch until the security guards showed up 40 minutes late.
Next morning, we went to Myakka State Park, walked through a forest of palms and elms, and took a canopy walk. It was gorgeous. We climbed a tower 76 feet up to a platform and had a breathtaking view of the park.
From there, we went to Myakka Lake, where we had a slow airboat ride to look for alligators. It was really cold, so we didn't see as many as we would have liked, but we did see some. The tour guide had a low, monotone voice, and the kids, exhausted, all passed out.
After that, we headed back to Tampa. We got lunch at a few fast food places that were all in a row along the way. In Tampa, we went to the Florida Aquarium, which was much smaller than our Aquarium of the Americas, but had nicer displays. I got to see a penguin show!!! I loved them almost as much as I loved the manatees.
We had dinner (rather, everyone but me had dinner) at the Golden Corral. After a terrible buffet experience involving food poisoning and me breaking my 13-year streak of not vomiting (I beat Seinfeld!!!), I don't do buffet. Then we went to the airport, where I got a fruit cup and croissant from Starbucks for dinner. After an uneventful flight back to New Orleans, I was home. I slept until 2 p.m. the next day. That's just awful!
I'd rank swimming with the manatees among my top 5 life experiences. Hm...that's an interesting blog idea....
Monday, March 10, 2008
School work
Hopefully, I am in my final semester at the University of No Opportunity. One of my classes is great fun. It's Materials and Methods in Secondary School English. Our class as nice easy discussions about what we've read and/or experienced, then concludes with a writing workshop. We're using the book "Rose, Where Did You Get That Red? -- Teaching Great Poetry to Children" by Kenneth Koch. It's a well-documented fact that I hate -- nay, loathe -- poetry. I'm not good at it. I'm not deep enough, I guess.
Anyway, I really look forward to this part of my day on Mondays. We're given a poem to read, then we write a poem in that style. I look at it as spoofing, which I enjoy, as opposed to poetry, which makes me uncomfortable.
I thought I'd share some of my work.
This is Just to Say
By William Carlos Williams
I have eaten
the plums
that were in
the icebox
and which
you were probably
saving for breakfast
Forgive me
they were delicious
so sweet
and so cold
This is Just to Say
By me
I threw away
your favorite
T-shirt that
you cut the sleeves off
and wore
to mow the lawn
during
the summer
Forgive me
it was trashy
so ugly
and inappropriate
The Passionate Shpeherd to His Love
By Christopher Marlowe
Come live with me and be my love
And we will all the pleasures prove
That valleys, groves, hills, and fields,
Woods, or steepy mountain yields.
And we will sit upon the rocks,
Seeing the shepherds feed their flocks,
By shallow rivers to whose falls
Melodious birds sing madrigals.
And I will make thee beds of roses
And a thousand fragrant posies,
A cap of flowers, and a kirtle
Embroidered all with leaves of myrtle;
A gown made of the finest wool
Which from our pretty lambs we pull;
Fair linéd slippers for the cold
With buckles of the purest gold;
A belt of straw and ivy buds,
With coral clasps and amber studs:
And if these pleasures may thee move,
Come live with me, and be my love.
The shepherds' swains shall dance and sing
For thy delight each May morning:
If these delights thy mind may move,
Then live with me, and be my love.
A Passionate First-Time Homeowner to Her Family
By me
Come work with me and fix my home
And we will drown in cleaners that foam
To scrub the filth from all the walls
Left by people who trashed the halls.
And we will spackle all the holes
And have the house leveled on poles
By men who crawl and yell and curse
As they earn money out our purse.
And I will pick out paint swatches
As the bugs my grandmother squashes,
We'll buy stock in Killz
As we pay all our bills.
A couch of microfiber suede
Will be just right and make the grade;
We'll tie it together with a rug
And flowers from the garden we dug.
A plumber to fix our water lines,
Shades to replace the scuzzy blinds,
And boxes that we'll need to move
So we can get our life in groove.
The work will be quite arduous,
My parents may try to argue us,
But in the end it will truly be ours,
Made lovely by our simple powers.
