At 8th grade graduation, we always select two students to give commencement addresses. It's always two kids who have been there for a while, one boy, one girl, and they must embody our school's mission. This year, I helped the male student, Patrick, with his speech. It's so amazing, to come from him, to see how he has evolved since I first met him two years ago. I wanted to share it, because I'm so proud of it.
"My name is Patrick P. I promised my teachers this would not be a football story, but Ms. M [That would be me] said that if I could make a good, honest analogy between school and football, I could work it in. As a result, I would like to say that school is like a football game.
"School and football have more similarities than what you think. Your schoolmates are like your teammates, your teachers are your coaches, and Mr. E is the Commissioner. Just recently, my man, Brett Favre, (Best of all time) played 17 years in the NFL. You go to school, if you’re lucky enough, for 18 years. As I think winning games is being lucky, but putting in the work to succeed, I feel that finishing school is the same. In a football game, you have obstacles that you face, like a third and ten or a giant linebacker. In school, you also have obstacles like acing the tasks that get thrown at you.
"But when I look at school, when I look at football, and when I look at life, it’s all about going forward. You can’t go forward without making mistakes. When you work hard, you might take 5 steps forward, but you may end up having to take two steps back. In school, you might not get an A on every paper. You might put in the effort and put in the work, but you may come inches short of a first down. But then you get up, you get a new formation, and you try to attack the defense again. And you succeed.
"In his 17 years, Brett Favre saw a lot of wins and losses. He also saw players, coaches, and commissioners come and go. In my 6 years at Holy Rosary, I’ve seen a lot of wins and losses, and I’ve had my share of players, coaches, and commissioners come and go, too. Father T, Mr. B, and Mrs. P are three of those commissioners. Without their help and guidance, I would not be standing here today. With change comes growth and success. Father R and Mr. E have done an excellent job of leading our team to victory. Mrs. McN is our Brett Favre. She is retiring this year, like Brett, and I appreciate the special relationship we’ve had these last 6 years. I’ve also known Mrs. S for 6 years. I don’t know how she does it, but she’s the most mild-mannered person I’ve ever met. She’s taught me how to tolerate difficulties in school and life. I also want to thank Coach F for teaching me the way the game is supposed to be played. Even though I’ve only known Ms. M for 2 years, we’ve discovered a bond between us that can never be broken. Mrs. B, crazy Ms. B. This “child of God” would like to thank you for all of your patience and understanding. Ms. C, Mr. G, and Coach I, I’ve only known you for a few months, but I appreciate you just as much as Mrs. S and Ms. McN, who I’ve known for 6 years.
"Daniel B and Michael A are the two teammates I’ve known the longest. I really want to thank them for their friendship and support during all of the success and falls I’ve taken over the years.
"I also would like to thank my family for their support and for teaching me to love school and football.
"I would like to end by telling everyone that we can win championships if we work together and stand by God. Thank you."
Wednesday, May 21, 2008
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....
Thursday, March 20, 2008
Buried treasure
So, back when I was in college, I wrote a column for the school paper. I don't think it ever ran, but I did mail it to certain family members.
When we removed our belo9ngings from our attic, our sole possessions after Katrina included a random box that held stuff from college. In it were random, useless things, as well as my college diploma, which I thought I'd lost. My buried treasure was this column. The event took place in either late August 1998 or early September 1998. It's pretty funny based on the fact that it is a celebration of meat, yet I won't eat many varieties of meat these days. Remember, this was early in my college career, so bear with me as you read this occasionally cringe-inducing masterpiece.
Meat Fest
It all started innocently enough. My relatives from Philadelphia were coming in town for a few days, and to celebrate, we would all go across the lake to another set of relatives' house.
The visitors from Philly were my uncle Mike, my aunt Jean, and my two cousins, Crissy, 11, and Steffi, 7.
In addition to this bunch were my parents and 14-year-old brother, Geoff, my aunt Mimi and uncle Lance, Granny, uncle Dennis, his daughter Hayley, his girlfriend Kim, my uncle Dave, my aunt Judy, their kids Lauren and Colleen, my aunt Annie, my uncle Ralph, and their adult children Erin and Ralph, and me.
The main attraction of the day was a crab boil. Harmless enough, right?
Ha.
The day started off as planned: crabs. Delicious boiled crabs. Dave has a gift for boiling seafood.
Colleen is allergic to shellfish, so hot dogs and hamburgers were on hand. Steffi has a Yankee tongue, so she of course did not want any part of the crabs. Instead, she wrinkled her dainty little nose and stared at them like they were from the planet Zoltar.
Judy threw a few hot dogs on the grill for the girls. When she went to take them inside to fix them, one rolled off the plate and splattered into the dirt.
That reminds me: Do you know what happens to hot dogs if you leave them out in the sun for several hours?
They turn green. Limp and green.
Just thought you'd like to know.
So anyway, Lance decided that he wanted some sausage. Uncle Ralph, as opposed to young Ralph, announced that he had gotten some sausage from a friend. He called it "Special sausage."
The plate of sausage was passed around. I decided not to partake in the consumption of it since it had been labeled "special." He went on to elaborate that the sausage could only be obtained through friends.
Any guesses on what it was?
Oh, come on. This is South Louisiana.
Yup. You guessed it: venison. Deer sausage.
After consuming nearly all of the crabs, two sacks worth, along with some various other things, like venison, hot dogs, and munchie-type things, they seemed to slow down. It was just a breather, though.
Not long after the remains were disposed of, they brought out a fruit tray and two cakes. A chocolate cake congratulating Mike on his recent promotion to President and COO of Rohm-Haas Chemicals and a "wedding cake" for Annie's birthday.
By this point in time, my brother got bored and got out the video camera. Some of the exciting footage he captured included a turtle eating a large chunk of cantaloupe and Erin trying to feed Young Ralph a piece of cake.
I'm not sure which was more humorous. The turtle had a nice aesthetic quality with the green leaves, green turtle, and orange fruit. Watching his little neck shoot out of his shell as he bit into the fleshy fruit, which kept inching away from him, amused Geoff for a long time. The section with the turtle must be almost 3 minutes long.
Erin feeding Young Ralph is amusing. He did not want to eat it. The scene has Erin coaxing him whilst chanting "Eat it! Eat it! Eat it!" He kept moving his head away from her, and finally the piece of cake hit his mouth, fell off the fork, and bounced off his chest.
Did I mention they are 27 and 22?
We soon grew bored of shouting "Eat it! Eat it!" at each other, so the four of us journeyed inside to watch "Daria."
Erin made an important observation at this point: The men were all standing around the meat and the fire, standing at that safe "man-distance." The women were sitting in a circle at "woman distances," all chatting away.
The subject of our discussion, though, was the men standing around the fire.
"Look at them," Erin said. "That must be some primitive caveman instinct that has been carried through evolution. They feel a need to stand around the kill and make sure it cooks correctly."
That also brought us to our next observation: They were cooking again!
Hamburgers, hot dogs, and ribs, oh my!
This prompted Erin to christen the day as a "Meat Marathon." This evolved into "Meatapalooza," "Meat Festival," and, finally, "Meat Fest."
We discovered that the jambalaya present had turkey sausage in it.
"Hey, do you realize that we have met from every meat genre present?" asked Young Ralph. "Pork, venison, beef, seafood, poultry..."
We went on like that for at least an hour. By that time, it was time to eat. Judy brought out a (ready for some irony?) Sugar-Buster's pasta salad. Guess what was one of the ingredients?
Pepperoni.
Then Dave came inside to inform us that, should we want them, the rest of the crabs were being served, so hurry up and get outside!
We picked at the food for a while. Only picked, because we were waiting for the ribs to cook.
In the meantime, I picked up the video camera and went outside. By this point in time, the mosquitoes were having a "Meat Fest" of their own, with my family as their main course. But did this stop them? No.
I interviewed several people as to what their thoughts were on "Meat Fest '98." Everyone seemed to enjoy it. My mom added that it should become an annual event, and whipped out her personal calendar to write it in the advanced planning section.
I wandered over to the table where they were devouring the rest of the crabs, and Erin suggested making a documentary of how to eat crabs.
She just got her master's in speech pathology, and she had to dissect some cadavers in school. She told us that her cadaver had a Band-Aid on, and she couldn't help but think that that was an absurd and futile point. I jokingly called her crab procedural a "Crab autopsy." She liked the idea and crowned herself "Dana Scully" after the FBI agent on "The X-Files."
She thoroughly enjoyed this dissection. She said, "It felt just like old times."
Young Ralph, who is pursuing a degree in physical therapy, also had to dissect some cadavers for school. "It's just meat!" he said. "That's what we used to say in class. 'It's just meat.'"
Shortly after the crab autopsy, the ribs were ready. We were waiting for them inside, and the leftover hamburgers were sitting on a plate glistening in the light. "Mmmmmmm....glistening meat. Ahhhhhhh...." said Erin in an impression of Homer Simpson.
The ribs were finally ready, and we pounced on them like lions circling a dead zebra. (Hmmmm...there's an interesting meat that was not served.)
Erin stuck out her thumb and said, "Look, you know you're enjoying it a little too much when you get meat under your fingernail."
