Monday, December 29, 2008
Crystal Ball
Sarah Palin's daughter had a baby boy today, according to People magazine, which I saw in a Yahoo! headline. Now here's the conundrum I see: what are all of those Sarah Palin supporters going to do when their daughters start getting pregnant at an early age, and think it's okay because of girls like Sarah Palin's daughter? Can you imagine the argument? "But mom, there are others who have done it! Just look at Sarah Palin's daughter." I can see it now in the headlines, and it will be beautiful.
Friday, December 26, 2008
January 1986
There once was a time when school was canceled for two weeks. In the forecasts which led up to a blizzard, our local meteorologist, Charles Middleton, who often forecasted the weather through long, under-breath belches, told us all not to worry; the storm would be only a small shower, a flurry at best.
The day before the storm came, I sat in my mom's car outside of my piano teacher's house while we waited for my sister to finish her lesson. The sky was a steel sheet of gray, and not a single sun beam shone through. My classmates and I spoke of the snow, and even though we were told there would only be flurries, we still held out hope for a cataclysmic storm that would shut down schools and ring in the days of play and sleep. Looking at that sky, I knew there was hope for more than a flurry.
That night I chose not to do my homework. I placed my bets on school closing. It was a risky bet to make, for the odds were more in favor for us going to school than not going. Still, I took my chances.
The next next morning my new radio alarm clock, given to me just that previous Christmas, blared those poppy 80s tunes, and in the midst, the DJ crooned, "Bedford County Schools are closed!" Could it be?
Upon hearing this I jumped out of bed and peered outside of my bedroom window. Unfortunately, when one lives out in the country, there are no street lights to shed any light on whether or not it snowed the night before. I touched the glass, and sure enough, it was very cold. Just cold enough, I thought, to bring snow.
I ran downstairs. No one was awake yet. I tip-toed over the cold slate floor in the foyer and went to the front door to turn on the outside floodlights to witness the glorious event that unfolded before my eyes. Snow. Everywhere. The sidewalk leading up to the house was completely covered, and even better, the grass, which was the true measure of the snow's depth, had been put to sleep by the vast blanket of snow. I quickly turned out the light, ran back upstairs and quietly jumped back into my still-warm bed and hoped there would be even more of the delicious white goodness the next time I awoke.
I awoke again around eight. The snow came down in downy white puffs, and I could barely see the old gray tobacco barn which stood two hundred feet from my room. I turned on the radio and heard the DJ excitedly list off the many school districts that had to close that day. I was elated, not only because of the snow, but also because of the bet I placed, and won. Surely no teacher would remember that homework, right?
My dad was not so pleased. As the owner and manager of a small furniture refinishing company, he had to get to work. The only problem was that back then, no one plowed the roads out in rural Virginia. (Incidentally, this is why I do not want to live out in the country ever again.) Still, he thought, he had to be at work. He stood at the back porch to our house and grimaced at the thermometer while saying, "This isn't a blizzard! It's thirty-three degrees!" I contended that the temperature didn't matter, it was still a blizzard. I didn't understand why he wasn't excited too!
After dressing in layer upon layer, my dad climbed aboard our John Deer tractor, turned on the ignitions and gurgled and roared his way down the country road. He had to go at least ten miles to get to work. At a speed of about seven miles an hour, it would take him over an hour to get each way to work. As an uprooted New Yorker, I doubt he ever thought it would take him an hour to get to work ever again. But then, he never really knew how life in the country could really be.
The snow lasted for days and days. Each time it snowed, I did a snow dance in the living room. After a while my parents thought it was working and they asked me to stop dancing.
My mom didn't have an easy time with the snow either. While my dad ran the business, she ran the horse stable. At that time we had close to fifteen horses. The barn was three-quarters of a mile down the road, which isn't far, but it may as well have been twenty miles away when we had no four-wheel drive vehicles and a foot and a half of snow, with drifts up to three feet, in between you and the barn.
One day, I had actually become bored of the snow, and my mom decided to take me with her up to the barn. Along with us we took our Golden Retriever, Buster. My mom stood at a height of five feet three inches, and I was a little over four feet tall and only weighed about eighty pounds, give or take. We needed help getting through the snow, and Buster was our only choice. As we trudged our way up to the barn, there were times when the snow was so deep that I was in it up to my chest. I grabbed hold of Buster's collar to help me get through the drifts. Even though he was smaller than me, he was lighter, so his paws didn't go all the way down to the ground. He made for an excellent anchor. After a good, long time, we made it up to the barn. I helped water the horses while my mom fed them their mix of oats and barley. After spending only half an hour in the barn, we turned around and did it all over again. To this day, I have never been as cold and wet as I was on that day.
During those two weeks I discovered the warm joy that is oatmeal. There is nothing else that will completely fill your stomach and warm a cold body more than oatmeal. I also discovered that banana oatmeal is NOT very good.
I discovered how to make beaded bracelets and dresses out of scrap fabric. I also played with my Barbies and cleaned my room, which was a rarity in those days. I saw my dad plow the driveway many times, and much to his chagrin, a new snow shower came, as if to say, "Enough! Take a break! Relax!"
Eventually the snow stopped and life continued as usual. We lost our Spring Break to the snow, which was okay for me because I was sick for that whole week anyway, since I had bronchitis; I had my vacation anyway.
There are simple dreams and wishes of children everywhere. Among the wishes: a huge birthday cake for your birthday, a dollar bill for losing a tooth, and no matter where a child lives, the hope that snow will bring rest and play to those most deserving. As an adult living in a coastal area, I easily think we will not have snow. But then again, I also know that some forecasters get it wrong.
The day before the storm came, I sat in my mom's car outside of my piano teacher's house while we waited for my sister to finish her lesson. The sky was a steel sheet of gray, and not a single sun beam shone through. My classmates and I spoke of the snow, and even though we were told there would only be flurries, we still held out hope for a cataclysmic storm that would shut down schools and ring in the days of play and sleep. Looking at that sky, I knew there was hope for more than a flurry.
That night I chose not to do my homework. I placed my bets on school closing. It was a risky bet to make, for the odds were more in favor for us going to school than not going. Still, I took my chances.
The next next morning my new radio alarm clock, given to me just that previous Christmas, blared those poppy 80s tunes, and in the midst, the DJ crooned, "Bedford County Schools are closed!" Could it be?
Upon hearing this I jumped out of bed and peered outside of my bedroom window. Unfortunately, when one lives out in the country, there are no street lights to shed any light on whether or not it snowed the night before. I touched the glass, and sure enough, it was very cold. Just cold enough, I thought, to bring snow.
I ran downstairs. No one was awake yet. I tip-toed over the cold slate floor in the foyer and went to the front door to turn on the outside floodlights to witness the glorious event that unfolded before my eyes. Snow. Everywhere. The sidewalk leading up to the house was completely covered, and even better, the grass, which was the true measure of the snow's depth, had been put to sleep by the vast blanket of snow. I quickly turned out the light, ran back upstairs and quietly jumped back into my still-warm bed and hoped there would be even more of the delicious white goodness the next time I awoke.
I awoke again around eight. The snow came down in downy white puffs, and I could barely see the old gray tobacco barn which stood two hundred feet from my room. I turned on the radio and heard the DJ excitedly list off the many school districts that had to close that day. I was elated, not only because of the snow, but also because of the bet I placed, and won. Surely no teacher would remember that homework, right?
My dad was not so pleased. As the owner and manager of a small furniture refinishing company, he had to get to work. The only problem was that back then, no one plowed the roads out in rural Virginia. (Incidentally, this is why I do not want to live out in the country ever again.) Still, he thought, he had to be at work. He stood at the back porch to our house and grimaced at the thermometer while saying, "This isn't a blizzard! It's thirty-three degrees!" I contended that the temperature didn't matter, it was still a blizzard. I didn't understand why he wasn't excited too!
After dressing in layer upon layer, my dad climbed aboard our John Deer tractor, turned on the ignitions and gurgled and roared his way down the country road. He had to go at least ten miles to get to work. At a speed of about seven miles an hour, it would take him over an hour to get each way to work. As an uprooted New Yorker, I doubt he ever thought it would take him an hour to get to work ever again. But then, he never really knew how life in the country could really be.
The snow lasted for days and days. Each time it snowed, I did a snow dance in the living room. After a while my parents thought it was working and they asked me to stop dancing.
My mom didn't have an easy time with the snow either. While my dad ran the business, she ran the horse stable. At that time we had close to fifteen horses. The barn was three-quarters of a mile down the road, which isn't far, but it may as well have been twenty miles away when we had no four-wheel drive vehicles and a foot and a half of snow, with drifts up to three feet, in between you and the barn.
One day, I had actually become bored of the snow, and my mom decided to take me with her up to the barn. Along with us we took our Golden Retriever, Buster. My mom stood at a height of five feet three inches, and I was a little over four feet tall and only weighed about eighty pounds, give or take. We needed help getting through the snow, and Buster was our only choice. As we trudged our way up to the barn, there were times when the snow was so deep that I was in it up to my chest. I grabbed hold of Buster's collar to help me get through the drifts. Even though he was smaller than me, he was lighter, so his paws didn't go all the way down to the ground. He made for an excellent anchor. After a good, long time, we made it up to the barn. I helped water the horses while my mom fed them their mix of oats and barley. After spending only half an hour in the barn, we turned around and did it all over again. To this day, I have never been as cold and wet as I was on that day.
During those two weeks I discovered the warm joy that is oatmeal. There is nothing else that will completely fill your stomach and warm a cold body more than oatmeal. I also discovered that banana oatmeal is NOT very good.
I discovered how to make beaded bracelets and dresses out of scrap fabric. I also played with my Barbies and cleaned my room, which was a rarity in those days. I saw my dad plow the driveway many times, and much to his chagrin, a new snow shower came, as if to say, "Enough! Take a break! Relax!"
Eventually the snow stopped and life continued as usual. We lost our Spring Break to the snow, which was okay for me because I was sick for that whole week anyway, since I had bronchitis; I had my vacation anyway.
There are simple dreams and wishes of children everywhere. Among the wishes: a huge birthday cake for your birthday, a dollar bill for losing a tooth, and no matter where a child lives, the hope that snow will bring rest and play to those most deserving. As an adult living in a coastal area, I easily think we will not have snow. But then again, I also know that some forecasters get it wrong.
Christmas
The holidays are good for many reasons; not just for being with family and friends, not just for receiving presents, but also for taking stock of your own life and the people in it.
This year my mother-in-law came into town to go to church with me, B and my dad. I was so happy to have them with me in church, and I was also very happy to recognize many faces in the congregation as well as up on the altar.
My MIL told me that she was invited to go to a Christmas service at her nieces, but instead she told her niece that new traditions were starting, and her place is now here with us. She doesn't know (yet), but that does mean a lot to me.
Growing up, I always wanted to have family members come see us for Christmas, but our parents weren't the social types. We went to NY when I was very little, but after a few times of traveling up and down the east coast for Christmas, that stopped, especially when my grandmother passed away when I was eight. My grandma also came down to see us several times, but again, after her passing, Christmas became a much smaller and quieter affair. I know B has a hard time with many people in his house, but I like having people come and go, and I also want to have a house that is a stopping/meeting place for many, during the holidays.
I feel very blessed this year. Knowing how people are struggling this year gives me a sense of humility and luckiness at the same time. People's lives can change in an instant, and in the meantime, it's important to appreciate all that we have and not lust after things we do not.
This year my mother-in-law came into town to go to church with me, B and my dad. I was so happy to have them with me in church, and I was also very happy to recognize many faces in the congregation as well as up on the altar.