A True Account of Talking to the Sun at Fire Island
By Frank O'Hara
The Sun woke me this morning loud
and clear, saying "Hey! I've been
trying to wake you up for fifteen
minutes. Don't be so rude, you are
only the second poet I've ever chosen
to speak to personally
so why
aren't you more attentive? If I could
burn you through the window I would
to wake you up. I can't hang around
here all day."
"Sorry, Sun, I stayed
up late last night talking to Hal."
"When I woke up Mayakovsky he was
a lot more prompt" the Sun said
petulantly. "Most people are up
already waiting to see if I'm going
to put in an appearance."
I tried
to apologize "I missed you yesterday."
"That's better" he said. "I didn't
know you'd come out." "You may be
wondering why I've come so close?"
"Yes" I said beginning to feel hot
wondering if maybe he wasn't burning me
anyway.
Frankly I wanted to tell you
I like your poetry. I see a lot
on my rounds and you're okay. You may
not be the greatest thing on earth, but
you're different. Now, I've heard some
say you're crazy, they being excessively
calm themselves to my mind, and other
crazy poets think that you're a boring
reactionary. Not me.
Just keep on
like I do and pay no attention. You'll
find that people always will complain
about the atmosphere, either too hot
or too cold too bright or too dark, days
too short or too long.
If you don't appear
at all one day they think you're lazy
or dead. Just keep right on, I like it.
And don't worry about your lineage
poetic or natural. The Sun shines on
the jungle, you know, on the tundra
the sea, the ghetto. Wherever you were
I knew it and saw you moving. I was waiting
for you to get to work.
And now that you
are making your own days, so to speak,
even if no one reads you but me
you won't be depressed. Not
everyone can look up, even at me. It
hurts their eyes."
"Oh Sun, I'm so grateful to you!"
"Thanks and remember I'm watching. It's
easier for me to speak to you out
here. I don't have to slide down
between buildings to get your ear.
I know you love Manhattan, but
you ought to look up more often.
And
always embrace things, people earth
sky stars, as I do, freely and with
the appropriate sense of space. That
is your inclination, known in the heavens
and you should follow it to hell, if
necessary, which I doubt.
Maybe we'll
speak again in Africa, of which I too
am especially fond. Go back to sleep now
Frank, and I may leave a tiny poem
in that brain of yours as my farewell."
"Sun, don't go!" I was awake
at last. "No, go I must. they're calling
me."
"Who are they?"
Rising he said "Some
day you'll know. They're calling to you
too." Darkly he rose, and then I slept.
My Least Favorite Class Piece to an Obnoxious Poem
By me
My flash drive opened on my first
attempt this morning. "Hey! I've been
meaning to catch you. You're usually
in such a rush that I slow you down
by hiding from your save icon just
to make sure you're paying attention.
I'm opening immediately to make
you appreciate
what I do for you."
"Sorry, flash drive,
I stayed up late playing 'Rock Band'
and forgot to type my study guide."
"When I save your photos, you're
a lot more cautious," my flash drive said
cantankerously. "Most people don't shove
me on a keychain and throw me around
like a beanbag."
I tried to apologize.
"I never leave home without you."
"That's better" he said. "I
didn't think you'd reveal yourself
before I clicked save thrice."
"You may be wondering why I worked the first time?"
"Yes" I said beginning to
feel reformatted and wondering if
he'd wipe clean like my first one did.
"Frankly I wanted to tell
you that I like your prose. I see
all of your files and you're okay.
You may not do poetry
worth a darn, but your
prose hits home. I've saved
some corrupt files and frozen in
your USB, but I've always
saved your photos and prose properly.
Just keep on doing
what you enjoy and are interested
in. You'll find everyone's a critic,
but the arts a re personal. Too
wordy, too action, not lengthy,
to posed. You'll never please everyone, so just enjoy what
you do.
And don't worry,
not everyone shares your quirks.
But that's what keeps us awake and interested."
We had a few examples of Blues poems, and I wrote two. One has the exact repetition, while the other does not.
Cable's Gone Down
By me
Cable's gone down again,
Cable's gone down.
Cable's gone down again,
Cable's gone down.