A moth was circling the table bothering everyone. Young Ralph tried to smash it when it landed in the bread basket. All he succeeded in doing was smashing some buns. The moth landed by me, so I picked up a hamburger bun, separated it, and smashed that sucker between the slices.
This grossed out my littler cousins. Geoff said, "Oooh, moth burgers! More meat!"
I just grinned at them and asked, "Want some flies with that?" (Grooooooaaaannnnn)
Somewhere in there, we started joking about making Meat Fest '98 T-shirts and selling them. Then we turned serious. That wasn't such a bad idea. That night, Geoff immediately got on the computer and designed a shirt. I think we may actually do it.
When we removed our belo9ngings from our attic, our sole possessions after Katrina included a random box that held stuff from college. In it were random, useless things, as well as my college diploma, which I thought I'd lost. My buried treasure was this column. The event took place in either late August 1998 or early September 1998. It's pretty funny based on the fact that it is a celebration of meat, yet I won't eat many varieties of meat these days. Remember, this was early in my college career, so bear with me as you read this occasionally cringe-inducing masterpiece.
Meat Fest
It all started innocently enough. My relatives from Philadelphia were coming in town for a few days, and to celebrate, we would all go across the lake to another set of relatives' house.
The visitors from Philly were my uncle Mike, my aunt Jean, and my two cousins, Crissy, 11, and Steffi, 7.
In addition to this bunch were my parents and 14-year-old brother, Geoff, my aunt Mimi and uncle Lance, Granny, uncle Dennis, his daughter Hayley, his girlfriend Kim, my uncle Dave, my aunt Judy, their kids Lauren and Colleen, my aunt Annie, my uncle Ralph, and their adult children Erin and Ralph, and me.
The main attraction of the day was a crab boil. Harmless enough, right?
Ha.
The day started off as planned: crabs. Delicious boiled crabs. Dave has a gift for boiling seafood.
Colleen is allergic to shellfish, so hot dogs and hamburgers were on hand. Steffi has a Yankee tongue, so she of course did not want any part of the crabs. Instead, she wrinkled her dainty little nose and stared at them like they were from the planet Zoltar.
Judy threw a few hot dogs on the grill for the girls. When she went to take them inside to fix them, one rolled off the plate and splattered into the dirt.
That reminds me: Do you know what happens to hot dogs if you leave them out in the sun for several hours?
They turn green. Limp and green.
Just thought you'd like to know.
So anyway, Lance decided that he wanted some sausage. Uncle Ralph, as opposed to young Ralph, announced that he had gotten some sausage from a friend. He called it "Special sausage."
The plate of sausage was passed around. I decided not to partake in the consumption of it since it had been labeled "special." He went on to elaborate that the sausage could only be obtained through friends.
Any guesses on what it was?
Oh, come on. This is South Louisiana.
Yup. You guessed it: venison. Deer sausage.
After consuming nearly all of the crabs, two sacks worth, along with some various other things, like venison, hot dogs, and munchie-type things, they seemed to slow down. It was just a breather, though.
Not long after the remains were disposed of, they brought out a fruit tray and two cakes. A chocolate cake congratulating Mike on his recent promotion to President and COO of Rohm-Haas Chemicals and a "wedding cake" for Annie's birthday.
By this point in time, my brother got bored and got out the video camera. Some of the exciting footage he captured included a turtle eating a large chunk of cantaloupe and Erin trying to feed Young Ralph a piece of cake.
I'm not sure which was more humorous. The turtle had a nice aesthetic quality with the green leaves, green turtle, and orange fruit. Watching his little neck shoot out of his shell as he bit into the fleshy fruit, which kept inching away from him, amused Geoff for a long time. The section with the turtle must be almost 3 minutes long.
Erin feeding Young Ralph is amusing. He did not want to eat it. The scene has Erin coaxing him whilst chanting "Eat it! Eat it! Eat it!" He kept moving his head away from her, and finally the piece of cake hit his mouth, fell off the fork, and bounced off his chest.
Did I mention they are 27 and 22?
We soon grew bored of shouting "Eat it! Eat it!" at each other, so the four of us journeyed inside to watch "Daria."
Erin made an important observation at this point: The men were all standing around the meat and the fire, standing at that safe "man-distance." The women were sitting in a circle at "woman distances," all chatting away.
The subject of our discussion, though, was the men standing around the fire.
"Look at them," Erin said. "That must be some primitive caveman instinct that has been carried through evolution. They feel a need to stand around the kill and make sure it cooks correctly."
That also brought us to our next observation: They were cooking again!
Hamburgers, hot dogs, and ribs, oh my!
This prompted Erin to christen the day as a "Meat Marathon." This evolved into "Meatapalooza," "Meat Festival," and, finally, "Meat Fest."
We discovered that the jambalaya present had turkey sausage in it.
"Hey, do you realize that we have met from every meat genre present?" asked Young Ralph. "Pork, venison, beef, seafood, poultry..."
We went on like that for at least an hour. By that time, it was time to eat. Judy brought out a (ready for some irony?) Sugar-Buster's pasta salad. Guess what was one of the ingredients?
Pepperoni.
Then Dave came inside to inform us that, should we want them, the rest of the crabs were being served, so hurry up and get outside!
We picked at the food for a while. Only picked, because we were waiting for the ribs to cook.
In the meantime, I picked up the video camera and went outside. By this point in time, the mosquitoes were having a "Meat Fest" of their own, with my family as their main course. But did this stop them? No.
I interviewed several people as to what their thoughts were on "Meat Fest '98." Everyone seemed to enjoy it. My mom added that it should become an annual event, and whipped out her personal calendar to write it in the advanced planning section.
I wandered over to the table where they were devouring the rest of the crabs, and Erin suggested making a documentary of how to eat crabs.
She just got her master's in speech pathology, and she had to dissect some cadavers in school. She told us that her cadaver had a Band-Aid on, and she couldn't help but think that that was an absurd and futile point. I jokingly called her crab procedural a "Crab autopsy." She liked the idea and crowned herself "Dana Scully" after the FBI agent on "The X-Files."
She thoroughly enjoyed this dissection. She said, "It felt just like old times."
Young Ralph, who is pursuing a degree in physical therapy, also had to dissect some cadavers for school. "It's just meat!" he said. "That's what we used to say in class. 'It's just meat.'"
Shortly after the crab autopsy, the ribs were ready. We were waiting for them inside, and the leftover hamburgers were sitting on a plate glistening in the light. "Mmmmmmm....glistening meat. Ahhhhhhh...." said Erin in an impression of Homer Simpson.
The ribs were finally ready, and we pounced on them like lions circling a dead zebra. (Hmmmm...there's an interesting meat that was not served.)
Erin stuck out her thumb and said, "Look, you know you're enjoying it a little too much when you get meat under your fingernail."
A moth was circling the table bothering everyone. Young Ralph tried to smash it when it landed in the bread basket. All he succeeded in doing was smashing some buns. The moth landed by me, so I picked up a hamburger bun, separated it, and smashed that sucker between the slices.
This grossed out my littler cousins. Geoff said, "Oooh, moth burgers! More meat!"
I just grinned at them and asked, "Want some flies with that?" (Grooooooaaaannnnn)
Somewhere in there, we started joking about making Meat Fest '98 T-shirts and selling them. Then we turned serious. That wasn't such a bad idea. That night, Geoff immediately got on the computer and designed a shirt. I think we may actually do it.
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.
Sunday, March 02, 2008
Damned straight.
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| Your personality type is SLUAI |
| You are social, moody, unstructured, accommodating, and intellectual, and may prefer a city which matches those traits. |
| The largest representation of your personality type can be found in the these U.S. cities: New Orleans, Albuquerque/Santa Fe, Greensboro, Memphis, Providence, Washington DC, Pittsburgh, Orlando, Salt Lake City, Portland/Salem, St. Louis and these international countries/regions Puerto Rico, Iceland, Kazakhstan, Luxembourg, Turkey, Ireland, Ukraine, England, South Africa, Greece, Wales, Brazil, Switzerland, South Korea |
City Reviews at CityCulture.org
Friday, February 08, 2008
I am PISSED
Every day, generally, I check into a great "news" website, www.fark.com. They link news articles to sarcastic headlines. It's a great way to kill some time. Well, today, they had this headline, which linked to a story on www.nola.com: "New Orleans continues to make the case against rebuilding it" (this was also tagged "Obvious" by the people at Fark. http://www.nola.com/news/index.ssf/2008/02/man_fatally_shot_in_lower_gard.html is the article, if you're interested.
What had me upset was, yeah, we're in trouble. Yeah, things aren't good. But it's not the whole city, and it's not everyone, and it's generally crimes committed against people the murderers know and sometimes innocent bystanders. You know, same thing in cities all over the world. Charles Grant, a New Orleans Saint, was an innocent bystander victim the other day. Outside a nightclub. He was stabbed in the neck with a broken bottle. IN GEORGIA.
You can't cover up these grisly stories. That would do everyone an injustice. But for crying out loud. Don't kick us while we're down. I love Fark. I love their headlines. Generally, when there's a story about New Orleans, the headlines are funny. It's not like I got so offended I'll never go back to the site. I'll go back tomorrow to see what else is new. In fact, that headline is NOT what has me so pissed off right now. I got over that quickly.