My MIL told me that she was invited to go to a Christmas service at her nieces, but instead she told her niece that new traditions were starting, and her place is now here with us. She doesn't know (yet), but that does mean a lot to me.
Growing up, I always wanted to have family members come see us for Christmas, but our parents weren't the social types. We went to NY when I was very little, but after a few times of traveling up and down the east coast for Christmas, that stopped, especially when my grandmother passed away when I was eight. My grandma also came down to see us several times, but again, after her passing, Christmas became a much smaller and quieter affair. I know B has a hard time with many people in his house, but I like having people come and go, and I also want to have a house that is a stopping/meeting place for many, during the holidays.
I feel very blessed this year. Knowing how people are struggling this year gives me a sense of humility and luckiness at the same time. People's lives can change in an instant, and in the meantime, it's important to appreciate all that we have and not lust after things we do not.
Tuesday, December 23, 2008
Colorblind dogs
How do we know dogs can't see color?
Have we ever asked a dog, "can you see this?" to which they respond, "Of course not, I'm a dog!"?
It's along the same lines of people thinking animals have no feelings.
Anyone who has a pet knows that's not true, and any animal who hunts brightly colors birds would say that they most certainly CAN see color.
Really.
It's ridiculous.
Have we ever asked a dog, "can you see this?" to which they respond, "Of course not, I'm a dog!"?
It's along the same lines of people thinking animals have no feelings.
Anyone who has a pet knows that's not true, and any animal who hunts brightly colors birds would say that they most certainly CAN see color.
Really.
It's ridiculous.
Sunday, December 21, 2008
Some things take forever
Why is it that we can take years to figure out why we are the way we are, when usually what influenced us to become who we are happened in a matter of months, weeks, days and minutes? It's almost unfair.
In the past year many things about who I am have started to come together.
So here are the basic facts about me, but only recently have I started to think about why. Knowing why really doesn't matter, but it can be interesting to think about. Maybe I can affect the future by knowing what I know. Anyway, here goes:
1. I am sensitive--apologetically so. Everyone who knows me knows that I am sensitive. I am apologetically sensitive. I actually feel guilty for becoming upset when I am upset. Why am I like this? Well, first of all, I know it runs in the family. My nephew is amazingly sensitive, and he is only three. I also know that sensitivity is part of giftedness. It can be hard to teach different versions of me. I can teach them because I understand how they think in many more ways than other teachers...and sometimes I know that how they are is not a good way to be, not always at least. It's as much a curse as it is a blessing. The more I teach the gifted kids, the more I see myself in them.
2. I am the peacemaker in my family. Studies have shown that a person's personality is usually influenced by the role of the person in her/her family. In my family, I am the peacemaker. I am often the one in the middle of an argument, and I am usually the one trying to make everyone feel better, even when I feel like hell. I am not sure why I have that role, but I definitely want to make sure everyone is okay, and I want to make sure I am helping where and when I can. I enjoy it. It does make me happy--except when it doesn't. When I was caught in fights with my mom and dad, there was nothing I could do, and it made me miserable. When I feel helpless to do anything, I am not happy.
3. I am also a perfectionist. Yes, it's true. I want everything to be right. I want everything to be okay. Of course life just doesn't work that way, and reconciling with that is not always easy. In my profession I have learned that perfection is nearly impossible. Everyone has different standards and expectations, which make achieving perfection nearly impossible. There is always room for improvement. But I must admit, hearing someone say, "Perfect!" is music to my ears. I suppose that comes from being a classically trained pianist where perfection is the ultimate goal. When I work towards achieving that goal, I feel calm and at peace. When I am not working towards that goal, I feel lost. I am finally okay with having a 3.94 GPA in grad school.
I have also learned a few other things in the past year.
5. Now that I have discovered my cousin in Seattle, although she is a 5th cousin, I know why I think like I do, and I know where my sense of humor comes from. And cousin, if you're reading this, you look very much like my mother's side...but your mouth is a little different. (ha!) Otherwise, I know we share the same genes, I am certain. There is a comfort in that, which is indescribable. It make me more at ease with who I am. I had heard stories of my cousins in Richmond, and I had heard very good things about them. My mother told horrible stories, but I learned to question everything she said. I am glad she lied. If I could describe it in any way, it's like knowing that there's a fabulous jewel out there, and that it was once yours, only you lost it, but you don't know where it is or what it even looks like, but you know it's out there.
6. For years, I have had this sense about business that I have always had. When I was in the sixth grade, I turned my school's little pencil cart into a veritable store. I made signs to advertise and I even worked with the layout of the little cart. In high school I always scrutinized my teachers' methods to figure out what would be more effective as a teacher, and what would increase student learning; and what I came up with is actually what I do now as a teacher. When I teach kids, I pay attention to the books they read mostly because I want to know what the trends are for publishers. Yes, I do care about what they read, but it's also from a business point of view. Just today I realized where all of that came from, because it has always seemed to be a natural ability to me. Alas, it is not natural at all.
It's actually from my father owning and running a business for most of my childhood. He owned a woodworking business where he refinished furniture. He also sold woodworking tools in his store. I remember my mother taking pictures of our furniture to display some sort of technique. He would post those pictures in ads, and my mom would write the copy for those ads. They placed ads in the newspaper and I would often go behind my mom to read what she had written for the ad. Usually I thought something needed to be fixed.
I also questioned why there were certain commercials on during various times of the day. I also noticed that the shows with fewer viewers had the crappier ads...and my poor dad's ad was in there too. I knew where we stood in the mix of things.
The one thing that drove me crazy with my dad's store was its filth! Yes, there was a workroom where they did the work, but there was also a "showroom," but what he was trying to show, I never knew. I used to go up to the store after school and I always started dusting and straightening; not because I liked to clean, but because I didn't see how he would sell anything in that room. Of course the nature of his business was not to do with that room, but to me, it was not acceptable. I wasn't even ten at the time. Later on, I went with my dad to price and weigh screws for sale in a mail order company. I did that until he shut down his business when I was 15. I wonder if my sister had any clue about how I thought about things.
7. Tonight B and I got into a little argument. At the end of it he pointed out that I am non-confrontational competitive. Essentially I am very competitive, but in a non-confrontational way. This means that I will do my best to outperform my counterparts, and I always wanted to be the top sales girl when I worked in retail, but I do not like one-on-one competition. It completely conflicts with who I am. In a work environment, I believe my work is a reflection of who I am, and I let my bosses and students be the judges. To be honest, I love it when my students outperform the other classes. I believe they are a reflection of me, and so when I see the scores, and they do well, I love it. I love that I helped them get there...and they aren't even the so-called "highest" of the students this year.
So yes, I am now 31, and I am only really starting to figure some of these things out. Sometimes my past comes knocking to remind me that it's there. Sometimes it shows up at the worst time. But I am glad my brain keeps working on the puzzle pieces, trying to fit everything together one piece at a time. I don't know what the final picture will be. Maybe there is no final picture. Once it's complete, that's it!
So I guess I am okay to be a continual work in progress.
(And yes, I know this blog is a bit egocentric, but sometimes it's good to think things through.)
In the past year many things about who I am have started to come together.
So here are the basic facts about me, but only recently have I started to think about why. Knowing why really doesn't matter, but it can be interesting to think about. Maybe I can affect the future by knowing what I know. Anyway, here goes:
1. I am sensitive--apologetically so. Everyone who knows me knows that I am sensitive. I am apologetically sensitive. I actually feel guilty for becoming upset when I am upset. Why am I like this? Well, first of all, I know it runs in the family. My nephew is amazingly sensitive, and he is only three. I also know that sensitivity is part of giftedness. It can be hard to teach different versions of me. I can teach them because I understand how they think in many more ways than other teachers...and sometimes I know that how they are is not a good way to be, not always at least. It's as much a curse as it is a blessing. The more I teach the gifted kids, the more I see myself in them.
2. I am the peacemaker in my family. Studies have shown that a person's personality is usually influenced by the role of the person in her/her family. In my family, I am the peacemaker. I am often the one in the middle of an argument, and I am usually the one trying to make everyone feel better, even when I feel like hell. I am not sure why I have that role, but I definitely want to make sure everyone is okay, and I want to make sure I am helping where and when I can. I enjoy it. It does make me happy--except when it doesn't. When I was caught in fights with my mom and dad, there was nothing I could do, and it made me miserable. When I feel helpless to do anything, I am not happy.
3. I am also a perfectionist. Yes, it's true. I want everything to be right. I want everything to be okay. Of course life just doesn't work that way, and reconciling with that is not always easy. In my profession I have learned that perfection is nearly impossible. Everyone has different standards and expectations, which make achieving perfection nearly impossible. There is always room for improvement. But I must admit, hearing someone say, "Perfect!" is music to my ears. I suppose that comes from being a classically trained pianist where perfection is the ultimate goal. When I work towards achieving that goal, I feel calm and at peace. When I am not working towards that goal, I feel lost. I am finally okay with having a 3.94 GPA in grad school.
I have also learned a few other things in the past year.
5. Now that I have discovered my cousin in Seattle, although she is a 5th cousin, I know why I think like I do, and I know where my sense of humor comes from. And cousin, if you're reading this, you look very much like my mother's side...but your mouth is a little different. (ha!) Otherwise, I know we share the same genes, I am certain. There is a comfort in that, which is indescribable. It make me more at ease with who I am. I had heard stories of my cousins in Richmond, and I had heard very good things about them. My mother told horrible stories, but I learned to question everything she said. I am glad she lied. If I could describe it in any way, it's like knowing that there's a fabulous jewel out there, and that it was once yours, only you lost it, but you don't know where it is or what it even looks like, but you know it's out there.
6. For years, I have had this sense about business that I have always had. When I was in the sixth grade, I turned my school's little pencil cart into a veritable store. I made signs to advertise and I even worked with the layout of the little cart. In high school I always scrutinized my teachers' methods to figure out what would be more effective as a teacher, and what would increase student learning; and what I came up with is actually what I do now as a teacher. When I teach kids, I pay attention to the books they read mostly because I want to know what the trends are for publishers. Yes, I do care about what they read, but it's also from a business point of view. Just today I realized where all of that came from, because it has always seemed to be a natural ability to me. Alas, it is not natural at all.
It's actually from my father owning and running a business for most of my childhood. He owned a woodworking business where he refinished furniture. He also sold woodworking tools in his store. I remember my mother taking pictures of our furniture to display some sort of technique. He would post those pictures in ads, and my mom would write the copy for those ads. They placed ads in the newspaper and I would often go behind my mom to read what she had written for the ad. Usually I thought something needed to be fixed.
I also questioned why there were certain commercials on during various times of the day. I also noticed that the shows with fewer viewers had the crappier ads...and my poor dad's ad was in there too. I knew where we stood in the mix of things.
The one thing that drove me crazy with my dad's store was its filth! Yes, there was a workroom where they did the work, but there was also a "showroom," but what he was trying to show, I never knew. I used to go up to the store after school and I always started dusting and straightening; not because I liked to clean, but because I didn't see how he would sell anything in that room. Of course the nature of his business was not to do with that room, but to me, it was not acceptable. I wasn't even ten at the time. Later on, I went with my dad to price and weigh screws for sale in a mail order company. I did that until he shut down his business when I was 15. I wonder if my sister had any clue about how I thought about things.
7. Tonight B and I got into a little argument. At the end of it he pointed out that I am non-confrontational competitive. Essentially I am very competitive, but in a non-confrontational way. This means that I will do my best to outperform my counterparts, and I always wanted to be the top sales girl when I worked in retail, but I do not like one-on-one competition. It completely conflicts with who I am. In a work environment, I believe my work is a reflection of who I am, and I let my bosses and students be the judges. To be honest, I love it when my students outperform the other classes. I believe they are a reflection of me, and so when I see the scores, and they do well, I love it. I love that I helped them get there...and they aren't even the so-called "highest" of the students this year.