Another truck barged down the street
Cable's laying on the ground.
Third time this month,
Plus once for the electric wires.
Third time this month,
Plus once for the electric wires.
We're lucky that one
Didn't cause house fires.
Cox swears they raised the lines,
Yet down they still go.
Cox swears they raised the lines,
Yet down they still go.
You'd swear these guys were amateurs
But they swear that they're pros.
Tried to call Cox on my cell phone,
But my cell phone's a hunk of junk.
Tried to call Cox on my cell phone,
But my cell phone's a hunk of junk.
No phone, no TV, no Internet,
My communication is bunk.
Feel cut off from the world,
In this Gilligan's Island.
Feel cut off from the world,
In this Gilligan's Isle.
Hope no disasters strike,
'Cause Cox says it'll be a while.
Coulda Had Another BA Blues
By me
Was back in '04 when I came here
Thought the program would be a breeze.
Came to UNO in '04 to learn
Thought the program would be a breeze.
Had no idea that I'd still be around,
Crying here on my knees.
Registered late back in '04,
Couldn't get a class.
PRAXIS scores came late in '04,
Couldn't get a class.
So I spent that first semester
Planted firmly on my ass.
Things went well in Spring '05,
I found a routine and did well.
Things were easy in '05,
loved my routine and did it well.
Found a job for the coming school year.
Spring '05 kept me a live.
In Fall '05 there was Katrina,
I landed back at Nicholls.
Fall '05 here came Katrina,
Landed in my alma mater, Nicholls.
Those teachers and students only cared about themselves
I had to drop because I found more empathy in pickles.
Spring '06 was a bit better,
Had a full schedule.
In Spring '06 I thought it was better
Despite my full schedule.
Took some classes with a great teacher,
She kept us awake, and had passion for school.
Fall '06 was just the pits,
Nothing was attainable.
The end of '06 was seriously the pits,
No classes could be had.
It was just as well, with all that happened,
Going to school would have been bad.
Spring '07 found me hopeful,
But what was UNO thinking?
In Spring '07, I was hopeful,
But tell me what the hell they were thinking?
One class was only Monday, Wednesday, and Friday
From 10-11 a.m.? My patience was shrinking.
Went to register for Fall '07,
Discovered that I was out the system.
Went to register again in the fall,
But they kicked me out the system.
Had to reapply and cross my fingers,
They let me in, so I didn't have to beat 'em.
Had blocks on my account
Due to a medical waiver.
Had to remove blocks from my account
And sign a medical waiver
Married, monogamous women who don't live in dorms
Shouldn't get hepatitis, just UNO fever.
Got a class in Fall '07.
Couldn't believe my eyes.
Actually got in a class in Fall '07.
Couldn't believe my eyes.
I'd been gone so long that most had moved on,
And my new classmates I didn't recognize.
In Spring '08 I loaded down
Took three whole classes.
In Spring '08 I loaded down,
Actually got 3 whole classes.
Finally got some good news:
The state may choose to waive the last of my classes!
I'll be done by Fall of '08.
I can't believe it's near.
I'll be finished in '08,
Never thought it would near.
Instead of a mere certification,
I coulda had another BA, after 4 years.
Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird
By Wallace Stevens
1
Among twenty snowy mountains
The only moving thing
Was the eye of the blackbird.
2
I was of three minds,
Like a tree
In which there are three blackbirds.
3
The blackbird whirled in the autumn winds.
It was as mall part of the pantomime.
4
A man and a woman
Are one.
A man and a woman and a blackbird
Are one.
5
I do not know which to prefer,
The beauty of inflections
Or the beauty of innuendos.
The blackbird whistling
Or just after.
6
Icicles filled the long window
With barbaric glass
The shadow of the blackbird
Crossed it, to and fro.
The mood
Traced in the shadow
An indecipherable cause.
7
O thin men of Haddam,
Why do you imagine golden birds?
Do you not see how the blackbird
Walks around the feet
Of the women about you?
8
I know noble accents
And lucid, inescapable rhythms;
But i know, too,
That the blackbird is involved in what I know.
9
When the blackbird flew out of sight,
It marked the edge
Of one of many circles.