Why am I pissed? Because of what just happened that has me blogging at 1 a.m. Luckily, since it's Mardi Gras week, I'm off of school all week and don't have to get up early tomorrow. However, Mark, who has a cold, is still up because of this, and he DOES have work in the morning. Good thing he's not at WWL any more...otherwise he'd have to be to work in 4 hours.
I was sitting here at my computer, watching an instruction video for the Cat Genie...you've GOT to see this thing...it's a self-flushing, self-cleaning litter box. My idea of heaven, really... www.catgenie.com if you're interested.
Anyway, I heard four close together popping sounds. We live next to the Interstate, so we're used to weird noises. We just wound up Mardi Gras. We're used to weird noises. People were still shooting fireworks around here as of Endymion and the Super Bowl. For a split second, as I always do when cars backfire and when fireworks go off out of season, I thought, "GASP! GUNSHOTS!" Then I told myself I was overreacting and should continue watching this amazing video. Within a couple of minutes, a loud crashing sound happened. I called to Mark, who was in his office, and we both got up to investigate. We live at the end of a street. There are street signs posted warning of the dead end. Yet since we've lived here in May, we've been at home in time to hear what now amounts to THREE cars slamming through the signs and getting stuck in our yard. Usually, the people can't back up because the signs are stuck under their cars, and they have to pull up into our front yard and go through our driveway. But on two occasions, we've had both cars in the driveway, and they've had trouble getting out.
The loud crash was the sound of a car running through the signs again. And since we were both parked in the driveway, Mark went to see if the driver, who was frantically revving his engine, needed help, i.e., Mark moving his car. The closer Mark got, the faster he revved his engine. It was an old hoopty of a car. He peeled out, leaving a burning smell in the air, and managed to not hit Mark's car in the process. We tried to catch the plate numbers but missed. Our nice next-door neighbor, Brett, was outside on his cell phone calling it in. He also missed the plate. It was dark outside.
We went to talk to Brett, who, it seems, we only see when something weird happens in the neighborhood...like the 5 times trucks pulled down our power and/or cable lines, or when the meth kids across the street got busted and subsequently evicted. But our neighborhood is nice. Our section hasn't been overtaken by mini-mansions yet, and it has a lot of old people. There are rentals closer to the train tracks, but it's nice and quiet. Neighbors talk to each other and wave. In fact, we met another one tonight, who came out to see what the ruckus was.
Anyway, we could tell Brett was on 911. We heard him say, "There were four shots fired, poppoppoppop, and then a few minutes later, a car came screaming down the street, ran into the street signs in my neighbors' yard, got stuck, peeled out, and drove south down our street, then turned right."
Shots fired.
SHOTS FIRED!
It wasn't until we eventually came back inside that the enormity of the situation hit me. We live in a decent area. Mark was going to see if the guy needed help. His car didn't look like it belonged here...a gold four-door late '80s Chevy Malibu (according to Brett)...and the driver was kind of thuggy-looking. Now, we have a mostly white neighborhood, but there are several black families who live further down our street. He didn't look like any of them. Or like he would even be going to visit them. He definitely didn't belong here. Yet, being nice people in a nice neighborhood, he went to see if he could help. Thankfully, he didn't have anyone else in his car. Otherwise, I'm pretty sure we would have been shot at. If he fired four shots, chances are he would have two rounds left, right? Mark. Me. Or Brett, who has two young kids, a wife in the hospital, and his mother staying with him.
Time to feel awful, because the racial divides in this city are ridiculous -- Jefferson Parish cops pulled up within 4 minutes of Brett hanging up with them. At LEAST 5 squad cars passed us. Three blocked our street for the majority of the time. In fact, Mark went to make sure we'd locked up a little while ago, and he said he thinks the cops are patrolling the neighborhood because he saw one pass.
If this wasn't a predominantly white neighborhood, we'd still be waiting for the cops, and they probably wouldn't be patrolling still. Why is this fair that we should get this attention? It's not. It's disgusting. That's yet another reason why I'm pissed and blogging at...well now it's 1:30 a.m.
So here's what we're thinking. Something happened a few streets west of here...no more than about 3 or 4, I would assume. Other reports about shots being fired were from the street and possibly block that my uncle Dennis lives on with his fiancée, Kim. Guy got in his car to make a getaway, in the darkness couldn't see the road signs because they're already a little slanted from the last idiot who ran into them, and slammed into them and the no-longer-connected-to-any-wires telephone pole that's right there. He broke the pole off, pulled it out of the ground, and thankfully slammed it into the tree. It's precariously balanced in the crook of some tree branches right now. There's a gaping hole where it was, and broken wood next to it. He definitely lost pieces of his car, because, despite the darkness, we found them in the grass. The cops have a piece of what may be the thing that holds his headlights. It's metal. I found plastic parts covered in oil. He leaked a trail of oil down the street. I told the old cop to just follow the trail, and they'll at least find the car. It was making far too much noise as he sped away, and smelled like burning, too. He's going to have a lot of front bumper damage, maybe rear bumper damage, and definitely undercarriage damage. He'll more than likely break down, and they'll at least get his car.
But holy crap. We could have been killed, all because we thought he was an innocent idiot who needed help getting out of our yard.
Goddammit.
Anyway, Obama was at Tulane University today. I'm not attaching myself to any candidates just yet. It's too early. And as a registered independent, I can't vote in the primaries, so I'm waiting until I see who gets narrowed down. The man has great speech writers and researchers in his employ. He made a great deal about this area and helping it recover and education, especially here...and now assholes like our yard idiot are just giving people more reason to say, "Fuck New Orleans. They don't deserve to recover."
Editing this to add that Entergy is outside right now taking care of our pole. Again, white neighborhood, fast response.
What had me upset was, yeah, we're in trouble. Yeah, things aren't good. But it's not the whole city, and it's not everyone, and it's generally crimes committed against people the murderers know and sometimes innocent bystanders. You know, same thing in cities all over the world. Charles Grant, a New Orleans Saint, was an innocent bystander victim the other day. Outside a nightclub. He was stabbed in the neck with a broken bottle. IN GEORGIA.
You can't cover up these grisly stories. That would do everyone an injustice. But for crying out loud. Don't kick us while we're down. I love Fark. I love their headlines. Generally, when there's a story about New Orleans, the headlines are funny. It's not like I got so offended I'll never go back to the site. I'll go back tomorrow to see what else is new. In fact, that headline is NOT what has me so pissed off right now. I got over that quickly.
Why am I pissed? Because of what just happened that has me blogging at 1 a.m. Luckily, since it's Mardi Gras week, I'm off of school all week and don't have to get up early tomorrow. However, Mark, who has a cold, is still up because of this, and he DOES have work in the morning. Good thing he's not at WWL any more...otherwise he'd have to be to work in 4 hours.
I was sitting here at my computer, watching an instruction video for the Cat Genie...you've GOT to see this thing...it's a self-flushing, self-cleaning litter box. My idea of heaven, really... www.catgenie.com if you're interested.
Anyway, I heard four close together popping sounds. We live next to the Interstate, so we're used to weird noises. We just wound up Mardi Gras. We're used to weird noises. People were still shooting fireworks around here as of Endymion and the Super Bowl. For a split second, as I always do when cars backfire and when fireworks go off out of season, I thought, "GASP! GUNSHOTS!" Then I told myself I was overreacting and should continue watching this amazing video. Within a couple of minutes, a loud crashing sound happened. I called to Mark, who was in his office, and we both got up to investigate. We live at the end of a street. There are street signs posted warning of the dead end. Yet since we've lived here in May, we've been at home in time to hear what now amounts to THREE cars slamming through the signs and getting stuck in our yard. Usually, the people can't back up because the signs are stuck under their cars, and they have to pull up into our front yard and go through our driveway. But on two occasions, we've had both cars in the driveway, and they've had trouble getting out.
The loud crash was the sound of a car running through the signs again. And since we were both parked in the driveway, Mark went to see if the driver, who was frantically revving his engine, needed help, i.e., Mark moving his car. The closer Mark got, the faster he revved his engine. It was an old hoopty of a car. He peeled out, leaving a burning smell in the air, and managed to not hit Mark's car in the process. We tried to catch the plate numbers but missed. Our nice next-door neighbor, Brett, was outside on his cell phone calling it in. He also missed the plate. It was dark outside.
We went to talk to Brett, who, it seems, we only see when something weird happens in the neighborhood...like the 5 times trucks pulled down our power and/or cable lines, or when the meth kids across the street got busted and subsequently evicted. But our neighborhood is nice. Our section hasn't been overtaken by mini-mansions yet, and it has a lot of old people. There are rentals closer to the train tracks, but it's nice and quiet. Neighbors talk to each other and wave. In fact, we met another one tonight, who came out to see what the ruckus was.
Anyway, we could tell Brett was on 911. We heard him say, "There were four shots fired, poppoppoppop, and then a few minutes later, a car came screaming down the street, ran into the street signs in my neighbors' yard, got stuck, peeled out, and drove south down our street, then turned right."
Shots fired.
SHOTS FIRED!