So yes, I am now 31, and I am only really starting to figure some of these things out. Sometimes my past comes knocking to remind me that it's there. Sometimes it shows up at the worst time. But I am glad my brain keeps working on the puzzle pieces, trying to fit everything together one piece at a time. I don't know what the final picture will be. Maybe there is no final picture. Once it's complete, that's it!
So I guess I am okay to be a continual work in progress.
(And yes, I know this blog is a bit egocentric, but sometimes it's good to think things through.)
Saturday, December 20, 2008
Let the Holidays Begin!
Now that school is out, I feel as though the holidays can begin. Today I'm going to Richmond to make and decorate cookies with my friend in Richmond while her husband and B hang out for the day. Even though my eyes are half open from waking up, and I can hear the coffee brewing, I am alert and excited for today.
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
Throwing out the clock
As a teacher, I live and die by the clock.
On days off, I am still scanning the room for the time, even though it usually doesn't matter.
Last week I was talking to another teacher and she said she was literally giving her own children 45 minutes to have a cookie party at home. Wow. Forty-five minutes. I bet those kids got to go crazy with that much time!
A few minutes ago I scanned the clock on this computer and had the thought that perhaps I could get all 18 Christmas cards addressed by 7:00. That was four minutes ago.
But then I decided that that was a but much, and if I had kids, I would give them 30 minutes to eat, 10 minutes to wash and 5 minutes to change into jammies, which is a bit much.
So over my Christmas Break, I am challenging myself to throw out the clock. Beyond going to church on Christmas Eve by a certain time, and planning for meals, I will not keep a schedule.
It has been said that not keeping a clock in the bedroom is better for sleep. I think it's probably better for more than just that reason, especially if you are sharing your bed with someone else. (wink wink) So over winter break, away with the clock!
I just typed this in three minutes. Not too bad! But the fact that I just counted how long that took only proves the point: I need a break.
On days off, I am still scanning the room for the time, even though it usually doesn't matter.
Last week I was talking to another teacher and she said she was literally giving her own children 45 minutes to have a cookie party at home. Wow. Forty-five minutes. I bet those kids got to go crazy with that much time!
A few minutes ago I scanned the clock on this computer and had the thought that perhaps I could get all 18 Christmas cards addressed by 7:00. That was four minutes ago.
But then I decided that that was a but much, and if I had kids, I would give them 30 minutes to eat, 10 minutes to wash and 5 minutes to change into jammies, which is a bit much.
So over my Christmas Break, I am challenging myself to throw out the clock. Beyond going to church on Christmas Eve by a certain time, and planning for meals, I will not keep a schedule.
It has been said that not keeping a clock in the bedroom is better for sleep. I think it's probably better for more than just that reason, especially if you are sharing your bed with someone else. (wink wink) So over winter break, away with the clock!
I just typed this in three minutes. Not too bad! But the fact that I just counted how long that took only proves the point: I need a break.
Sunday, December 14, 2008
Me being me
Last night B and I went to a holiday party at a co-worker's house. Her house is gorgeous. She's an art teacher who's married to a military officer, who is currently in Afghanistan for 7 months, and apparently he is paid well for risking his life. (I do support our troops being in Afghanistan.)
Anyway, as I mingled with B for about an hour before leaving, I was judging people's moods, as if to see that everyone was okay. It wasn't a forced effort, just something I do, and it's something I have always done. It's a natural instinct that I have, but in a couple of people's cases, I felt as if all was not well for a few of the people there, and of course today I am hoping that everything is okay. I could be completely wrong about my analysis, but usually I can tell, either through facial expression or body language, that everything isn't okay. It could just be that they didn't want to be there, or that something else was up, but here I am wondering if they are okay.
I think sometimes I wish I could just take everything as it is and not question what I'm seeing. I guess when I see that something is contrary to the norm, I wonder what's going on. Maybe it's just me, and maybe I'm seeing things that aren't there, but I wish I could just not worry about it and not question it. I think life would be much simpler that way. In the meantime, I'll check in with my friends when I get back to work.
~~~
Actually, I think I know why I do it. I grew up with a mother whose mood would change instantly, for no apparent reason. Such is the life of a person growing up with someone who is bi-polar. I learned to judge the mood of another person quickly before talking with them, because I learned that not to do so would be like walking into a minefield. Of course, everyone isn't my mom, but I think it's why I automatically try to discern how someone is before approaching them. Usually I kind of watch them from a distance after I've said hi, and I watch their natural disposition, which tells me if something is wrong. If everything seems fine, then I'm not worried. But when I see something is not right, then I worry.
I think what I need to do is stop treating everyone as if they are a patient for me to fix. I know I cannot fix, but I guess there's nothing wrong with checking in on someone to make sure everything is okay.
I can say one thing, usually I am right when I think something's wrong. And for some reason, I can bring tears to someone's eyes faster than you can say "cry." I guess they feel safe when they're with me, and it's okay to let down your guard, but sometimes it's hard to see so many people get upset. I hope I'm doing the right thing by getting them to talk. Last year my team teacher called me her therapist. On the flip side of it, it can be exhausting to be in that position. But I guess that's just what I do, and it's just me being me. :)
Anyway, as I mingled with B for about an hour before leaving, I was judging people's moods, as if to see that everyone was okay. It wasn't a forced effort, just something I do, and it's something I have always done. It's a natural instinct that I have, but in a couple of people's cases, I felt as if all was not well for a few of the people there, and of course today I am hoping that everything is okay. I could be completely wrong about my analysis, but usually I can tell, either through facial expression or body language, that everything isn't okay. It could just be that they didn't want to be there, or that something else was up, but here I am wondering if they are okay.
I think sometimes I wish I could just take everything as it is and not question what I'm seeing. I guess when I see that something is contrary to the norm, I wonder what's going on. Maybe it's just me, and maybe I'm seeing things that aren't there, but I wish I could just not worry about it and not question it. I think life would be much simpler that way. In the meantime, I'll check in with my friends when I get back to work.
~~~
Actually, I think I know why I do it. I grew up with a mother whose mood would change instantly, for no apparent reason. Such is the life of a person growing up with someone who is bi-polar. I learned to judge the mood of another person quickly before talking with them, because I learned that not to do so would be like walking into a minefield. Of course, everyone isn't my mom, but I think it's why I automatically try to discern how someone is before approaching them. Usually I kind of watch them from a distance after I've said hi, and I watch their natural disposition, which tells me if something is wrong. If everything seems fine, then I'm not worried. But when I see something is not right, then I worry.
I think what I need to do is stop treating everyone as if they are a patient for me to fix. I know I cannot fix, but I guess there's nothing wrong with checking in on someone to make sure everything is okay.
I can say one thing, usually I am right when I think something's wrong. And for some reason, I can bring tears to someone's eyes faster than you can say "cry." I guess they feel safe when they're with me, and it's okay to let down your guard, but sometimes it's hard to see so many people get upset. I hope I'm doing the right thing by getting them to talk. Last year my team teacher called me her therapist. On the flip side of it, it can be exhausting to be in that position. But I guess that's just what I do, and it's just me being me. :)
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
Christmas Morning
I remember the anticipation of Christmas morning that each Christmas Eve brought. Each Christmas Eve my family and I had a quiet dinner, which was later followed by Christmas carols played on the piano while my dad dozed off in his recliner. Off in my parents' bedroom my mother wrapped present after present until she could wrap no more. When I was very young, I had no inkling of such present wrapping; but as we got older my mom wasn't quite as discreet about her routine. I guess she figured that we knew where the presents came from, so why bother hiding it?
After several hours of wrapping presents, my mom hid one present for each of us somewhere in the house, and our job was to find the present. My sister was not a big fan of this tradition, but I was a huge fan and every Christmas I looked forward to this tradition just as much as waking up the next morning to see what Santa brought.
One Christmas Eve I found a silken chocolate brown bear sitting in a sauce pan in the pots and pans cabinet. I don't remember many other times as clearly as I remember finding the bear sitting in a pot.
Each Christmas Eve my sister and I went to bed around 10:30 or 11:00. We had to see where Santa was on the local news at 11:00, and so afterwards we were shooed off to bed, which is when the unfurling of presents by my parents began.
In my bed I lain, as I watched the shadows, illuminated by the candles in my windows, dance across the wall. I tried to shut my eyes and sleep but the excitement was too much to bare, and my eyes popped open as each sound echoed from beneath my room.
Once I heard the door to our shed screech open. Later on I learned that the shed was the keeping room for my new purple dirt bike.
After several hours of trying to sleep to no avail, silence from down below came. I quietly hopped out of bed, tiptoed out of my room and peered over the top stair, trying to gain a glimpse into the living room where I knew the presents would be.
Usually I couldn't see much from standing on the top stair, so I crouched down and almost laid my cheek to the floor trying to see what was there. I could see a box or two, but nothing more. Then, my curiosity got the best of me, and I took one step down onto the next stair. I leaned down to see through the railing and down into the living room. I still couldn't see. Time to take another step. This continued until finally I decided just go walk down into the living room. Sure enough, each year, without fail, our living room was transformed from antique to toy filled within a matter of hours.
There was one Christmas where I was bold enough to not only go all the way down, but I also went to see my presents too. I had a whole chair piled high with toys and clothes. There were Barbie dolls sitting in boxes, an acid washed jean jacket folder over tissue paper and box after box waiting to be opened. Sitting atop a bunch of boxes was my prized present: a pair of white fringe leather boots. Oh yes, white fringe. I thought they were the coolest boots around. Whether or not they actually were the coolest boots, I have no idea. But I had been in love with them for months. Each time I went to the tack shop with my mom to pick up items for the horses, I went straight to those boots. I would touch their soft white leather and imagine myself wearing them, and being the coolest girl in the fifth grade. I just had to have them, and finally, I did.
As I grew older my patience waned, and I usually went down to look at my presents every Christmas Eve. I always felt a certain amount of guilt, but an adolescent will always choose immediate, rather than delayed, gratification.
I am thankful to have such happy memories of my Christmases. I suppose these memories are why I look forward to each Christmas, and I hope to one day start my own traditions. I may even throw a bear in a pot to etch a new memory for our kids; I think that one would stick.
After several hours of wrapping presents, my mom hid one present for each of us somewhere in the house, and our job was to find the present. My sister was not a big fan of this tradition, but I was a huge fan and every Christmas I looked forward to this tradition just as much as waking up the next morning to see what Santa brought.
One Christmas Eve I found a silken chocolate brown bear sitting in a sauce pan in the pots and pans cabinet. I don't remember many other times as clearly as I remember finding the bear sitting in a pot.
Each Christmas Eve my sister and I went to bed around 10:30 or 11:00. We had to see where Santa was on the local news at 11:00, and so afterwards we were shooed off to bed, which is when the unfurling of presents by my parents began.
In my bed I lain, as I watched the shadows, illuminated by the candles in my windows, dance across the wall. I tried to shut my eyes and sleep but the excitement was too much to bare, and my eyes popped open as each sound echoed from beneath my room.
Once I heard the door to our shed screech open. Later on I learned that the shed was the keeping room for my new purple dirt bike.
After several hours of trying to sleep to no avail, silence from down below came. I quietly hopped out of bed, tiptoed out of my room and peered over the top stair, trying to gain a glimpse into the living room where I knew the presents would be.