10
At the sight of blackbirds
Flying in a green light,
Even the bawds of euphony
Would cry out sharply.
11
He rode over Connecticut
In a glass coach.
Once, a fear pierced him,
In that he mistook
The shadow of his equipage
For blackbirds.
12
The river is moving.
The blackbird must be flying.
13
It was evening all afternoon.
It was snowing
And it was going to snow.
The blackbird sat
In the cedar-limbs.
Seven Ways of Looking at a Blister.
By me
1
Tucked away on the back of my
heel, just above the line of my shoe
is the scab of a hellacious blister.
2
It was blisteringly hot on Mardi Gras.
The shoes were broken in but sort of new.
My feet were sweating,
and the Quarter funk didn't help.
3
My friends blistered with excitement that the day had arrived.
4
The blister is a testament to the amount
of fun we had on the balcony on Royal that day.
5
All these weeks later,
I wear dress shoes each day that rub the blister that won't die.
6
Band-Aids sweat off and cease protecting the blister.
7
I tried to ignore the ache
and kept on my shoes as long as I could.
Hand grenades and Rainstorms dull the pain of a
blister, but only for so long.
Before you know it, your shoe is covered in
blood and you let out guttural yells as you gingerly wash it.
Beware of Peroxide; pass me another drink.
Home Thoughts, From Abroad
By Robert Browning
1
Oh, to be in England
Now that April's there,
And whoever wakes in England
Sees, some morning, unaware,
That the lowest boughs and the brush wood sheaf
Round the elm-tree bole are in tiny leaf,
While the chaffinch sings on the orchard bough
In England -- now!
2
And after April, when May follows, And the whitethroat builds, and all the swallows!
Hark! where my blossomed pear-tree in the hedge
Leans to the field and scatters on the clover
Blossoms and dewdrops -- at the bent spray's edge --
That's the wise thrush; he sings each song twice over,
Lest you should think he never could recapture
The first fine careless rapture!
And though the fields look rough with hoary dew,
All will be gay when noontide wakes anew
The buttercups, the little children's dower
--Far brighter than this gaudy melon-flower!
Home Thoughts, From Anywhere But Here
By me
1
Oh, to be in Lakeview
Now that Spring is there,
And whoever wakes in Lakeview
Smells, some morning, unaware,
The scent of Tony Angelo's wafting 'cross the street
And sees the well-dressed and well-off stuffed down to their feet,
While we microwave Hot Pockets and toss a small side salad,
Wishing we could join them with their fragrant palates.
2
And after Katrina, when drought followed,
And the tornadoes blew through buildings hollowed,
Why? Oh why should we still yearn
For the ligustrums that blocked my nasal cavities
To be reborn and to return
Where Nature wrought her biggest travesties,
In this land of crime and sadness
Still this city brings me gladness!
And though we suffer much corruption,
Still I find the girl's got gumption
Like battered wive who won't leave their men,
--Still we return, again and again.
Anyway, I really look forward to this part of my day on Mondays. We're given a poem to read, then we write a poem in that style. I look at it as spoofing, which I enjoy, as opposed to poetry, which makes me uncomfortable.
I thought I'd share some of my work.
This is Just to Say
By William Carlos Williams
I have eaten
the plums
that were in
the icebox
and which
you were probably
saving for breakfast
Forgive me
they were delicious
so sweet
and so cold
This is Just to Say
By me
I threw away
your favorite
T-shirt that
you cut the sleeves off
and wore
to mow the lawn
during
the summer
Forgive me
it was trashy
so ugly
and inappropriate
The Passionate Shpeherd to His Love
By Christopher Marlowe
Come live with me and be my love
And we will all the pleasures prove
That valleys, groves, hills, and fields,
Woods, or steepy mountain yields.
And we will sit upon the rocks,
Seeing the shepherds feed their flocks,
By shallow rivers to whose falls
Melodious birds sing madrigals.
And I will make thee beds of roses
And a thousand fragrant posies,
A cap of flowers, and a kirtle
Embroidered all with leaves of myrtle;
A gown made of the finest wool
Which from our pretty lambs we pull;
Fair linéd slippers for the cold
With buckles of the purest gold;
A belt of straw and ivy buds,
With coral clasps and amber studs:
And if these pleasures may thee move,
Come live with me, and be my love.