It wasn't until we eventually came back inside that the enormity of the situation hit me. We live in a decent area. Mark was going to see if the guy needed help. His car didn't look like it belonged here...a gold four-door late '80s Chevy Malibu (according to Brett)...and the driver was kind of thuggy-looking. Now, we have a mostly white neighborhood, but there are several black families who live further down our street. He didn't look like any of them. Or like he would even be going to visit them. He definitely didn't belong here. Yet, being nice people in a nice neighborhood, he went to see if he could help. Thankfully, he didn't have anyone else in his car. Otherwise, I'm pretty sure we would have been shot at. If he fired four shots, chances are he would have two rounds left, right? Mark. Me. Or Brett, who has two young kids, a wife in the hospital, and his mother staying with him.
Time to feel awful, because the racial divides in this city are ridiculous -- Jefferson Parish cops pulled up within 4 minutes of Brett hanging up with them. At LEAST 5 squad cars passed us. Three blocked our street for the majority of the time. In fact, Mark went to make sure we'd locked up a little while ago, and he said he thinks the cops are patrolling the neighborhood because he saw one pass.
If this wasn't a predominantly white neighborhood, we'd still be waiting for the cops, and they probably wouldn't be patrolling still. Why is this fair that we should get this attention? It's not. It's disgusting. That's yet another reason why I'm pissed and blogging at...well now it's 1:30 a.m.
So here's what we're thinking. Something happened a few streets west of here...no more than about 3 or 4, I would assume. Other reports about shots being fired were from the street and possibly block that my uncle Dennis lives on with his fiancée, Kim. Guy got in his car to make a getaway, in the darkness couldn't see the road signs because they're already a little slanted from the last idiot who ran into them, and slammed into them and the no-longer-connected-to-any-wires telephone pole that's right there. He broke the pole off, pulled it out of the ground, and thankfully slammed it into the tree. It's precariously balanced in the crook of some tree branches right now. There's a gaping hole where it was, and broken wood next to it. He definitely lost pieces of his car, because, despite the darkness, we found them in the grass. The cops have a piece of what may be the thing that holds his headlights. It's metal. I found plastic parts covered in oil. He leaked a trail of oil down the street. I told the old cop to just follow the trail, and they'll at least find the car. It was making far too much noise as he sped away, and smelled like burning, too. He's going to have a lot of front bumper damage, maybe rear bumper damage, and definitely undercarriage damage. He'll more than likely break down, and they'll at least get his car.
But holy crap. We could have been killed, all because we thought he was an innocent idiot who needed help getting out of our yard.
Goddammit.
Anyway, Obama was at Tulane University today. I'm not attaching myself to any candidates just yet. It's too early. And as a registered independent, I can't vote in the primaries, so I'm waiting until I see who gets narrowed down. The man has great speech writers and researchers in his employ. He made a great deal about this area and helping it recover and education, especially here...and now assholes like our yard idiot are just giving people more reason to say, "Fuck New Orleans. They don't deserve to recover."
Editing this to add that Entergy is outside right now taking care of our pole. Again, white neighborhood, fast response.
Tuesday, February 05, 2008
Post-Mardi Gras/Pre-Bedtime report:
Temperature -- high of 80
Sky -- Usually overcast, sometimes sunny
Breeze -- Present
Humidity -- check and double check
Number of friends who dressed with me -- 2
Number of times we were asked what we were and were stumped -- eleventy-billion
Strangers asking to take a picture with us -- many
Strangers who just took our pictures -- tons
Blisters on feet -- bleeding
Drinks -- strong
Old women's breasts seen -- too many...
Students walking alone down Bourbon Street who recognized me in costume -- one
Drink in my hand at that moment -- thankfully, had just thrown away the Pat O'Brien's cup...so... no.
Times I saw the janitors from school -- twice
Dance clubs we hit -- two
Glitter all over me -- check
Success of after-Mardi Gras pancake breakfast at my house -- immense
Cute kids at the party in the Quarter -- present
Pictures taken by me -- 139...just today!
Bobby pins in hair -- countless
Rain -- held off until 9 p.m.!
Being off the rest of the week -- PRICELESS!
Sky -- Usually overcast, sometimes sunny
Breeze -- Present
Humidity -- check and double check
Number of friends who dressed with me -- 2
Number of times we were asked what we were and were stumped -- eleventy-billion
Strangers asking to take a picture with us -- many
Strangers who just took our pictures -- tons
Blisters on feet -- bleeding
Drinks -- strong
Old women's breasts seen -- too many...
Students walking alone down Bourbon Street who recognized me in costume -- one
Drink in my hand at that moment -- thankfully, had just thrown away the Pat O'Brien's cup...so... no.
Times I saw the janitors from school -- twice
Dance clubs we hit -- two
Glitter all over me -- check
Success of after-Mardi Gras pancake breakfast at my house -- immense
Cute kids at the party in the Quarter -- present
Pictures taken by me -- 139...just today!
Bobby pins in hair -- countless
Rain -- held off until 9 p.m.!
Being off the rest of the week -- PRICELESS!
Sunday, December 16, 2007
A look back
So this came in a MySpace bulletin, but I wanted to do longer answers, and add stuff, so I'm putting it here. I'm pretending someone is interviewing me.
1) Where did you begin 2007?
2007, as in 2005 and 2006, and will be in 2008, began at my brother's house, affectionately known as "The Cabin." We dress up, we serve hors d'oeurves, we drink, there may or may not be fireworks, we do some kissin' at midnight, and we celebrate loudly. Tons of people show up throughout the night, and it's always good fun. Each year gets bigger than the year before.
2) What was your status by Valentine's Day?
Still married, going on 5 years at that point. And we were still trying to win our house, so we were still living with my parents. I guess it was a double-date in teh house.
3) Were you in school (anytime this year)?
Thankfully, I was able to get a class in the fall. Spring didn't offer anything, and I jumped through a great many hoops, as UNO dropped me from the school and I had to reapply. Luckily, I kept my credits. Then, I had more trouble registering for spring '08, as once again, phantom blocks were on my account. But I was able to pass this course with an A, leaving three more classes and the final internship, which acts as student teaching. I will take all three classes in spring of '08, then the final internship in fall of '08, and then I will be an officially certified teacher. Due to the malarkey that UNO has put me through, I've decided to put the master's on hold until A. they can get their acts together or B. I can go somewhere else, preferably online. Do you know I entered the certification program in fall 2004, and I won't finish until fall 2008. I could have almost had a whole other bachelor's degree in the same amount of time.
4) How did you earn your money?
Same way as I have since 2005 -- teaching 7th and 8th graders language arts and assistant directing summer camp.
5) Did you have to go to the hospital?
I came awfully close in August when I was putting the finishing touches on my classroom and smashed my finger, spraining it in the process.
6) Did you have any encounters with the police?
So far, so good. We didn't have fireworks at the 4th of July this year, so we escaped it.
7) Where did you go on holiday?
Hm. This is a premature question. We will be in Walt Disney World with Mark's whole family from December 26-30. It will be our first trip together since our honeymoon in 2002. It will also be my first trip without being "on duty" with other peoples' children since then. I also took my students to Washington, D.C., and Williamsburg, VA. back in May.
8) What did you purchase that was over $1000?
Our house. That was a long and agonizing journey that I hope to not have to repeat for a very long time. But it has been well worth it. We've been here for about 6 months now, and we're still dealing with moving items in here, but it's pretty lived-in by now. We put up Christmas lights this afternoon and the tree earlier this week. We were very lucky...only our wreath was ruined in Katrina.
9) Did you know anybody who got married?
Melissa got engaged.
10) Did you know anybody who passed away?
Thankfully, not this year. I know of some people who died, but none have been close people.
12) Did you move anywhere?
Why, yes, as a matter of fact, we did. We bought our house in Old Metairie and moved in in the middle of May.
14) What concerts/shows did you go to?
It was a slow year for us. I think we only did Voodoo and Start Select.
15) Are you registered to vote?
Ha. I was still registered in Orleans. When we moved, I changed my address on my license but forgot to change my registration. I went to Orleans and changed it. I then had to send a confirmation card in. Then a few months later, I got a phone call telling me that they received the card, and now I have to go register in Jefferson. Apparently, the form is designed to look like I was reregistering, but Orleans is SO screwed up that it didn't do anything for me. I asked the lady on the phone for the address of where I should reregister, and she told me she didn't have that information in front of her. So right now, I'm not registered to vote.
16) Who did you want to win Big Brother?
I hate this show. I hate all of these "reality" shows. I care more about the piece of gum I threw away yesterday afternoon than I care about the answer to this question. The writer's strike should be resolved soon because I'm so scared....so very, very scared...of what is headed our way if we can't have writers.
17) Where do you live now?
I've told you twice already.
18) Describe your birthday?
We threw a party combining housewarming with my birthday. It was a lot of fun...tons of people...we broke in the new BBQ grill my parents gave me for my birthday....good drinks were served....got some presents....and then I had to go to work the next day, which was my birthday. It was Camp Open House. I spent most of my day there, then I went home, where Mark was watching Rocky. I hate Rocky. And it wasn Rocky II, actually, which made it worse. We ate leftovers for dinner and I got gifts from him, but it was actually an extremely crappy birthday.
19) What's one thing you thought you'd never do but did in 2007?