Usually I couldn't see much from standing on the top stair, so I crouched down and almost laid my cheek to the floor trying to see what was there. I could see a box or two, but nothing more. Then, my curiosity got the best of me, and I took one step down onto the next stair. I leaned down to see through the railing and down into the living room. I still couldn't see. Time to take another step. This continued until finally I decided just go walk down into the living room. Sure enough, each year, without fail, our living room was transformed from antique to toy filled within a matter of hours.
There was one Christmas where I was bold enough to not only go all the way down, but I also went to see my presents too. I had a whole chair piled high with toys and clothes. There were Barbie dolls sitting in boxes, an acid washed jean jacket folder over tissue paper and box after box waiting to be opened. Sitting atop a bunch of boxes was my prized present: a pair of white fringe leather boots. Oh yes, white fringe. I thought they were the coolest boots around. Whether or not they actually were the coolest boots, I have no idea. But I had been in love with them for months. Each time I went to the tack shop with my mom to pick up items for the horses, I went straight to those boots. I would touch their soft white leather and imagine myself wearing them, and being the coolest girl in the fifth grade. I just had to have them, and finally, I did.
As I grew older my patience waned, and I usually went down to look at my presents every Christmas Eve. I always felt a certain amount of guilt, but an adolescent will always choose immediate, rather than delayed, gratification.
I am thankful to have such happy memories of my Christmases. I suppose these memories are why I look forward to each Christmas, and I hope to one day start my own traditions. I may even throw a bear in a pot to etch a new memory for our kids; I think that one would stick.
Tuesday, December 9, 2008
Today
Was a funny day. There are some days where I'm just too busy to listen to what kids say. Today was a day where I am over-tired, which means I'm slap happy, and the kids did a lot of group work, which was nice, so I had a chance to listen to them.
So today one of my kids was trying to tell the other kids in his group what he had written for facts about plate tectonics in relation to the formation of the ocean floor. So, he starts off quickly stating them. Several kids say, "wait, slow down! What was that? " So he slows down and repeats himself. The kids ask him once again to slow down. By the end of this exchange, this poor boy is speaking to the other kids so slowly that he is enunciating each and every single syllable, as if they speak a different language. Meanwhile, I am in hysterics as I listen to this exchange. When he returned back to his desk I asked if he understood what it's like to be a teacher now, and he nodded in a daze.
Later on, the kids worked in pairs as they learned about the various jobs of colonial Virginians. The kids were to pick which job they wanted to learn about, and then read a little book about the job, and then answered 4 questions. At the end of class, another teacher asked the whole class if they felt like experts about their jobs. Many of them said "no". When she asked why they felt that way, one boy responded, "Well, an innkeeper cleans people's shoes, and I am terrible at keeping my shoes clean. So no, I'm no expert."
On a related note, my students this year are very bright, but they are very young for their age. They haven't quite grown of literal understanding of the world and take everything to mean what you say. So, metaphors and similes are an area that I am teaching right now. Just today I read to them the book Owl Moon, which is great for teaching imagery, metaphors and similes. In one part of the book, the snow in the forest is compared to white milk. So I ask the kids if it's really white milk, and they all emphatically say "No! It's a metaphor for snow." Yes, but to be an expert about a job, you must be able to do it well, according to the kids. We're getting there slowly but surely.
So today one of my kids was trying to tell the other kids in his group what he had written for facts about plate tectonics in relation to the formation of the ocean floor. So, he starts off quickly stating them. Several kids say, "wait, slow down! What was that? " So he slows down and repeats himself. The kids ask him once again to slow down. By the end of this exchange, this poor boy is speaking to the other kids so slowly that he is enunciating each and every single syllable, as if they speak a different language. Meanwhile, I am in hysterics as I listen to this exchange. When he returned back to his desk I asked if he understood what it's like to be a teacher now, and he nodded in a daze.
Later on, the kids worked in pairs as they learned about the various jobs of colonial Virginians. The kids were to pick which job they wanted to learn about, and then read a little book about the job, and then answered 4 questions. At the end of class, another teacher asked the whole class if they felt like experts about their jobs. Many of them said "no". When she asked why they felt that way, one boy responded, "Well, an innkeeper cleans people's shoes, and I am terrible at keeping my shoes clean. So no, I'm no expert."
On a related note, my students this year are very bright, but they are very young for their age. They haven't quite grown of literal understanding of the world and take everything to mean what you say. So, metaphors and similes are an area that I am teaching right now. Just today I read to them the book Owl Moon, which is great for teaching imagery, metaphors and similes. In one part of the book, the snow in the forest is compared to white milk. So I ask the kids if it's really white milk, and they all emphatically say "No! It's a metaphor for snow." Yes, but to be an expert about a job, you must be able to do it well, according to the kids. We're getting there slowly but surely.
Sunday, December 7, 2008
Growing up
When I was young, my mother bought a nativity set that I would excitedly set out on top of my spinnette piano each December. When my parents divorced, it took a number of years to heal from the separation from my mother and my home. As a symbol of our traditions and Christmases, I always wished to have the nativity set back.
I pushed my dad to get a nativity set for our little two bedroom apartment, even though he could not afford the delicately painted Fontanini set that I had grown up with. He did manage to get a beautiful porcelain set from a local department store that went out of business, and he still has it.
This year I finally bought my own nativity set. I know it's just a piece of plastic, but as I said before, it's more than that. It's a symbol of my religion and of my past. It is a symbol of the happiness I had when I was a child. I do not expect to piece together the past through this purchase, but I also see it as something to carry my husband and I forward, and to hopefully share with our children, and to pass on this memory. For us, there is a future ahead, and with B I look forward to each holiday as it approaches, and each year I hope to make this holiday as good as the last.
I always thought that when I turned 30 life would be over. I pictured myself sitting on a sofa, watching TV, with little to look forward to and with the best years having passed me by.
How wrong I was.
I never realized that perhaps that was the life of my parents, but is has not turned out to be the life I am leading.
What no one tells you is that life really starts when you hit the age of 30. For many, life is not as confusing and ambiguous as it is when you graduate college. I never knew how hard those years after graduation would really be. Every time I hear of someone graduating from college, I silently say a prayer for them, because I know how hard it can be to find your way. When you're an undergrad, you're sold on the idea that you will take over the world once you graduate, that somehow that little piece of paper you've been given is your key to the world. In a sense, it is; having a college education is a requirement for the potential for success for many people. Sure, there are those who did not go to college and are successful, but I contend that they would have been successful no matter what. So yes, a college degree is essential, but a key to the world? Hardly.
What no one tells the poor, unknowing undergraduate, is that life is really hard once you graduate. You start out at the bottom of whatever field you enter, and then you question, "What the hell am I doing? Is this really what I want? What was I thinking?" For many people I know, myself included, the mid-20s are a time for reinvention, discovering yourself, and that ultimately entails going back to school. Maybe a second time around will help define who you are.
So then you graduate, again, and start out on the path that you are hopefully more suited for. And then 30 comes. But something happens as you hit that age. You look around and say, "Wait a second, this isn't so bad!" No longer are you the struggling 20-something trying to find your way. Even if you still aren't sold on the job you're in, at least the salary tends to help.
My husband is still wondering if he's in the right field. But if you work in his field of commercial real estate, I would think you'd have your doubt, no matter who you are or how well you do it. In the meantime, we are thankful for stability.
As I eagerly await the arrival of our new nativity scene, I eagerly look forward to the future. No matter how daunting or unpredictable it can be, I know that I can get through many things, and the biggest challenge lies ahead: kids. At least, I think, I am not still struggling for stability and could handle such a challenge at this point.
I'm really not even worried about 40, although I do think I may need to have some maintenance done on my face (droopy cheeks and eyes run in the family)...but probably not until I'm 50, as we all tend to age well...unless you're my uncle, whose work life has aged him considerably. Hey, if you worked until 1am at the age of 60, you'd look older too! He has certainly paid the price for his success. His success didn't really begin until he was 50. So I look at guys like him and know that life is short, but many good things lay ahead.
I pushed my dad to get a nativity set for our little two bedroom apartment, even though he could not afford the delicately painted Fontanini set that I had grown up with. He did manage to get a beautiful porcelain set from a local department store that went out of business, and he still has it.
This year I finally bought my own nativity set. I know it's just a piece of plastic, but as I said before, it's more than that. It's a symbol of my religion and of my past. It is a symbol of the happiness I had when I was a child. I do not expect to piece together the past through this purchase, but I also see it as something to carry my husband and I forward, and to hopefully share with our children, and to pass on this memory. For us, there is a future ahead, and with B I look forward to each holiday as it approaches, and each year I hope to make this holiday as good as the last.
I always thought that when I turned 30 life would be over. I pictured myself sitting on a sofa, watching TV, with little to look forward to and with the best years having passed me by.
How wrong I was.
I never realized that perhaps that was the life of my parents, but is has not turned out to be the life I am leading.
What no one tells you is that life really starts when you hit the age of 30. For many, life is not as confusing and ambiguous as it is when you graduate college. I never knew how hard those years after graduation would really be. Every time I hear of someone graduating from college, I silently say a prayer for them, because I know how hard it can be to find your way. When you're an undergrad, you're sold on the idea that you will take over the world once you graduate, that somehow that little piece of paper you've been given is your key to the world. In a sense, it is; having a college education is a requirement for the potential for success for many people. Sure, there are those who did not go to college and are successful, but I contend that they would have been successful no matter what. So yes, a college degree is essential, but a key to the world? Hardly.
What no one tells the poor, unknowing undergraduate, is that life is really hard once you graduate. You start out at the bottom of whatever field you enter, and then you question, "What the hell am I doing? Is this really what I want? What was I thinking?" For many people I know, myself included, the mid-20s are a time for reinvention, discovering yourself, and that ultimately entails going back to school. Maybe a second time around will help define who you are.
So then you graduate, again, and start out on the path that you are hopefully more suited for. And then 30 comes. But something happens as you hit that age. You look around and say, "Wait a second, this isn't so bad!" No longer are you the struggling 20-something trying to find your way. Even if you still aren't sold on the job you're in, at least the salary tends to help.
My husband is still wondering if he's in the right field. But if you work in his field of commercial real estate, I would think you'd have your doubt, no matter who you are or how well you do it. In the meantime, we are thankful for stability.
As I eagerly await the arrival of our new nativity scene, I eagerly look forward to the future. No matter how daunting or unpredictable it can be, I know that I can get through many things, and the biggest challenge lies ahead: kids. At least, I think, I am not still struggling for stability and could handle such a challenge at this point.
I'm really not even worried about 40, although I do think I may need to have some maintenance done on my face (droopy cheeks and eyes run in the family)...but probably not until I'm 50, as we all tend to age well...unless you're my uncle, whose work life has aged him considerably. Hey, if you worked until 1am at the age of 60, you'd look older too! He has certainly paid the price for his success. His success didn't really begin until he was 50. So I look at guys like him and know that life is short, but many good things lay ahead.
Saturday, December 6, 2008
Fragile Times
I work in a fairly affluent area. The parents with whom I work tend to be fairly well off, but lately, I can tell that things are changing.
A mother of one of my students told me of a new job she has where she is selling paving stones for residential and commercial properties. She was employed with the performing arts center here in town, but as far as I can tell, she was laid off. When purse strings tighten, culture usually suffers first, and so, she was let go, moving from one vulnerable job to another. She told me how lucky she is to have a job in such down times. I pray she holds onto that job selling paving stones, both for her and her daughter's sake.
By the same token, I know that B's job is still very fragile. Yes, what he does, as a financial reporting analyst, is a job that is needed in good times and bad, but we both know how things could go sour in the blink of an eye. I am very thankful that we are still okay, even if he will not receive a raise this year. This is the first year, since he graduated from college, in which he will not receive a raise. Still, I'm okay with the steady employment, even if it means no raise.