The shepherds' swains shall dance and sing
For thy delight each May morning:
If these delights thy mind may move,
Then live with me, and be my love.
A Passionate First-Time Homeowner to Her Family
By me
Come work with me and fix my home
And we will drown in cleaners that foam
To scrub the filth from all the walls
Left by people who trashed the halls.
And we will spackle all the holes
And have the house leveled on poles
By men who crawl and yell and curse
As they earn money out our purse.
And I will pick out paint swatches
As the bugs my grandmother squashes,
We'll buy stock in Killz
As we pay all our bills.
A couch of microfiber suede
Will be just right and make the grade;
We'll tie it together with a rug
And flowers from the garden we dug.
A plumber to fix our water lines,
Shades to replace the scuzzy blinds,
And boxes that we'll need to move
So we can get our life in groove.
The work will be quite arduous,
My parents may try to argue us,
But in the end it will truly be ours,
Made lovely by our simple powers.
A True Account of Talking to the Sun at Fire Island
By Frank O'Hara
The Sun woke me this morning loud
and clear, saying "Hey! I've been
trying to wake you up for fifteen
minutes. Don't be so rude, you are
only the second poet I've ever chosen
to speak to personally
so why
aren't you more attentive? If I could
burn you through the window I would
to wake you up. I can't hang around
here all day."
"Sorry, Sun, I stayed
up late last night talking to Hal."
"When I woke up Mayakovsky he was
a lot more prompt" the Sun said
petulantly. "Most people are up
already waiting to see if I'm going
to put in an appearance."
I tried
to apologize "I missed you yesterday."
"That's better" he said. "I didn't
know you'd come out." "You may be
wondering why I've come so close?"
"Yes" I said beginning to feel hot
wondering if maybe he wasn't burning me
anyway.
Frankly I wanted to tell you
I like your poetry. I see a lot
on my rounds and you're okay. You may
not be the greatest thing on earth, but
you're different. Now, I've heard some
say you're crazy, they being excessively
calm themselves to my mind, and other
crazy poets think that you're a boring
reactionary. Not me.
Just keep on
like I do and pay no attention. You'll
find that people always will complain
about the atmosphere, either too hot
or too cold too bright or too dark, days
too short or too long.
If you don't appear
at all one day they think you're lazy
or dead. Just keep right on, I like it.
And don't worry about your lineage
poetic or natural. The Sun shines on
the jungle, you know, on the tundra
the sea, the ghetto. Wherever you were
I knew it and saw you moving. I was waiting
for you to get to work.
And now that you
are making your own days, so to speak,
even if no one reads you but me
you won't be depressed. Not
everyone can look up, even at me. It
hurts their eyes."
"Oh Sun, I'm so grateful to you!"
"Thanks and remember I'm watching. It's
easier for me to speak to you out
here. I don't have to slide down
between buildings to get your ear.
I know you love Manhattan, but
you ought to look up more often.
And
always embrace things, people earth
sky stars, as I do, freely and with
the appropriate sense of space. That
is your inclination, known in the heavens
and you should follow it to hell, if
necessary, which I doubt.
Maybe we'll
speak again in Africa, of which I too
am especially fond. Go back to sleep now
Frank, and I may leave a tiny poem
in that brain of yours as my farewell."
"Sun, don't go!" I was awake
at last. "No, go I must. they're calling
me."
"Who are they?"
Rising he said "Some
day you'll know. They're calling to you
too." Darkly he rose, and then I slept.
My Least Favorite Class Piece to an Obnoxious Poem
By me
My flash drive opened on my first
attempt this morning. "Hey! I've been
meaning to catch you. You're usually
in such a rush that I slow you down
by hiding from your save icon just
to make sure you're paying attention.
I'm opening immediately to make
you appreciate
what I do for you."
"Sorry, flash drive,
I stayed up late playing 'Rock Band'
and forgot to type my study guide."