Get our own home.
20) What has been your favorite moment?
Signing the last form in the conference room at the bank, then being handed the keys to my very own home.
21) What's something you learned about yourself?
I can't do it all on my own. I'm no Superman.
22) Any new additions to your family?
Thankfully, no. But Geoff has a perfectly lovely new girlfriend, Rhea, whom we absolutely adore.
23.) What was your best month?
June, because we were moved in and settled and it was my birthday and camp and it wasn't quite so hot yet.
24.) What music will you remember 2007 by?
Well, since Katrina, our radio station choices (unless we want talk, urban, or country) are extremely limited, so I really don't know much about radio. I've been using CDs and my iPod.
25) Who has been your best drinking buddy?
We drink a lot at the Cabin.
26) Made new friends?
Our camp director this year, Li, is absolutely amazing and she and I were thick as thieves until camp ended. Mary, my new teaching partner, is lovely and will one day bring me Lost, season 2. And I got closer to some people I didn't know very well before, which is always a lovely thing.
27) New best friend?
Nope.
28) Favorite Night out?
St. Patrick's Day was fun, Halloween was fun, '80s night on Thanksgiving was fun, Mardi Gras was great, and my party was great fun. Love those adjectives.
1) Where did you begin 2007?
2007, as in 2005 and 2006, and will be in 2008, began at my brother's house, affectionately known as "The Cabin." We dress up, we serve hors d'oeurves, we drink, there may or may not be fireworks, we do some kissin' at midnight, and we celebrate loudly. Tons of people show up throughout the night, and it's always good fun. Each year gets bigger than the year before.
2) What was your status by Valentine's Day?
Still married, going on 5 years at that point. And we were still trying to win our house, so we were still living with my parents. I guess it was a double-date in teh house.
3) Were you in school (anytime this year)?
Thankfully, I was able to get a class in the fall. Spring didn't offer anything, and I jumped through a great many hoops, as UNO dropped me from the school and I had to reapply. Luckily, I kept my credits. Then, I had more trouble registering for spring '08, as once again, phantom blocks were on my account. But I was able to pass this course with an A, leaving three more classes and the final internship, which acts as student teaching. I will take all three classes in spring of '08, then the final internship in fall of '08, and then I will be an officially certified teacher. Due to the malarkey that UNO has put me through, I've decided to put the master's on hold until A. they can get their acts together or B. I can go somewhere else, preferably online. Do you know I entered the certification program in fall 2004, and I won't finish until fall 2008. I could have almost had a whole other bachelor's degree in the same amount of time.
4) How did you earn your money?
Same way as I have since 2005 -- teaching 7th and 8th graders language arts and assistant directing summer camp.
5) Did you have to go to the hospital?
I came awfully close in August when I was putting the finishing touches on my classroom and smashed my finger, spraining it in the process.
6) Did you have any encounters with the police?
So far, so good. We didn't have fireworks at the 4th of July this year, so we escaped it.
7) Where did you go on holiday?
Hm. This is a premature question. We will be in Walt Disney World with Mark's whole family from December 26-30. It will be our first trip together since our honeymoon in 2002. It will also be my first trip without being "on duty" with other peoples' children since then. I also took my students to Washington, D.C., and Williamsburg, VA. back in May.
8) What did you purchase that was over $1000?
Our house. That was a long and agonizing journey that I hope to not have to repeat for a very long time. But it has been well worth it. We've been here for about 6 months now, and we're still dealing with moving items in here, but it's pretty lived-in by now. We put up Christmas lights this afternoon and the tree earlier this week. We were very lucky...only our wreath was ruined in Katrina.
9) Did you know anybody who got married?
Melissa got engaged.
10) Did you know anybody who passed away?
Thankfully, not this year. I know of some people who died, but none have been close people.
12) Did you move anywhere?
Why, yes, as a matter of fact, we did. We bought our house in Old Metairie and moved in in the middle of May.
14) What concerts/shows did you go to?
It was a slow year for us. I think we only did Voodoo and Start Select.
15) Are you registered to vote?
Ha. I was still registered in Orleans. When we moved, I changed my address on my license but forgot to change my registration. I went to Orleans and changed it. I then had to send a confirmation card in. Then a few months later, I got a phone call telling me that they received the card, and now I have to go register in Jefferson. Apparently, the form is designed to look like I was reregistering, but Orleans is SO screwed up that it didn't do anything for me. I asked the lady on the phone for the address of where I should reregister, and she told me she didn't have that information in front of her. So right now, I'm not registered to vote.
16) Who did you want to win Big Brother?
I hate this show. I hate all of these "reality" shows. I care more about the piece of gum I threw away yesterday afternoon than I care about the answer to this question. The writer's strike should be resolved soon because I'm so scared....so very, very scared...of what is headed our way if we can't have writers.
17) Where do you live now?
I've told you twice already.
18) Describe your birthday?
We threw a party combining housewarming with my birthday. It was a lot of fun...tons of people...we broke in the new BBQ grill my parents gave me for my birthday....good drinks were served....got some presents....and then I had to go to work the next day, which was my birthday. It was Camp Open House. I spent most of my day there, then I went home, where Mark was watching Rocky. I hate Rocky. And it wasn Rocky II, actually, which made it worse. We ate leftovers for dinner and I got gifts from him, but it was actually an extremely crappy birthday.
19) What's one thing you thought you'd never do but did in 2007?
Get our own home.
20) What has been your favorite moment?
Signing the last form in the conference room at the bank, then being handed the keys to my very own home.
21) What's something you learned about yourself?
I can't do it all on my own. I'm no Superman.
22) Any new additions to your family?
Thankfully, no. But Geoff has a perfectly lovely new girlfriend, Rhea, whom we absolutely adore.
23.) What was your best month?
June, because we were moved in and settled and it was my birthday and camp and it wasn't quite so hot yet.
24.) What music will you remember 2007 by?
Well, since Katrina, our radio station choices (unless we want talk, urban, or country) are extremely limited, so I really don't know much about radio. I've been using CDs and my iPod.
25) Who has been your best drinking buddy?
We drink a lot at the Cabin.
26) Made new friends?
Our camp director this year, Li, is absolutely amazing and she and I were thick as thieves until camp ended. Mary, my new teaching partner, is lovely and will one day bring me Lost, season 2. And I got closer to some people I didn't know very well before, which is always a lovely thing.
27) New best friend?
Nope.
28) Favorite Night out?
St. Patrick's Day was fun, Halloween was fun, '80s night on Thanksgiving was fun, Mardi Gras was great, and my party was great fun. Love those adjectives.
Thursday, December 06, 2007
Quick update
I was about to post something a few weeks ago and didn't get around to it due to a major crisis in our life. Then I decided to wait until it was rectified.
We were running low on funds, so Mark got a part-time job at a local store that sells items special to a certain college in this state. They happen to be verrrrry busy this week.
A few weeks later, this part-time job was all he had. After five years, he was released from L.
Several dead-ends and many tearful weeks later, he has been promoted to full-time at this store, starting Monday. Benefits included. He also has an offer to go to a competing radio station, but it would be part-time with no benefits. So radio loses.
He is still looking for something else, which is current boss is aware of. That's how nice this lady must be. Anyway, if you see anything not radio, as he was already looking to get out of radio before being sacked anyway, let us know. We are NOT looking to relocate. We went through too much to put down roots when we bought this place. We may never move.....acts of God willing.
Also, Dad got our other shower working. Well, technically, Chris and Geoff did. But Dad finished it up top with Mark's help. Many thanks to my two younger brothers for climbing under my house and braving ancient trash bags filled with Tab cans in holes under there.
Happy Chanukah.
We were running low on funds, so Mark got a part-time job at a local store that sells items special to a certain college in this state. They happen to be verrrrry busy this week.
A few weeks later, this part-time job was all he had. After five years, he was released from L.
Several dead-ends and many tearful weeks later, he has been promoted to full-time at this store, starting Monday. Benefits included. He also has an offer to go to a competing radio station, but it would be part-time with no benefits. So radio loses.
He is still looking for something else, which is current boss is aware of. That's how nice this lady must be. Anyway, if you see anything not radio, as he was already looking to get out of radio before being sacked anyway, let us know. We are NOT looking to relocate. We went through too much to put down roots when we bought this place. We may never move.....acts of God willing.
Also, Dad got our other shower working. Well, technically, Chris and Geoff did. But Dad finished it up top with Mark's help. Many thanks to my two younger brothers for climbing under my house and braving ancient trash bags filled with Tab cans in holes under there.
Happy Chanukah.
Thursday, October 04, 2007
I like Pre-k and K from afar
And this time, I don't mean Katrina...but kindergarten.
I was subbing for a religion class yesterday, and the Pre-K/K room is right next door. I was leaving to go to meet my reading class upstairs, and one of teh Pre-K/K teachers stopped to chat. Then she said, "Oh, would you like a piece of apple pie? We're learning about the letter 'A' right now."
Who am I to refuse free apple pie?
So she brought me in and said, "Everyone, I have a special treat...this is Mrs. Aimée. What letter does her name start with?"
"Aaaaaaaaaaaaaa," came a chorus of tiny voices.
"That's right! So since her name also starts with 'A,' do you think she should get a piece of Apple pie?"