How many families are hanging on by a tenuous thread? How many families have only one pay check separating them between having a home and being homeless? How many are willing to admit just how badly off they actually are? Credit cards have been a great aversion to reality, but it seems as though fewer and fewer have this route to take as an alternative.
For now, I will continue to thank my lucky stars, and I will continue to help out where and when I can. I suppose my biggest concern is helping so many more people who will need it. I also hope that those who need it will actually ask for help, rather than make their families suffer in silence, and are too proud to admit when things are not so good.
I know this has a depressing tone, but I am a little sad today. I can say, though, that times like these also force me to take stock of what we do have, and that the most important things are not things at all. The most important things are people.
A mother of one of my students told me of a new job she has where she is selling paving stones for residential and commercial properties. She was employed with the performing arts center here in town, but as far as I can tell, she was laid off. When purse strings tighten, culture usually suffers first, and so, she was let go, moving from one vulnerable job to another. She told me how lucky she is to have a job in such down times. I pray she holds onto that job selling paving stones, both for her and her daughter's sake.
By the same token, I know that B's job is still very fragile. Yes, what he does, as a financial reporting analyst, is a job that is needed in good times and bad, but we both know how things could go sour in the blink of an eye. I am very thankful that we are still okay, even if he will not receive a raise this year. This is the first year, since he graduated from college, in which he will not receive a raise. Still, I'm okay with the steady employment, even if it means no raise.
How many families are hanging on by a tenuous thread? How many families have only one pay check separating them between having a home and being homeless? How many are willing to admit just how badly off they actually are? Credit cards have been a great aversion to reality, but it seems as though fewer and fewer have this route to take as an alternative.
For now, I will continue to thank my lucky stars, and I will continue to help out where and when I can. I suppose my biggest concern is helping so many more people who will need it. I also hope that those who need it will actually ask for help, rather than make their families suffer in silence, and are too proud to admit when things are not so good.
I know this has a depressing tone, but I am a little sad today. I can say, though, that times like these also force me to take stock of what we do have, and that the most important things are not things at all. The most important things are people.
Fun Day
Yesterday we went on a trip to Colonial Yorktown (where the English surrendered to the US in 1783) and Colonial Williamsburg. What a great time! It was freezing (the high got up to 43), so I had on two pairs of socks, my heavy down coat, which I haven't worn since before I moved, a fleece headband for my ears, heavy gloves and jeans, oh and clogs. Every part of me stayed warm, except for my legs, as I forgot to wear two layers on my legs. I guess fat on the legs isn't as much insulation as I had hoped. :)
What a great way to teach history to kids who are not yet able to understand such abstract concepts as history. Many kids have a hard time with history because it's not something that they personally experienced. It is the only subject that cannot always be hands-on, so it's tough for them to learn. So we take them there so that everything they learned becomes alive. It is always so much fun to see how engaged and enthusiastic they are when they go. They got to see a soldier fire a musket. They got to see a real colonial farm, with tobacco growing and everything. They even got to be in the House of Burgesses and the court room where the birth of our nation took place. And my lowest student actually got to be Patrick Henry. I don't think he will forget that.
The best parts were having tour guides the whole way through at both locations, so I didn't have to teach anything, and actually getting to talk to the students' parents not as a teacher, but more as an adult. It is hard to be the teacher sometimes. You can't always says what's on your mind, and although I didn't completely let my guard off (I'm no fool), it was nice to talk about things other than kids.
So even though I am tired and sore from carrying a backpack full of stuff, I am gad we did it.
:)
What a great way to teach history to kids who are not yet able to understand such abstract concepts as history. Many kids have a hard time with history because it's not something that they personally experienced. It is the only subject that cannot always be hands-on, so it's tough for them to learn. So we take them there so that everything they learned becomes alive. It is always so much fun to see how engaged and enthusiastic they are when they go. They got to see a soldier fire a musket. They got to see a real colonial farm, with tobacco growing and everything. They even got to be in the House of Burgesses and the court room where the birth of our nation took place. And my lowest student actually got to be Patrick Henry. I don't think he will forget that.
The best parts were having tour guides the whole way through at both locations, so I didn't have to teach anything, and actually getting to talk to the students' parents not as a teacher, but more as an adult. It is hard to be the teacher sometimes. You can't always says what's on your mind, and although I didn't completely let my guard off (I'm no fool), it was nice to talk about things other than kids.
So even though I am tired and sore from carrying a backpack full of stuff, I am gad we did it.
:)
Monday, December 1, 2008
Help me...please
There is a person I know who is a reading teacher. She wants to continue teaching reading, even though I think she is a better math and science teacher.
I am even more so convinced by the following:
She teaches "homophoMes," but not "homophoNes". Perhaps I should just start calling them homonyms to see if she follows suit.
In a letter to a parent, she stated that her daughter would have "amble" time to finish the work. I suppose she could amble along to the finish line.
And finally, in a conversation, she used the word "astrominable," which isn't even a word, in place of "astronomical".
Help me.
Please.
I am even more so convinced by the following:
She teaches "homophoMes," but not "homophoNes". Perhaps I should just start calling them homonyms to see if she follows suit.
In a letter to a parent, she stated that her daughter would have "amble" time to finish the work. I suppose she could amble along to the finish line.
And finally, in a conversation, she used the word "astrominable," which isn't even a word, in place of "astronomical".
Help me.
Please.
Saturday, November 29, 2008
Honestly
First: Thanksgiving was great! I am still enjoying my time off from work.
Now, what I came on here to blog about:Black Friday at Wal-Mart in NY. Honestly, if someone is so desperate to get a deal on some piece of crap at Wal-Mart, then perhaps they shouldn't spend any money on crap, at all.
We all know about the attacks in Mumbai, and truly, that was a devastating attack for many people who were simply in the wrong place and time. Is it all that surprising? No. Not really. India has its enemies, as does the US and UK. Sad, yes. Surprising, no.
Somehow I am more horrified by the fact that a) there were 12 shoppers at this Wal-Mart who literally took the front doors of the store off the hinges before storming in, b) the first person to knock down that worker could have helped the guy up, but instead kept going, c) when the shoppers heard that the store would close for a few hours because of the death, there were reports of people saying "But I've been here all night!" d) nothing in that store was worth the life of an employee, and yet e) stores like Wal-Mart want to create a fervor about their sales to boost their bottom lines and please their stockholders, and f) everyone at that store bought into it, lock, stock and barrel, regardless of the consequences.
There is no excuse for this, and I hope they are able to identify the people who took the life of a 34 year-old, just to save some money.
~~~
My family has never been party to the Black Friday craziness. I have ventured out on the following days just to see what's on sale, but usually I end up buying nothing, because it's nothing I care that much about anyway, so life goes on as usual. I wonder if those who do line up the night before to save $50 realize how crazy it is. I know some people do it as tradition, but really, I think there are better traditions to partake in, which is what the real Thanksgiving is all about. Yes, it ushers in the holiday shopping season, but the holidays are about traditions, not getting as much as you can for as little money possible.
Now, what I came on here to blog about:Black Friday at Wal-Mart in NY. Honestly, if someone is so desperate to get a deal on some piece of crap at Wal-Mart, then perhaps they shouldn't spend any money on crap, at all.
We all know about the attacks in Mumbai, and truly, that was a devastating attack for many people who were simply in the wrong place and time. Is it all that surprising? No. Not really. India has its enemies, as does the US and UK. Sad, yes. Surprising, no.
Somehow I am more horrified by the fact that a) there were 12 shoppers at this Wal-Mart who literally took the front doors of the store off the hinges before storming in, b) the first person to knock down that worker could have helped the guy up, but instead kept going, c) when the shoppers heard that the store would close for a few hours because of the death, there were reports of people saying "But I've been here all night!" d) nothing in that store was worth the life of an employee, and yet e) stores like Wal-Mart want to create a fervor about their sales to boost their bottom lines and please their stockholders, and f) everyone at that store bought into it, lock, stock and barrel, regardless of the consequences.
There is no excuse for this, and I hope they are able to identify the people who took the life of a 34 year-old, just to save some money.
~~~
My family has never been party to the Black Friday craziness. I have ventured out on the following days just to see what's on sale, but usually I end up buying nothing, because it's nothing I care that much about anyway, so life goes on as usual. I wonder if those who do line up the night before to save $50 realize how crazy it is. I know some people do it as tradition, but really, I think there are better traditions to partake in, which is what the real Thanksgiving is all about. Yes, it ushers in the holiday shopping season, but the holidays are about traditions, not getting as much as you can for as little money possible.
Sunday, November 23, 2008
Camel Mouth
Several years ago I asked B where in the world the old adage "don't look a gift horse in the mouth," came from. I did not expect an answer because it was most certainly rhetorical in nature. He had an answer that he has defended and has made me laugh myself to tears every since.
According to B, the phrase doesn't make any sense because it's not a horse. It's a camel. Yes. A camel. He says it comes from biblical times from when the three wise men came to Bethlehem riding camels bearing gifts. And? Yes, you don't look a gift CAMEL in the mouth....because it will spit at you.
It doesn't matter how many times we go over it, and how I surmise that it came from when people gave horses, like cars, as gifts, and how it's rude to scrutinize a gift.
No. It's a camel, and they WILL spit at you if you look them in the mouth.
According to B, the phrase doesn't make any sense because it's not a horse. It's a camel. Yes. A camel. He says it comes from biblical times from when the three wise men came to Bethlehem riding camels bearing gifts. And? Yes, you don't look a gift CAMEL in the mouth....because it will spit at you.
It doesn't matter how many times we go over it, and how I surmise that it came from when people gave horses, like cars, as gifts, and how it's rude to scrutinize a gift.
No. It's a camel, and they WILL spit at you if you look them in the mouth.
Friday, November 21, 2008
Conventional Wisdom
Yesterday I attended a gifted ed training session in which we read a highly biased article about why teachers need to do away with giving students zeros, and how, if they do, their students, parents and schools will be much more productive and happy.
Ah yes, the sublime world where everyone learns together in harmony. Every child nods yes and no, they all understand directions, no matter how complicated, and parents praise their child's teacher through gifts of chocolate and candy.
Although I have been lavished with gifts by my students' parents, I know that no such world exists.
There is an inescapable reality. People are messy, filled with flaws, and of varying degrees of intelligence. Some people love structure, and others hate it. Some people think in a linear and orderly fashion (me), whereas other's thoughts bounce around and lead to other ideas much like dribbled paint in a Jackson Pollack painting. And I, the gifted teacher, will teach to all styles and learning methods. At least it is my job to attempt such a feat.
So, therefore, why give zeros? Zeros ignore each child's learning style and to give them such a punitive grade is hardly the mechanism for productive learning.
Except, many argue, there is a harsh reality out there. The reality is that life isn't so accepting of faults and flaws, according to many seasoned teachers. In real life, many teachers posit, if you are late for a job, you are fired. If you don't do your work, you are fired, and there is no paycheck. As evidence to support this idea, one teacher in the class stated that military contractors have no tolerance for delays. If the work isn't done, then you are gone. Another coworker of mine, who once worked for a telesales company, said that those who are incompetent are fired. If someone doesn't show up to McDonald's for work, then no job.
But there is another reality out there that many who are in favor of punitive grading do not realize exists. There is the white collar world in which executives often arrive late, and everyone quietly moans to himself, but says nothing. There is the world in which an editor can make mistakes, miss a deadline, and while they could be reprimanded, they are often not fired for one mistake. I have personally witnessed the most incompetent professionals make multitudes of mistakes, and they are still employed. It is maddening to watch them stay on, but this is a reality for many.