"When I save your photos, you're
a lot more cautious," my flash drive said
cantankerously. "Most people don't shove
me on a keychain and throw me around
like a beanbag."
I tried to apologize.
"I never leave home without you."
"That's better" he said. "I
didn't think you'd reveal yourself
before I clicked save thrice."
"You may be wondering why I worked the first time?"
"Yes" I said beginning to
feel reformatted and wondering if
he'd wipe clean like my first one did.
"Frankly I wanted to tell
you that I like your prose. I see
all of your files and you're okay.
You may not do poetry
worth a darn, but your
prose hits home. I've saved
some corrupt files and frozen in
your USB, but I've always
saved your photos and prose properly.
Just keep on doing
what you enjoy and are interested
in. You'll find everyone's a critic,
but the arts a re personal. Too
wordy, too action, not lengthy,
to posed. You'll never please everyone, so just enjoy what
you do.
And don't worry,
not everyone shares your quirks.
But that's what keeps us awake and interested."
We had a few examples of Blues poems, and I wrote two. One has the exact repetition, while the other does not.
Cable's Gone Down
By me
Cable's gone down again,
Cable's gone down.
Cable's gone down again,
Cable's gone down.
Another truck barged down the street
Cable's laying on the ground.
Third time this month,
Plus once for the electric wires.
Third time this month,
Plus once for the electric wires.
We're lucky that one
Didn't cause house fires.
Cox swears they raised the lines,
Yet down they still go.
Cox swears they raised the lines,
Yet down they still go.
You'd swear these guys were amateurs
But they swear that they're pros.
Tried to call Cox on my cell phone,
But my cell phone's a hunk of junk.
Tried to call Cox on my cell phone,
But my cell phone's a hunk of junk.
No phone, no TV, no Internet,
My communication is bunk.
Feel cut off from the world,
In this Gilligan's Island.
Feel cut off from the world,
In this Gilligan's Isle.
Hope no disasters strike,
'Cause Cox says it'll be a while.
Coulda Had Another BA Blues
By me
Was back in '04 when I came here
Thought the program would be a breeze.
Came to UNO in '04 to learn
Thought the program would be a breeze.
Had no idea that I'd still be around,
Crying here on my knees.
Registered late back in '04,
Couldn't get a class.
PRAXIS scores came late in '04,
Couldn't get a class.
So I spent that first semester
Planted firmly on my ass.
Things went well in Spring '05,
I found a routine and did well.
Things were easy in '05,
loved my routine and did it well.
Found a job for the coming school year.
Spring '05 kept me a live.
In Fall '05 there was Katrina,
I landed back at Nicholls.
Fall '05 here came Katrina,
Landed in my alma mater, Nicholls.
Those teachers and students only cared about themselves
I had to drop because I found more empathy in pickles.
Spring '06 was a bit better,
Had a full schedule.
In Spring '06 I thought it was better
Despite my full schedule.
Took some classes with a great teacher,
She kept us awake, and had passion for school.
Fall '06 was just the pits,
Nothing was attainable.
The end of '06 was seriously the pits,
No classes could be had.
It was just as well, with all that happened,
Going to school would have been bad.
Spring '07 found me hopeful,
But what was UNO thinking?
In Spring '07, I was hopeful,
But tell me what the hell they were thinking?
One class was only Monday, Wednesday, and Friday
From 10-11 a.m.? My patience was shrinking.
Went to register for Fall '07,
Discovered that I was out the system.
Went to register again in the fall,
But they kicked me out the system.
Had to reapply and cross my fingers,
They let me in, so I didn't have to beat 'em.
Had blocks on my account
Due to a medical waiver.
Had to remove blocks from my account
And sign a medical waiver
Married, monogamous women who don't live in dorms
Shouldn't get hepatitis, just UNO fever.
Got a class in Fall '07.
Couldn't believe my eyes.
Actually got in a class in Fall '07.
Couldn't believe my eyes.
I'd been gone so long that most had moved on,
And my new classmates I didn't recognize.
In Spring '08 I loaded down
Took three whole classes.
In Spring '08 I loaded down,
Actually got 3 whole classes.
Finally got some good news:
The state may choose to waive the last of my classes!