"Yessssssss...." came those same little voices.
The pie was delicious. I wrote them a thank you note today. It said:
"Dear Pre-K/K,
Thank you for the Awesome Apple pie! I Absolutely Adore Apple pie! I Apologize for not being Able to eat your Animal crackers, too, but I Ate too much Apple pie! You guys Are Amazing!
Always,
Mrs. Aimée"
I hope they like that. I hear that today they were having ants on a log. I think that's my happiest memory of being in preschool.
Boy, life sure was simple then. They were going to have naptime after their pie. I was hoping I'd be invited to that, but I really didn't want to risk getting cooties from someone's mat...
I was subbing for a religion class yesterday, and the Pre-K/K room is right next door. I was leaving to go to meet my reading class upstairs, and one of teh Pre-K/K teachers stopped to chat. Then she said, "Oh, would you like a piece of apple pie? We're learning about the letter 'A' right now."
Who am I to refuse free apple pie?
So she brought me in and said, "Everyone, I have a special treat...this is Mrs. Aimée. What letter does her name start with?"
"Aaaaaaaaaaaaaa," came a chorus of tiny voices.
"That's right! So since her name also starts with 'A,' do you think she should get a piece of Apple pie?"
"Yessssssss...." came those same little voices.
The pie was delicious. I wrote them a thank you note today. It said:
"Dear Pre-K/K,
Thank you for the Awesome Apple pie! I Absolutely Adore Apple pie! I Apologize for not being Able to eat your Animal crackers, too, but I Ate too much Apple pie! You guys Are Amazing!
Always,
Mrs. Aimée"
I hope they like that. I hear that today they were having ants on a log. I think that's my happiest memory of being in preschool.
Boy, life sure was simple then. They were going to have naptime after their pie. I was hoping I'd be invited to that, but I really didn't want to risk getting cooties from someone's mat...
Wednesday, August 29, 2007
I wish I knew the person to whom I could attribute this...
I had someone send me this. It's kind of a neat perspective.
Also, thank you, listeners of WIBC in Indiana, for inviting me to tell a microscopic portion of my tale to you this morning. I hope it helped bring things into perspective, and if you've found your way over here, I thank you. Please, stay a while...and stay tuned.
And, if you would like my brother's perspective, visit him at www.frobba.com . He has a link on there to the documentary he made last year.
That's it from me today...I have some more thoughts, brought up by my students' journals...but here's the poem or meditation or prayer or whatnot. If anyone can identify the author, let me know, as I'd like to give credit where credit is due.
Thank you for letting me understand
homelessness, living without power,
without television, without cool air in the heat.
Thank you for letting me understand
hunger, the pleasure of dry clean clothes and
the relief of place to sleep.
Thank you for letting me understand
the deep and overwhelming sadness
when forces, beyond our personal control,
take the loved, the familiar, the usual.
Thank you for my needfulness and
Thank you for my newfound empathy
for those were homeless before the storm
and homeless now, for those hungry
anywhere, for those in need everywhere.
Thank you for the opportunity you provided
to help my neighbor, to be my brother’s keeper,
to serve food, to patch roofs, to clear yards,
and to start mending that which was broken.
Thank you for the chance to change ourselves,
from a reprieve from the normal commercial day,
for teaching us to make do, to get by, to improvise,
for drowning our conceit, complacency, callousness
for silencing the noise , for stopping the clock,
and for the chance to act our best when the worst occurred.
Thank you for the people who reached in
pulled out the living, cradled the dead,
comforted the broken and torn apart,
wept for the splintered and uprooted.
Thank you for the people who didn’t wait
who came right away, who opened their homes,
who emptied their shelves, their closets,
who cleaned, fed , healed, held us,
who told us our spirit was amazing,
and who keep on coming.
Thank you for people who measure
their faith by their actions, and measure
their action by its consistency with their faith.
Thank you for all the people we have met,
who are new friends, new loved ones,
new brothers and sisters, new neighbors.
Thank you Katrina. Not for wind,
not for water, but for the appreciation
of the things no storm can shatter,
no water can wash away,
no wind can move.
Also, thank you, listeners of WIBC in Indiana, for inviting me to tell a microscopic portion of my tale to you this morning. I hope it helped bring things into perspective, and if you've found your way over here, I thank you. Please, stay a while...and stay tuned.
And, if you would like my brother's perspective, visit him at www.frobba.com . He has a link on there to the documentary he made last year.
That's it from me today...I have some more thoughts, brought up by my students' journals...but here's the poem or meditation or prayer or whatnot. If anyone can identify the author, let me know, as I'd like to give credit where credit is due.
Thank you for letting me understand
homelessness, living without power,
without television, without cool air in the heat.
Thank you for letting me understand
hunger, the pleasure of dry clean clothes and
the relief of place to sleep.
Thank you for letting me understand
the deep and overwhelming sadness
when forces, beyond our personal control,
take the loved, the familiar, the usual.
Thank you for my needfulness and
Thank you for my newfound empathy
for those were homeless before the storm
and homeless now, for those hungry
anywhere, for those in need everywhere.
Thank you for the opportunity you provided
to help my neighbor, to be my brother’s keeper,
to serve food, to patch roofs, to clear yards,
and to start mending that which was broken.
Thank you for the chance to change ourselves,
from a reprieve from the normal commercial day,
for teaching us to make do, to get by, to improvise,
for drowning our conceit, complacency, callousness
for silencing the noise , for stopping the clock,
and for the chance to act our best when the worst occurred.
Thank you for the people who reached in
pulled out the living, cradled the dead,
comforted the broken and torn apart,
wept for the splintered and uprooted.
Thank you for the people who didn’t wait
who came right away, who opened their homes,
who emptied their shelves, their closets,
who cleaned, fed , healed, held us,
who told us our spirit was amazing,
and who keep on coming.
Thank you for people who measure
their faith by their actions, and measure
their action by its consistency with their faith.
Thank you for all the people we have met,
who are new friends, new loved ones,
new brothers and sisters, new neighbors.
Thank you Katrina. Not for wind,
not for water, but for the appreciation
of the things no storm can shatter,
no water can wash away,
no wind can move.
Monday, August 27, 2007
A P.S.
http://blog.nola.com/updates/2007/08/neighborhood_touchstones_lost.html
I wish I'd seen this article before blogging. That's what I get for putting pleasure before responsibility.
Everyone has always had a list of "I miss..." in this city. It's part of our charm. Mark has found it annoying, asking why we can't let go of things. We can't. I guess that's the best reason as to why we're here, all of us returnees. From my childhood, but before Katrina, I miss K&B. Rite Aid is CRAP. And, most importantly, they don't have a color to call their own or the best damned ice cream you've ever tasted.
I miss McKenzie's. Thank God Tastee has picked up the recipe they had for king cakes. I just wish they'd bring back the cheesecake, the yellow cake with chocolate icing, the petit fours, and those awesome cookies that only came out at holidays...the large orange and black stripes...the Christmas trees....oh, what I wouldn't give for those. And Thanksgiving isn't the same without "pocket books," the Parker House rolls. Brown-n-serves are just nasty.
And D.H. Holmes and Dino's frozen yogurt and Maison Blanche and Fitzgerald's....it's just a bygone era.
But those have been gone for a while. Sure, every Mardi Gras, we mention McKenzie's, and while I've cultivated a taste for Blue Bell, I miss K&B. I remember that time when I was a senior, proudly sporting my purple senior sweater and my school uniform, and having a lady tap my shoulder and ask me where something was, thinking that I worked there.
We even lost local characters, from Nash Roberts and his grease pencils (take that, Super Dopplers!) to Buddy D, a man Mark was lucky enough to get to know before his death.
But nothing tops what we've lost. Some of it has come back, and soemtimes it's different. But it's not quite the same. I miss walking into Bayou Bagelry and having them start my order for me before I got to the counter.
I miss the funky handwritten and misspelled signs with "clever" sayings on them in Charlie's Deli on Harrison Ave. Touché Café is nice and all, but I miss the old seediness of my favorite neighborhood po-boy place. I mean, "What goes slap thud, slap thud, slap thud? My mama's hand upside your head if you throw away our trays!" and the playing card order claimers are nowhere else in this city.
Bubby's has a decent snowball, but it's no Phil's Firehouse, also known as Fireman Phil's. When I told people I lived across the street from it, they knew right where my house was. My friend Jeff lived in New Orleans East, and HE knew where it was. What about that day we had a bunch of my coworkers over for a party, and Kevin and Keith and Alex showed up with extra large stuffed "ice cream" snowballs with condensed milk on top? While Bubby's carries that, and has updated and improved upon the facility, I have a harder time describing where my former house was. I just say "Fleur de Lis in Lakeview, a block from Harrison Ave" now.
Oddly enough, we have an iPod on random, and it's playing "The Saints Are Coming" by Green Day and U2. Eerie.
I hate driving past Plantation Coffee House every now and then. It's so sad and decrepit looking. I remember the last time I ate there, when mark had a tire changed at the tire place across the street. We ate lunch there after we picked up his car. It was such a lovely afternoon.