So as to whether or not giving zeros is a reflection of reality lies within the personal experiences of the grader/parent/student. From what I can tell, zeros are appropriate from the eyes of those who live in a harsher, more punitive world. For those of us who come from a more white collar, professional world where tardiness is not the anathema to a productive world, grades do not have to be quite so harsh.
Personally, I do not give zeros. Why? Because they are still kids. I don't feel it's my job to crush them when they are young. Yes, they have to learn a consequence, and I will give a failing grade for that assignment, but I won't give a 0 and ruin their chances for having even a C as a final grade.
In the article, the author stated that zeros were mathematically incorrect. How could that be? Well, if you think about it, an 80 is a C. That's the median (thinking of a bell curve). An A+, or 100, would be on the far right of the curve, i.e., the maximum. In terms of standard deviations from the median, the minimum would not be a 0. It would be 60. So therefore, mathematically, 0s are statistically incorrect. If we are going to use grades on such a scale, then an E (or F) would be a 60. To make 0 statistically significant, then a C would be 50 and an A+ would still be 100. Only then would the 0 work, mathematically speaking. So for me, I give 60s, not zeros.
I know, it's crazy! It makes no sense (but it does). But then again, our world is a little crazy, and we are all a little off. Why expect our kids to be exceptions to the rule?
Ah yes, the sublime world where everyone learns together in harmony. Every child nods yes and no, they all understand directions, no matter how complicated, and parents praise their child's teacher through gifts of chocolate and candy.
Although I have been lavished with gifts by my students' parents, I know that no such world exists.
There is an inescapable reality. People are messy, filled with flaws, and of varying degrees of intelligence. Some people love structure, and others hate it. Some people think in a linear and orderly fashion (me), whereas other's thoughts bounce around and lead to other ideas much like dribbled paint in a Jackson Pollack painting. And I, the gifted teacher, will teach to all styles and learning methods. At least it is my job to attempt such a feat.
So, therefore, why give zeros? Zeros ignore each child's learning style and to give them such a punitive grade is hardly the mechanism for productive learning.
Except, many argue, there is a harsh reality out there. The reality is that life isn't so accepting of faults and flaws, according to many seasoned teachers. In real life, many teachers posit, if you are late for a job, you are fired. If you don't do your work, you are fired, and there is no paycheck. As evidence to support this idea, one teacher in the class stated that military contractors have no tolerance for delays. If the work isn't done, then you are gone. Another coworker of mine, who once worked for a telesales company, said that those who are incompetent are fired. If someone doesn't show up to McDonald's for work, then no job.
But there is another reality out there that many who are in favor of punitive grading do not realize exists. There is the white collar world in which executives often arrive late, and everyone quietly moans to himself, but says nothing. There is the world in which an editor can make mistakes, miss a deadline, and while they could be reprimanded, they are often not fired for one mistake. I have personally witnessed the most incompetent professionals make multitudes of mistakes, and they are still employed. It is maddening to watch them stay on, but this is a reality for many.
So as to whether or not giving zeros is a reflection of reality lies within the personal experiences of the grader/parent/student. From what I can tell, zeros are appropriate from the eyes of those who live in a harsher, more punitive world. For those of us who come from a more white collar, professional world where tardiness is not the anathema to a productive world, grades do not have to be quite so harsh.
Personally, I do not give zeros. Why? Because they are still kids. I don't feel it's my job to crush them when they are young. Yes, they have to learn a consequence, and I will give a failing grade for that assignment, but I won't give a 0 and ruin their chances for having even a C as a final grade.
In the article, the author stated that zeros were mathematically incorrect. How could that be? Well, if you think about it, an 80 is a C. That's the median (thinking of a bell curve). An A+, or 100, would be on the far right of the curve, i.e., the maximum. In terms of standard deviations from the median, the minimum would not be a 0. It would be 60. So therefore, mathematically, 0s are statistically incorrect. If we are going to use grades on such a scale, then an E (or F) would be a 60. To make 0 statistically significant, then a C would be 50 and an A+ would still be 100. Only then would the 0 work, mathematically speaking. So for me, I give 60s, not zeros.
I know, it's crazy! It makes no sense (but it does). But then again, our world is a little crazy, and we are all a little off. Why expect our kids to be exceptions to the rule?
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
Big 3
I just had an idea about what could be done instead of providing $25 billion to the Big 3 automakers.
It is estimated that as many as 2 million jobs could be lost if GM fails. So here's what I think: instead of pumping cash into companies that have not made good cars in a long time, how about setting aside money from the bailout bill that would provide green technology jobs to the unemployed auto workers. Think about it: what do they make? Parts, supplies and cars. They would be a perfect fit for building turbine engines for windmill farms and other green technology. If they could build the engines and the devices for operating clean technology, and if we nationalized our power grids to remove private industry from this task, it could work.
It is estimated that as many as 2 million jobs could be lost if GM fails. So here's what I think: instead of pumping cash into companies that have not made good cars in a long time, how about setting aside money from the bailout bill that would provide green technology jobs to the unemployed auto workers. Think about it: what do they make? Parts, supplies and cars. They would be a perfect fit for building turbine engines for windmill farms and other green technology. If they could build the engines and the devices for operating clean technology, and if we nationalized our power grids to remove private industry from this task, it could work.
Sunday, November 16, 2008
How We See The World
Sometimes my boss irritates me. It isn't because she's a bad boss or that she's bad to work for. It's more that I think she places emphasis on things that, in my mind, simply do not matter. The worst part is that I know she is not alone.
Yesterday I attended a teaching conference for reading. We had lunch with several others from my school of which included my boss. I sat directly across from her; which I hate, because then I feel like I am not myself. She is not one to refrain from judgment on people, and I am well aware of this fact. She never says anything, but much like Miranda Priestly in The Devil Wears Prada, it only takes one disapproving glance to know what she's thinking.
As we finished lunch, another teacher from our school passed by. My boss suddenly declared to the person sitting next to her, "Isn't she just the most darling thing you've ever seen? She is just as precious as can be." Thank God she didn't say it to me, because I don't know how I would have responded. What really bothers me is that I have a feeling that my boss may have hired her for her position not only because she's a great teacher, but also because she's "darling."
On my first day of teaching at this school, I had one day to set up my whole classroom. I had no idea what I was teaching or who my kids were. When my boss came in to see how things were, the main thing she concerned herself with was that a chair in the room did not match the rest of the furniture. Never mind that I was missing textbooks. Never mind that I was given the worst of the kids in the whole grade. No, my chairs didn't match, and that was a concern.
On the plus side of that, I decided that I didn't really need to worry about being perfect with my teaching because what she cared about was how the room looked.
To be fair, the organization of the room does matter to a certain extent. The structure of any room can make a big difference in a person's mental state, especially if they have ADD or ADHD, which I am fairly certain I have. I cannot function in a room that has too much going on. I just shut down. So my classroom is generally very well organized and I have defined areas for each task for the kids, which is as much for me as it is for them. But whether or not everything matches is just not important. No child cares if the room matches completely. Learning is what matters to me.
Almost all of the teachers that have been hired by my boss are pretty. Many of us are pretty and on the slim side, although I do not consider myself thin. If I thought they weren't hired largely because of their looks, I wouldn't mind, but I do.
The saddest part of this is that it is not unique. Countless stories are written about why some people are promoted over others because they are better looking. It's a deeply rooted, psychological barrier, but I don't think it's right.
Even in the classroom, preferences for friends are largely decided, at least for the girls, over whether or not they are pretty or thin. Sometimes the girls can be just downright rude and nasty.
I had one student last year who struggled with many of the girls in my room. They had long, flowing hair, stick thin legs, and the best of the best in clothes. She did not fit any of these standards; she was tall, slightly overweight and had shorter hair. She was a sad girl. I understood how the girl felt because even though I did have friends, I wasn't quite as delicately built, and although I had long hair, it wasn't well kept or beautiful.
I had lunch with this odd girl out. I took out a photo album of me when I was her age. In those pictures she saw a plump, awkward preteen who didn't know what to do about her hips that appeared overnight. She and I developed a bond that year, and as the year drew on, I watched her grow from an insecure overweight girl, to a funny, outgoing girl who didn't try to win boys' affections because she wasn't there yet and she just didn't care any longer if they liked her.
Maybe I am just a fighter for the underdog. I know how the underdog feels because I have felt like he/she often feels. So when my boss places emphasis on the artificial attributes of a person, I know that there are others out there who are probably better teachers, but are probably not up to her visual standards.
The fighter in me wants to scream at her and tell her how wrong she is, but instead I say nothing. She has often said that she likes me because I remind her so much of her younger self. I wonder how she can possibly know that. If she knew who I was, she probably wouldn't say that. If it were my school, I can certainly say that I would not worry over whether or not a teacher was cute, or the furniture didn't match. There's an underdog out there, and he/she is worth fighting for.
Yesterday I attended a teaching conference for reading. We had lunch with several others from my school of which included my boss. I sat directly across from her; which I hate, because then I feel like I am not myself. She is not one to refrain from judgment on people, and I am well aware of this fact. She never says anything, but much like Miranda Priestly in The Devil Wears Prada, it only takes one disapproving glance to know what she's thinking.
As we finished lunch, another teacher from our school passed by. My boss suddenly declared to the person sitting next to her, "Isn't she just the most darling thing you've ever seen? She is just as precious as can be." Thank God she didn't say it to me, because I don't know how I would have responded. What really bothers me is that I have a feeling that my boss may have hired her for her position not only because she's a great teacher, but also because she's "darling."
On my first day of teaching at this school, I had one day to set up my whole classroom. I had no idea what I was teaching or who my kids were. When my boss came in to see how things were, the main thing she concerned herself with was that a chair in the room did not match the rest of the furniture. Never mind that I was missing textbooks. Never mind that I was given the worst of the kids in the whole grade. No, my chairs didn't match, and that was a concern.
On the plus side of that, I decided that I didn't really need to worry about being perfect with my teaching because what she cared about was how the room looked.
To be fair, the organization of the room does matter to a certain extent. The structure of any room can make a big difference in a person's mental state, especially if they have ADD or ADHD, which I am fairly certain I have. I cannot function in a room that has too much going on. I just shut down. So my classroom is generally very well organized and I have defined areas for each task for the kids, which is as much for me as it is for them. But whether or not everything matches is just not important. No child cares if the room matches completely. Learning is what matters to me.
Almost all of the teachers that have been hired by my boss are pretty. Many of us are pretty and on the slim side, although I do not consider myself thin. If I thought they weren't hired largely because of their looks, I wouldn't mind, but I do.
The saddest part of this is that it is not unique. Countless stories are written about why some people are promoted over others because they are better looking. It's a deeply rooted, psychological barrier, but I don't think it's right.
Even in the classroom, preferences for friends are largely decided, at least for the girls, over whether or not they are pretty or thin. Sometimes the girls can be just downright rude and nasty.
I had one student last year who struggled with many of the girls in my room. They had long, flowing hair, stick thin legs, and the best of the best in clothes. She did not fit any of these standards; she was tall, slightly overweight and had shorter hair. She was a sad girl. I understood how the girl felt because even though I did have friends, I wasn't quite as delicately built, and although I had long hair, it wasn't well kept or beautiful.
I had lunch with this odd girl out. I took out a photo album of me when I was her age. In those pictures she saw a plump, awkward preteen who didn't know what to do about her hips that appeared overnight. She and I developed a bond that year, and as the year drew on, I watched her grow from an insecure overweight girl, to a funny, outgoing girl who didn't try to win boys' affections because she wasn't there yet and she just didn't care any longer if they liked her.
Maybe I am just a fighter for the underdog. I know how the underdog feels because I have felt like he/she often feels. So when my boss places emphasis on the artificial attributes of a person, I know that there are others out there who are probably better teachers, but are probably not up to her visual standards.