I'll be done by Fall of '08.
I can't believe it's near.
I'll be finished in '08,
Never thought it would near.
Instead of a mere certification,
I coulda had another BA, after 4 years.
Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird
By Wallace Stevens
1
Among twenty snowy mountains
The only moving thing
Was the eye of the blackbird.
2
I was of three minds,
Like a tree
In which there are three blackbirds.
3
The blackbird whirled in the autumn winds.
It was as mall part of the pantomime.
4
A man and a woman
Are one.
A man and a woman and a blackbird
Are one.
5
I do not know which to prefer,
The beauty of inflections
Or the beauty of innuendos.
The blackbird whistling
Or just after.
6
Icicles filled the long window
With barbaric glass
The shadow of the blackbird
Crossed it, to and fro.
The mood
Traced in the shadow
An indecipherable cause.
7
O thin men of Haddam,
Why do you imagine golden birds?
Do you not see how the blackbird
Walks around the feet
Of the women about you?
8
I know noble accents
And lucid, inescapable rhythms;
But i know, too,
That the blackbird is involved in what I know.
9
When the blackbird flew out of sight,
It marked the edge
Of one of many circles.
10
At the sight of blackbirds
Flying in a green light,
Even the bawds of euphony
Would cry out sharply.
11
He rode over Connecticut
In a glass coach.
Once, a fear pierced him,
In that he mistook
The shadow of his equipage
For blackbirds.
12
The river is moving.
The blackbird must be flying.
13
It was evening all afternoon.
It was snowing
And it was going to snow.
The blackbird sat
In the cedar-limbs.
Seven Ways of Looking at a Blister.
By me
1
Tucked away on the back of my
heel, just above the line of my shoe
is the scab of a hellacious blister.
2
It was blisteringly hot on Mardi Gras.
The shoes were broken in but sort of new.
My feet were sweating,
and the Quarter funk didn't help.
3
My friends blistered with excitement that the day had arrived.
4
The blister is a testament to the amount
of fun we had on the balcony on Royal that day.
5
All these weeks later,
I wear dress shoes each day that rub the blister that won't die.
6
Band-Aids sweat off and cease protecting the blister.
7
I tried to ignore the ache
and kept on my shoes as long as I could.
Hand grenades and Rainstorms dull the pain of a
blister, but only for so long.
Before you know it, your shoe is covered in
blood and you let out guttural yells as you gingerly wash it.
Beware of Peroxide; pass me another drink.
Home Thoughts, From Abroad
By Robert Browning
1
Oh, to be in England
Now that April's there,
And whoever wakes in England
Sees, some morning, unaware,
That the lowest boughs and the brush wood sheaf
Round the elm-tree bole are in tiny leaf,
While the chaffinch sings on the orchard bough
In England -- now!
2
And after April, when May follows, And the whitethroat builds, and all the swallows!
Hark! where my blossomed pear-tree in the hedge
Leans to the field and scatters on the clover
Blossoms and dewdrops -- at the bent spray's edge --
That's the wise thrush; he sings each song twice over,
Lest you should think he never could recapture
The first fine careless rapture!
And though the fields look rough with hoary dew,
All will be gay when noontide wakes anew
The buttercups, the little children's dower
--Far brighter than this gaudy melon-flower!
Home Thoughts, From Anywhere But Here
By me
1
Oh, to be in Lakeview
Now that Spring is there,
And whoever wakes in Lakeview
Smells, some morning, unaware,
The scent of Tony Angelo's wafting 'cross the street
And sees the well-dressed and well-off stuffed down to their feet,
While we microwave Hot Pockets and toss a small side salad,
Wishing we could join them with their fragrant palates.
2
And after Katrina, when drought followed,
And the tornadoes blew through buildings hollowed,
Why? Oh why should we still yearn
For the ligustrums that blocked my nasal cavities
To be reborn and to return
Where Nature wrought her biggest travesties,
In this land of crime and sadness
Still this city brings me gladness!
And though we suffer much corruption,
Still I find the girl's got gumption
Like battered wive who won't leave their men,
--Still we return, again and again.
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