Thankfully, amongst the places that have returned are my father's service station in Lakeview and Tony Angelo's, also across the street from where I lived. My parents ate there recently, and they said it was as good as ever. But Dino's pizza, down the block, is gone. I found a flier that we'd grabbed when evacuating (we took all of our mail to pay bills) and was sad that I didn't get to redeem that coupon.
Most of the places, if not all, that I have listed are food-related. In fact, the grocery store next to my dad is gone. I often think to myself that I'll stop there while getting gas, and then remember that I actually have to go far away. But this city, allegedly built on jazz, was built on food. It is a symbol of family and friendship, two things we cherish deeply here. You gather over a meal for births, weddings, funerals...and every occasion in between. You bond over food. You talk about food. You worship food. At St. Patrick's Day parades, you catch cabbage and potatoes and carrots, and at St. Joseph's Day, you make an altar of food...tons of food...at Mardi Gras, you gorge yourself silly before you abstain during Lent. You eat a turducken at Thanksgiving, go to a crawfish boil at Easter, and barbecue year-round. In the case of my parents, you even barbecue during a tropical storm. Hey...we had to eat! At a wake, you celebrate with food and wine, and there's always a trip to the Roman Candy cart when you go to the Zoo.
Houses of friends we knew and neighbors we knew are gone. Aunts and uncles, best friends and casual friends...many of us never could go home again.
But we're making new homes, by purchasing some, by rebuilding some, by renovating some. But it will never be the same. All of those things you bought when you got married, all of those gifts from long-dead relatives, the memories of childhood and teen years and college years and adulthood are gone, decomposing in a fetid pile somewhere. And there's nothing you can do about it. At times it hurts more than you think you can bear. At times you beat yourself up for feeling materialistic. At times you are numb and don't care. But we press forward, because we have to. We must.
To remember those people and places. To remember those things. To heal our lady, our love, our temptress, New Orleans.
I wish I'd seen this article before blogging. That's what I get for putting pleasure before responsibility.
Everyone has always had a list of "I miss..." in this city. It's part of our charm. Mark has found it annoying, asking why we can't let go of things. We can't. I guess that's the best reason as to why we're here, all of us returnees. From my childhood, but before Katrina, I miss K&B. Rite Aid is CRAP. And, most importantly, they don't have a color to call their own or the best damned ice cream you've ever tasted.
I miss McKenzie's. Thank God Tastee has picked up the recipe they had for king cakes. I just wish they'd bring back the cheesecake, the yellow cake with chocolate icing, the petit fours, and those awesome cookies that only came out at holidays...the large orange and black stripes...the Christmas trees....oh, what I wouldn't give for those. And Thanksgiving isn't the same without "pocket books," the Parker House rolls. Brown-n-serves are just nasty.
And D.H. Holmes and Dino's frozen yogurt and Maison Blanche and Fitzgerald's....it's just a bygone era.
But those have been gone for a while. Sure, every Mardi Gras, we mention McKenzie's, and while I've cultivated a taste for Blue Bell, I miss K&B. I remember that time when I was a senior, proudly sporting my purple senior sweater and my school uniform, and having a lady tap my shoulder and ask me where something was, thinking that I worked there.
We even lost local characters, from Nash Roberts and his grease pencils (take that, Super Dopplers!) to Buddy D, a man Mark was lucky enough to get to know before his death.
But nothing tops what we've lost. Some of it has come back, and soemtimes it's different. But it's not quite the same. I miss walking into Bayou Bagelry and having them start my order for me before I got to the counter.
I miss the funky handwritten and misspelled signs with "clever" sayings on them in Charlie's Deli on Harrison Ave. Touché Café is nice and all, but I miss the old seediness of my favorite neighborhood po-boy place. I mean, "What goes slap thud, slap thud, slap thud? My mama's hand upside your head if you throw away our trays!" and the playing card order claimers are nowhere else in this city.
Bubby's has a decent snowball, but it's no Phil's Firehouse, also known as Fireman Phil's. When I told people I lived across the street from it, they knew right where my house was. My friend Jeff lived in New Orleans East, and HE knew where it was. What about that day we had a bunch of my coworkers over for a party, and Kevin and Keith and Alex showed up with extra large stuffed "ice cream" snowballs with condensed milk on top? While Bubby's carries that, and has updated and improved upon the facility, I have a harder time describing where my former house was. I just say "Fleur de Lis in Lakeview, a block from Harrison Ave" now.
Oddly enough, we have an iPod on random, and it's playing "The Saints Are Coming" by Green Day and U2. Eerie.
I hate driving past Plantation Coffee House every now and then. It's so sad and decrepit looking. I remember the last time I ate there, when mark had a tire changed at the tire place across the street. We ate lunch there after we picked up his car. It was such a lovely afternoon.
Thankfully, amongst the places that have returned are my father's service station in Lakeview and Tony Angelo's, also across the street from where I lived. My parents ate there recently, and they said it was as good as ever. But Dino's pizza, down the block, is gone. I found a flier that we'd grabbed when evacuating (we took all of our mail to pay bills) and was sad that I didn't get to redeem that coupon.
Most of the places, if not all, that I have listed are food-related. In fact, the grocery store next to my dad is gone. I often think to myself that I'll stop there while getting gas, and then remember that I actually have to go far away. But this city, allegedly built on jazz, was built on food. It is a symbol of family and friendship, two things we cherish deeply here. You gather over a meal for births, weddings, funerals...and every occasion in between. You bond over food. You talk about food. You worship food. At St. Patrick's Day parades, you catch cabbage and potatoes and carrots, and at St. Joseph's Day, you make an altar of food...tons of food...at Mardi Gras, you gorge yourself silly before you abstain during Lent. You eat a turducken at Thanksgiving, go to a crawfish boil at Easter, and barbecue year-round. In the case of my parents, you even barbecue during a tropical storm. Hey...we had to eat! At a wake, you celebrate with food and wine, and there's always a trip to the Roman Candy cart when you go to the Zoo.
Houses of friends we knew and neighbors we knew are gone. Aunts and uncles, best friends and casual friends...many of us never could go home again.
But we're making new homes, by purchasing some, by rebuilding some, by renovating some. But it will never be the same. All of those things you bought when you got married, all of those gifts from long-dead relatives, the memories of childhood and teen years and college years and adulthood are gone, decomposing in a fetid pile somewhere. And there's nothing you can do about it. At times it hurts more than you think you can bear. At times you beat yourself up for feeling materialistic. At times you are numb and don't care. But we press forward, because we have to. We must.
To remember those people and places. To remember those things. To heal our lady, our love, our temptress, New Orleans.
I say 'Hey! What's going on?'
A new school year has fallen upon us, to the chagrin of the scholastic aged everywhere. Or, at least, those in the south. Which brings up an interesting question. Hold on while I wipe that bead of sweat rolling down my back.......ahhh. Oops. There's another. Ok.
Anyway, WHY THE HELL DO THEY MAKE US GO BACK TO SCHOOL IN EARLY AUGUST WHEN IT'S SO FRIGGIN'HOT HERE!?!?!?! There are a million and 12 days better to start school than August 14. I mean, really. I don't mind getting out in early June if it means we start in September. I had two window units, two ceiling fans, and a bottle of deodorant in my desk, but I sweat profusely. Part of this is because they're rewiring the school for better Internet capabilities. "Gee, what does that have to do with you sweating?" you ask? Well, I'll tell you. I am on the second floor. Heat rises, right? Well, it also tends to filter down through missing ceiling tiles from the attic of the school and into my cooler classroom. More specifically, right above my desk! Thank God last year's rodent problem was solved. Mmmm...Post-Katrina Mid-City New Orleans! God, if this had been last year... Ugh. I'm grossing myself out.
Other than that and the way they keep tinkering with our schedules, school is the best year yet. No evil bitch teaching partners. Nothing but helpful teaching partners who get involved as far as my eyes can see this year. People splitting journal-reading duties, no one treating my like I'm incompetent...I am teaching just as many classes, plus working on updating the school website, plus running a club by myself, plus having a homeroom this year...yet I'm so much more relaxed. I'm ENJOYING myself again. This is what it's supposed to be.
First, my homeroom is amazing. I love, love, love them. I had half of them last year as 7th graders for both reading and writing. This year, they are 8th graders. Got a bunch of cool new kids and the 6th graders who moved into 7th this year are awesome. Including a former camper from the Day School. Love her. Everyone agrees that my homeroom is the best. They enjoy having them. I think I may get back into baking at holidays. I did that my first year for my homeroom. Last year, I didn't care and was stressed too much to be bothered. This year, it's a whole new ballgame.
Also, they listened to me. Do you know how much it means to have a boss who listens to you and takes your suggestions to heart? It's so rare to find in today's world, where everyone is replaceable, and if you don't like the way it's run, you get a pink slip. But last year was rough. Let me backtrack to every year until last year:
Our student-teacher ratio is 18:1. Sometimes, after the storm, we've gone over that. We co-teach in many subjects, and the two teachers split the room into two groups and teach on opposite sides of the room for reading and math, (with a 9:1 ratio) while one does science and the other does social studies to the whole class. Their co-curriculars and religion classes are together, too. Writing would be half and half, but the ratio there is 9:2.