The fighter in me wants to scream at her and tell her how wrong she is, but instead I say nothing. She has often said that she likes me because I remind her so much of her younger self. I wonder how she can possibly know that. If she knew who I was, she probably wouldn't say that. If it were my school, I can certainly say that I would not worry over whether or not a teacher was cute, or the furniture didn't match. There's an underdog out there, and he/she is worth fighting for.
Summer Dream Poem (Audience: kids)
Summer
Comes and goes
In a flash.
The last day
Of school
A day
Of joy
Looking forward
To the many
Lazy days
Ahead.
Days
Of swimming
In friends' pools
Hot pavement
Beneath bare feet
Run
Through neighborhoods,
Licking
Melted strawberry
Ice cream
From
Your fingers
Not caring
At all
If
You
Get to bed
Early.
No school.
Cold
Air conditioning
Blast
Pool soaked skin,
Chills
Up and down
Snuggle
Warm, fluffy towel.
Hot
Humid air
Suffocating
Ideas and thoughts
Nothing
Comes to mind
Everything you learned
Escapes.
A jar.
Six holes
Punched in the lid
Running around
In the yard.
Catching, grasping, flying
Breathing hard,
Sneaking quietly,
The elusive firefly.
One pops in.
Clicks
Its head
Against the top,
Trying
To escape.
Two, three,
Four, five
and six
Scooped in,
Between sweaty fingers
And cold metal.
To light
The bedroom,
A new night light,
Glowing.
Illuminating
Dark walls.
One escapes,
Pushes its way
Through one hole.
Another follows.
They are free.
Tightly pressed eyes
Try to sleep
But peak above
To see
The ceiling
Aglow
Stars in my sky
No star stickers
Can imitate
And the jar?
Empty.
Comes and goes
In a flash.
The last day
Of school
A day
Of joy
Looking forward
To the many
Lazy days
Ahead.
Days
Of swimming
In friends' pools
Hot pavement
Beneath bare feet
Run
Through neighborhoods,
Licking
Melted strawberry
Ice cream
From
Your fingers
Not caring
At all
If
You
Get to bed
Early.
No school.
Cold
Air conditioning
Blast
Pool soaked skin,
Chills
Up and down
Snuggle
Warm, fluffy towel.
Hot
Humid air
Suffocating
Ideas and thoughts
Nothing
Comes to mind
Everything you learned
Escapes.
A jar.
Six holes
Punched in the lid
Running around
In the yard.
Catching, grasping, flying
Breathing hard,
Sneaking quietly,
The elusive firefly.
One pops in.
Clicks
Its head
Against the top,
Trying
To escape.
Two, three,
Four, five
and six
Scooped in,
Between sweaty fingers
And cold metal.
To light
The bedroom,
A new night light,
Glowing.
Illuminating
Dark walls.
One escapes,
Pushes its way
Through one hole.
Another follows.
They are free.
Tightly pressed eyes
Try to sleep
But peak above
To see
The ceiling
Aglow
Stars in my sky
No star stickers
Can imitate
And the jar?
Empty.
Saturday, November 15, 2008
And the search goes on...and on....and on.....
Today I went to a teaching conference on Reading Education, which lasted from 9-1:30. When I came home, happily I discovered that B had done the dishes (AND POTS), cleaned the counters AND took out the recycling.
I told him he earned the Golden Husband award for the day. I told him this as he showered. When he got out of the shower he asked if I wanted to go to another furniture store to look for sofas. My initial thought was "HELL NO!" as if I wanted to go through another emotional argument. But I know that I can control how I react to his rejection of every single piece of furniture on this good earth, so I said I would go.
We went to two stores today. At the second store we found a sofa that we both really like. It is deep, wide and very comfortable. The back cushions are square and clean looking, but comfortable.
It was on sale by $700. It is less than two thousand dollars, but more than one thousand. Is it worth it? YES. This is the ONLY sofa that B has actually liked. I love it.
So what could possibly be wrong with the sofa?
Of course, it's too much money.
My argument for the sofa:
1. B is rarely pleased with such things, and as such, when we find a good one, it's a keeper!
2. I have bought a cheap sofa, and we are replacing it. The sofa we are replacing tore within the first month I had it. In some cases, spending a little more money makes more sense than spending less because it will wear out. I informed him that ultimately, within the past ten years, I will have spent $2,500 on sofas, if we get this sofa. That's a lot to spend. I told him I do not want to buy another sofa for a long time.
3. We don't need to worry if it fits exactly into our current condo because in ten years we will still have the sofa, but we will not be in our current residence.
I have made these points to him, and I hope they sink in. Obviously I think I'm right. I think I am talking logic and reason here. I'm not just saying, "It's pretty, and I like it!" I think I'm giving valid reasons for doing it.
What I can also say is that I cannot believe we are spending so much time worrying about this. My whole afternoon after the conference was destroyed by our hunt. Hopefully something positive comes out of it. Hopefully. I can't get those hours back.
Thursday, November 13, 2008
So it's finally here
The verdict is in: yes, we are in a recession. As if most of us didn't already know this, but jobless claims surged to its highest level since 1992.
Given the fact that B's company has been laying off employees at various properties around the country left and right, this comes as no surprise.
B's CEO sent out a memo yesterday that established a moratorium on any raises for 2009. No bonuses, no raises. The CEO himself took a 20% pay cut. Thankfully B's job does not seem to be going anywhere. No matter how dire the conditions, unless the company just outright folds, they will always need someone to do the financial reporting. So that's good. What's even better: he still has a job. So hopefully we can hold on until the storm passes.
This leads me to considering the pros and cons of a recession. Yes, there are pros, if you can manage to survive through it.
Pros:
1. Everything goes on sale. Stores that are forced to clear out their inventory are also forced to reduce their prices to the appropriate price point, which can sometimes mean giving things away almost for free.
Case in point: Old Navy just had a sale where they were literally selling their scarves and hats for $1. Need a scarf or hat? Well, no, I don't, not personally, but I'm sure many who are struggling are happy to have such a price. When you factor in cost to produce and transport, ON is barely making anything on those hats and scarves. But if you happen to have money to shop: SCORE!
2. Hm....well, what's number 2? Oh, okay, energy prices are going down. They aren't going down for good reasons. Prices are declining because even though OPEC decreased its production, there is still a surplus of oil available due to weak demand around the world. So, if you wanted to go on a road trip, now is the time to do it. Do you have your passport ready, if you still have a job?
3. Traveling will hopefully get cheaper. I don't have any proof to back up this theory, but business who want to just have customers will be forced to lower prices. There are businesses who will keep their prices arbitrarily inflated, but the companies who fail to reduce their prices will suffer more than those who react accordingly.
In essence, if you are still fortunate to have an income, then these are the things to be happy about: sales!
I could list out the cons, but don't we pretty much know what they are? Job losses, increased health care costs because of people losing health insurance when they lose jobs, rising foreclosures, fewer available loans to help those who need to get by, etc. It's depressing. But these are not things we need to dwell on.
Tuesday, November 11, 2008
What to do, what to do
I haven't gone to my gym since August, which is when school started. I like my gym. It's right on the water, so when I am on the treadmill I enjoy watching the boats glide gently through the waterway, the occasional bird swooping down to catch a fish and then flying on.
Do I particularly enjoy going to the gym? No. But I like this gym.
It costs $43/mo. In the past two months I have given them my money without getting anything out of it. I use it the most during the summer, if it's really hot out, and during the winter, if it's cold out.
I much prefer going on walks outside, but for some reason, ever since I was little, my lungs literally hurt when I try to breathe in the cold air. I don't know if it's just acclimation or what, but I know that exercising outside when it's colder than 50 is a miserable experience for me.
So I have been toying with the idea of canceling my membership. But I don't want to because I know it's my own fault for not using it enough lately. I had wanted to get to the gym on a regular basis this year, but it hasn't happened. Teaching all subjects for 5th graders demands quite a bit of time, and sometimes, no matter how hard I try, it's 5:00 before I know it, and by that time the gym is crowded and you can't get on the machines you want, which also sucks.
So now I am still left with the question: do I quit and then rejoin if I miss it, or should I just try even harder to get out of school at a decent time so that I am competing for machines with other women?
Sunday, November 9, 2008
Argh
TMI warning, perhaps.
It's the middle of the month (actually day 11 for me), and today we went to go look at sofas. I actually really liked several sofas, and he kinda liked a few, and really liked none. We spent a while in there, and I felt like he was rushing us through. It turns out he was rushing us through because he didn't really like the place, but he didn't communicate that to me.
Anyway, I spent a few moments talking to a sales clerk about their process, and when we were finished, B approached me in a panicked way and I asked if he liked anything in there, and he said that he didn't. Great. I wasted my time looking at everything when apparently he had decided early on that he didn't like their stuff. So I was mad a) because we wasted our time b) I actually did like a few things and c) he didn't appear to be concerned about what I thought. In hindsight, he really didn't need to ask because I said "Oh, I like this one." But my ovaries didn't realize this, and I got really upset with him.
It wasn't about sofas, but he thinks it was. I was upset with him because I didn't feel as though my thoughts were heard or taken into consideration. That rang a few other bells, and before I knew it, we're standing in our house and I am crying and carrying on about how I feel he doesn't care to know what I think about things, and what he says is what goes. None of this is true, but you can't tell my emotional self that it's not true.
So an hour later we both vented our frustrations, and he went to a friend's house to play XBOX (he's addicted to that little white box with its green eye). I took a bath, sang my little heart out while bubbles piled around me, and then clarity came. I was a little crazy. And I'm going to have to apologize. And I really dislike my hormones.
Crap.
Saturday, November 8, 2008
Goals
I'm trying to set some goals for things I want to do.
1. Go to London and Paris in June. It won't be a cheap trip, but it will be worth it. If we start a family, then who knows when we'll get to travel again. Yes, I want to take kids along, but that's many years down the road. I want to do it now before I have much energy, in the form of small bodies in need of mom, taken from me.
2. Sign up for an 8K race in March. The first meeting to start training is coming up on November 22nd. I have no intention of actually "racing," but I do think having something to run/walk for is a good idea.
Friday, November 7, 2008
Quoth the Palin
From an AP Report:
Said Palin on Friday: "The Alaska voters and me not be a dictator, won't be telling anyone what do to."
'Dat's right. An' I ain' no swagga jacka neither.
Number Game
Over the summer I started working out. I had neglected to stay in shape in my first year of marriage, and so last summer it was my primary goal to lose some inches and pounds. I am happy to report that I have lost about 1.5 inches from my hips and thighs, and about an inch from my arms. The strange thing is that this shrinkage began over the summer, but I didn't lose any weight. I remained at around 139. Lately I haven't worked out as much simply because I have been very busy during the week. I have noticed that my muscle tone is not so great....and guess what! I lost weight! So, I think I would like to be toned, even if it means putting on pounds of muscle. I don't want to be skinny and soft. I'd rather be slimmer and toned, personally. :)
Wednesday, November 5, 2008
What Went Wrong
So I'm seeing analyses of what happened for McCain on the news. Before I read what everyone else thinks, I'll put my thoughts out there.
1. Sarah Palin. More than anything else with McCain, Palin was the reason I had firmly decided not to go for McCain.
2. Preaching to the Choir. In all of the attack ads and speeches made by both McCain and Palin, not once did they say anything that would reach out across the aisle, so to speak, that would appeal to other voters who were not already part of their base. Many times, I felt as though I was just watching them go by the old Republican playbook, which is to say that all Democrats are Godless Socialists who want to tax and spend and love big governments. Oh, and also: 9/11 and act on all of your fears. Oh, and the terrorists hate us for our freedom. Don'cha know?