Then, last year, we departmentalized. We had two reading and two math teachers co-teaching in the same room at the same time the same subjects. In reading, this is hard. The reading teachers tend to be dynamic. If we were in different books, or different parts of the same book, even, it was very disrupting to hear a round of "HUZZAH" from the other side of the room. And for writing, it was two teachers, as usual, but 18:2. Not the 9:2 we'd had before. And it was impossible to keep up. I'll be the first to admit that our students were cheated. As you may recall, we teach children with learning differences. These differences could be ADHD, Dyslexia, OCD, Asperger's Syndrome, and a billion and one other things that hurt you in "regular" school, but keep you out of special ed. We're the bridge between. Our low ratios are paramount to the success of our program. And it wasn't working last year.
This year, we have two rooms available for reading. Two teachers, two rooms, 8 or so kids per group (since we aren't at capacity yet). It's peaceful, relaxing, and "noncompetitive." This year, we are still putting all of them in one class for writing, but a third teacher filters in. For two of those classes, we have an extra room available, so we can pull smaller groups out for individualized attention.
Again, it's a whole different atmosphere. I feel like the kids are going to get the attention they deserve this year, and that they will learn a lot more in the process.
I'm moderating media club again, so that's good. And, Sabrina, a fellow teacher, and I are going to coach the bowling team. It's our first year of sports! We finally have a senior class, after 3 years of steady growth and hurricane interruption. There's 7 of them, but by golly, we have a senior class!
The house is at a standstill of sorts. It is too hot to do anything else outside. Gardening will have to wait, as will painting the rest of the outside. Dad put mortar in the brick gaps and we painted the front, but we are afraid of heat stroke. It's slowly starting to cool off here, though. In the next few weeks, we can move back to the outside.
Inside, we just got a garbage disposal this weekend, and our dishwasher is being delivered Friday. I grew up with both of these luxuries, plus we had a dishwasher in our old house. I have had enough of plastic and paper goods, as well as dishpan hands. I won't use gloves. Sorry. Just a few more days.
Started up at UNO again last week. One class on Tuesdays this semester. They only offered one of my three available, remaining classes. Joy. Well, three plus the third "internship," followed by the capstone internship/student teaching semester. Maybe 2008? But this frustration over this formerly great university has halted my master's pursuit. I have given it up in favor of only my certification. Maybe someday, if they get their act together, I'll get that hood I covet so badly.
The anniversary of Katrina, number 2, is this Wednesday. I can't tell you that it weighs heavily on my mind. There isn't a day I don't think about it. There's still so much work to be done. Lakeview at night is great, simply because I can see how many places have lights on. Mid-City, where my school is, is largely back. Sometimes, I'll sit in the house and feel content, but then I remember what got me here. The other day, we were unpacking a box that was in our attic, and I found the most inane keepsakes from college. But did I throw them away? Hell no. They're all that remain of a former life. They're going nowhere, no matter how useless they seem.
When Dean was making a beeline for the Gulf, I had the worst sense of losing it all again. God...can I put up with that? I don't think so. I mean, this time, we're homeowners, so the insurance would be way better. And Mark refuses to stay again. So we'd get to load both cars. But two cars of stuff is ridiculous. I really questioned our decision to return. But then I realized that to leave would kill me slowly. I have to stay right now. I have to help revive my city. Call me crazy if you will, but can you truly dedicate yourself to any one place? There's something about her...something so seedy and sultry and splendid and swampy and steamy and tons of other things my lisp won't let me say. Call me crazy, but I love her.
Anyway, WHY THE HELL DO THEY MAKE US GO BACK TO SCHOOL IN EARLY AUGUST WHEN IT'S SO FRIGGIN'HOT HERE!?!?!?! There are a million and 12 days better to start school than August 14. I mean, really. I don't mind getting out in early June if it means we start in September. I had two window units, two ceiling fans, and a bottle of deodorant in my desk, but I sweat profusely. Part of this is because they're rewiring the school for better Internet capabilities. "Gee, what does that have to do with you sweating?" you ask? Well, I'll tell you. I am on the second floor. Heat rises, right? Well, it also tends to filter down through missing ceiling tiles from the attic of the school and into my cooler classroom. More specifically, right above my desk! Thank God last year's rodent problem was solved. Mmmm...Post-Katrina Mid-City New Orleans! God, if this had been last year... Ugh. I'm grossing myself out.
Other than that and the way they keep tinkering with our schedules, school is the best year yet. No evil bitch teaching partners. Nothing but helpful teaching partners who get involved as far as my eyes can see this year. People splitting journal-reading duties, no one treating my like I'm incompetent...I am teaching just as many classes, plus working on updating the school website, plus running a club by myself, plus having a homeroom this year...yet I'm so much more relaxed. I'm ENJOYING myself again. This is what it's supposed to be.
First, my homeroom is amazing. I love, love, love them. I had half of them last year as 7th graders for both reading and writing. This year, they are 8th graders. Got a bunch of cool new kids and the 6th graders who moved into 7th this year are awesome. Including a former camper from the Day School. Love her. Everyone agrees that my homeroom is the best. They enjoy having them. I think I may get back into baking at holidays. I did that my first year for my homeroom. Last year, I didn't care and was stressed too much to be bothered. This year, it's a whole new ballgame.
Also, they listened to me. Do you know how much it means to have a boss who listens to you and takes your suggestions to heart? It's so rare to find in today's world, where everyone is replaceable, and if you don't like the way it's run, you get a pink slip. But last year was rough. Let me backtrack to every year until last year:
Our student-teacher ratio is 18:1. Sometimes, after the storm, we've gone over that. We co-teach in many subjects, and the two teachers split the room into two groups and teach on opposite sides of the room for reading and math, (with a 9:1 ratio) while one does science and the other does social studies to the whole class. Their co-curriculars and religion classes are together, too. Writing would be half and half, but the ratio there is 9:2.
Then, last year, we departmentalized. We had two reading and two math teachers co-teaching in the same room at the same time the same subjects. In reading, this is hard. The reading teachers tend to be dynamic. If we were in different books, or different parts of the same book, even, it was very disrupting to hear a round of "HUZZAH" from the other side of the room. And for writing, it was two teachers, as usual, but 18:2. Not the 9:2 we'd had before. And it was impossible to keep up. I'll be the first to admit that our students were cheated. As you may recall, we teach children with learning differences. These differences could be ADHD, Dyslexia, OCD, Asperger's Syndrome, and a billion and one other things that hurt you in "regular" school, but keep you out of special ed. We're the bridge between. Our low ratios are paramount to the success of our program. And it wasn't working last year.
This year, we have two rooms available for reading. Two teachers, two rooms, 8 or so kids per group (since we aren't at capacity yet). It's peaceful, relaxing, and "noncompetitive." This year, we are still putting all of them in one class for writing, but a third teacher filters in. For two of those classes, we have an extra room available, so we can pull smaller groups out for individualized attention.
Again, it's a whole different atmosphere. I feel like the kids are going to get the attention they deserve this year, and that they will learn a lot more in the process.
I'm moderating media club again, so that's good. And, Sabrina, a fellow teacher, and I are going to coach the bowling team. It's our first year of sports! We finally have a senior class, after 3 years of steady growth and hurricane interruption. There's 7 of them, but by golly, we have a senior class!
The house is at a standstill of sorts. It is too hot to do anything else outside. Gardening will have to wait, as will painting the rest of the outside. Dad put mortar in the brick gaps and we painted the front, but we are afraid of heat stroke. It's slowly starting to cool off here, though. In the next few weeks, we can move back to the outside.
Inside, we just got a garbage disposal this weekend, and our dishwasher is being delivered Friday. I grew up with both of these luxuries, plus we had a dishwasher in our old house. I have had enough of plastic and paper goods, as well as dishpan hands. I won't use gloves. Sorry. Just a few more days.
Started up at UNO again last week. One class on Tuesdays this semester. They only offered one of my three available, remaining classes. Joy. Well, three plus the third "internship," followed by the capstone internship/student teaching semester. Maybe 2008? But this frustration over this formerly great university has halted my master's pursuit. I have given it up in favor of only my certification. Maybe someday, if they get their act together, I'll get that hood I covet so badly.
The anniversary of Katrina, number 2, is this Wednesday. I can't tell you that it weighs heavily on my mind. There isn't a day I don't think about it. There's still so much work to be done. Lakeview at night is great, simply because I can see how many places have lights on. Mid-City, where my school is, is largely back. Sometimes, I'll sit in the house and feel content, but then I remember what got me here. The other day, we were unpacking a box that was in our attic, and I found the most inane keepsakes from college. But did I throw them away? Hell no. They're all that remain of a former life. They're going nowhere, no matter how useless they seem.
When Dean was making a beeline for the Gulf, I had the worst sense of losing it all again. God...can I put up with that? I don't think so. I mean, this time, we're homeowners, so the insurance would be way better. And Mark refuses to stay again. So we'd get to load both cars. But two cars of stuff is ridiculous. I really questioned our decision to return. But then I realized that to leave would kill me slowly. I have to stay right now. I have to help revive my city. Call me crazy if you will, but can you truly dedicate yourself to any one place? There's something about her...something so seedy and sultry and splendid and swampy and steamy and tons of other things my lisp won't let me say. Call me crazy, but I love her.
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