3. I never felt like McCain's campaign had any clear strategy for winning. It seemed as though they changed course on a daily basis, and tried everything they could. The only problem is there was no consistency with their message, other than "Maverick."
4. Speaking of Reagan does little to get our pulses going. McCain often referred to the 80s, when many of us were either kids, or we don't have such great political memories of those times. It doesn't take much to remember all of the crap that happened back then.
5. Hate and fear. I REALLY disliked Sarah Palin's attacks of "liberals." I know McCain almost switched parties in 2001, but Palin did just about everything she could to make herself and her party look like a bunch of white, narrow-minded bigots. Even though I know that's not true, I believe she did a lot of damage to her party, and to McCain.
6. McCain's campaign was not on the ground early enough. Because of the contentious battle fir the Democratic ticket, Obama had his people in VA back in January, if not earlier. McCain finally set up camp here in July. 7 months is an eternity in campaign life. I believe he was way too late.
7. In 2004 Kerry started running out of money, so he pulled his campaign offices out in VA and one other state. I wanted to volunteer for him, only to find that the offices were being closed down! So when I saw McCain doing the same thing, I knew he was in trouble. If anything, he should have targeted the blue states as well, and tried his hardest to get his voice out. Obama was here many times in the past few weeks. It turned out that my state was pretty important in this election.
So, that's what I think went wrong. I don't dislike McCain. I just intensely dislike Palin. Plus, it feels pretty cool to be a part of history.
Tuesday, November 4, 2008
Amazed
I hoped.
But I didn't believe it would happen.
I was wrong.
Barack Obama just won the presidency.
It's cool to be a part of history--and a good part at that.
Monday, November 3, 2008
Several thoughts for today
1. When B and I have kids, our social lives will inevitably change. We won't necessarily lose our current friends who do not have children, but more than likely we will hang out with our friends who do have children. We need to be on their good graces for when the time comes. B said as much yesterday when we were talking about our friends.
2. I don't want to have a boy with the same name as my husband. We were discussing kids and names, and he said "Little B." I apologized and told him that it was enough to have to call out his name, and I didn't want to have to double the efforts on calling his name. I know it's an homage to the father to name the first son after the dad, but I just can't do it, if we do have a boy one day. And I can also say that the name will definitely NOT be Magnum. I hope we have a girl, whenever we do have children. (And I am afraid that we won't be able to have children.)
3. I met a couple that has a divorce in its future. I suppose I've been around dysfunctional parents enough to know what's coming down the road. I feel badly for their kids, but I can see trouble coming. You know something's up when the mother looks at her daughter's teacher and says, "I don't have a problem, but her father is the one who has the problem," after which she tightly smiles at her husband and he narrowly grimaces back. Yikes. Poor little girl. I know these silent fights all too well. I learned all of the call signs long ago.
4. Regarding Facebook. I find it odd that there are people out there who literally "friend," every single person they've ever known, whether or not they are actually "friends," with each other. Moreover, some of those "friends," were never friends at all. I suppose popularity is all in the numbers, but when all is said and done, does it really matter how many friends you had on Facebook? I don't think so, but I know one guy that literally has 1,200 friends on FB. I am one of them, and I know that although he was a social acquaintance, he was never a friend, per se. I've been tempted to add all of the people that I actually know, which would bump my numbers up to well over 100, at least, but somehow I just feel weird about actually doing it. Maybe this is just a manifestation of my shyness, and a manifestation of other people's outgoing nature. I'm not sure, but I haven't decided what I should do.
5. Cookies and cream brownies are good. Damn good.
'Nuff said.
Saturday, November 1, 2008
The Changing by One Man
Yesterday I heard a rhetorical question that I am sure has been asked around the country as we approach Election Day. "How can one man really change things, anyway?" The cynical, apathetic side of me agrees. But then I think of a video that is on YouTube.
It talks about the greatest people in history and the changes they made in society that changes our world. Each of these people were taunted, told they couldn't do what they want to do. The video shows Michael Jordan, Thomas Edison, Walt Disney, Lincoln and Lucille Ball as several examples of people who were told to give up. They were told that they were stupid or couldn't achieve. Lincoln ran for senate EIGHT times before he actually won.
Then I come back to the question, "How can any one person change anything?" Ask that to Alexander Graham Bell, without whom we would not have phones, cell phones, text messaging, etc. Ask that to Einstien, who revolutionized physics as the world knew it. Ask that to any of the people who have changed our world forever, and although I doubt they realized the impact they were making, I doubt they let the voices of the cynics rule their thoughts and actions. To be sure, there were those who were trying to do the same thing, and so they were not the very first ones to do it (Walt Disney was not the first animator to put sound to his films). They were just the first ones to stand up to the opposition and spoke up louder than the others. Their message was the clearest and the most meaningful to the most people.
Yes, one person can make a difference. Yes, one person can change things. The changes are often not seen for years, if not decades, but yes, one person can change the world. They are the ones who fight and don't listen to all of the naysayers. They are the ones who believe in themselves, even when no one else believes in them.
Friday, October 24, 2008
Costumes Circa 1981
Ah, yes, Halloween. It is arriving soon, and thankfully it will be over soon.
My classroom has been adorned in pumpkins and fall decor since the beginning of the month. Today we watched "It's The Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown," as a reward for good behavior (and quite honestly a reward for me, too).
We have a Halloween party on Friday, and I can honestly say that I am SO happy it's on a Friday. Kids are no good for school on a sugar hangover from Halloween. They come into class with bags of candy for snacks, which I (yes, the mean teacher) allow them to have only one piece, and the rest are put away for safe eating on the bus and at home. Yes, I am happy it's on a Friday this year.
What is interesting is that I don't remember this holiday being such a big deal when I was a kid. Sure, we had parties and costumes, but that was all outside of school. We didn't have Halloween parties, especially in Jerry Fallwell land, and we most certainly did not have elaborate costumes, although I do remember one kid dressing up like a coo-coo clock, and I thought that was so creative, but that was at a party that I had when I was in the second grade.
Incidentally, I learned how to pluralize nouns then because I wanted to make signs that said Careful! Bumps! for the party, and I put an apostrophe in the word BUMPS, and my mother made me redo the sign. I learned then that plural words do not have apostrophes, and if you make that mistake, undoing it can take forever!
Buying a costume back then wasn't very complicated. You had a mask and a plastic smock-like robe, painted to look like the body of whoever your character was supposed to be. We picked out our cheap costumes at a local drug store, went home and eagerly took them out well before the righteous day, and slapped those flimsy plastic masks on our faces. I can still feel the snap of the rubber band attached to mask onto my fine brown hair. My poor hair was snapped and broken each time I put on my mask.
As I peered out of the eyeholes I could feel my breath, hot and sticky on the plastic mask. Somehow, I never quite felt like the character I was supposed to be. Even though costumes weren't nearly as complicated as they can be today, I never really felt good about those costumes; which I suppose is why my mother started to sew my own costumes, and why those sewn costumes were re-used over and over again. We were green before green was in.
It is definitely true that Halloween is so much more complicated than it ever was before. But at least kids today don't have to wear those cheap costumes. They have alternatives and choices--perhaps too many. I wonder what tales kids of today will tell their kids. Will they tell of simpler times, or will they reflect on a time of having more than they do at that time? I don't know. But I do know I wish I had a picture to remind me. For now, these memories stay etched in my mind, laid to show in this little blog about Halloween.
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
Take me back....
Today I had a blast from the past and it was awesome. It was library day, and one of my kids brought his Leggo catalog with him to view with his friends. On the back cover of the catalog there was an impossibly large Leggo construction of the Taj Mahal. Just looking at the picture brought back memories of pain in my fingertips from pinching together tiny Leggo blocks when I was a kid. I asked one of my students if building with Leggos ever hurts his fingers. He said that his fingers didn't hurt, but that is because of this new-fangled lever-like device that allows you to pry the pieces apart without suffering the burns from pressing those tiny pieces together. I have to admit, I did not like Leggos because they hurt my fingers too much. I suppose I am not the only one, or else they wouldn't have come up with the handy-dandy lever.
The kids flicked through the pages of the catalog and I stopped them when they came to the Star Wars toys. Just the mere mention of Star Wars sends me back to my childhood. I was not a girl who played with baby dolls. I had stuffed animals (and could never get rid of a single one in all of my years--I've donated, but even today I have my most favorite stuffies tucked away in a trunk for safekeeping) and I had Barbies, but never baby dolls. I also loved the toys that boys played with. He-Man. I had She-Ra and my best boy friend had He-Man and we played with our figurines together. Construx. But Star Wars falls into a whole separate category.
When I saw the page of Star Wars models, I began to tell the boys about all of the Star Wars things I had. At first, they were fairly nonchalant. I told them I loved R2-D2 when I was little. But then I had them in the palm of my hand when I told them I had the Millennium Falcon. Their eyes widened with disbelief. How could their teacher own such a thing? They pointed to one of the giant Storm Trooper transports from Empire Strikes Back, thinking that I didn't know what it was. They told me that it makes noises and was really cool. I proudly informed them that I had one, and it took 6 D batteries and made noises. Then more bombs dropped when I told them about being the proud owner of an Eewok village. They exclaimed "YOU HAD AN EEWOK VILLAGE? THOSE ARE REALLY RARE!" I nodded and said, "Yep, and I even had Yoda's little hut that he lived in."
I am now a god.
Who knew teachers could be so cool?
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
Food for Thought
A colleague of mine just got a bad grade on a class she is taking. I don't know what class it was for, but for second I thought about when I was in college I got an F on the first part of this paper I had to write for a class in "Research Methods in Political Science." Snooze. I was so mortified by my failing grade (I had never gotten anything below a B in college on my papers); in class I sat and bawled. And then I was pissed. So I fought back and got an A on the rest of the paper. When I was a student teacher my final evaluation was satisfactory, but it was not as good as I would have liked. I had a terrible student teaching experience and hated that my poor cooperating teacher essentially screwed me over by not providing any guidance during my student teaching. So I got pissed, and I was determined to overcome that evaluation. My professional teaching experience has gone well in comparison to that first amateur attempt at teaching.
I wonder, when one fails, is it normal to get mad like I do? I don't know if my feistiness is always a good thing (ask my husband), but I think being feisty comes in handy. I suppose I could just roll up into a little ball and slide away, but instead, I become angry. I supposed it's a general feeling of "F You" to the person who graded me, and a determination to prove him or her, and myself, wrong. But is this normal? I don't know.
Kids think the darnedest things...
This morning I had a little talk my kids about doing their classroom jobs. I told them that I am not going to remind them to do their assigned jobs. If they want to be rewarded for doing their jobs, then they need to take the initiative to do the work. Here's how the conversation went:
Me: Now, I don't have anyone to tell me to do my job. No one tells me to plan my lessons. No one tells me how to teach you guys. I know what I am supposed to teach, but how I do it is up to me.
Student: Really? No one tells you?
Me: Really.
Student: But doesn't Mrs P (principal) tell you what sheets to COPY?
Me: Uh, no.
Student: I always thought Mrs P told you all what to use and what not to use.
Okay, apparently my principal doesn't tell me what to teach, but she does make me run copies of things.
Later on in the conversation we rambled on to how the kids were placed into each class.
Student: So you didn't get to choose who was in your class?
Me: No.
Student: So you have no idea who you're getting?
Me: No idea.
Student:So who chooses?
Student 2: I thought a computer just ran a list and placed each group. (I'm thinking they think this because there is a computer generated list that is printed out in August.)
Me: No, what actually happens is your 4th grade teacher has a stack of cards with your name on it, and they literally shuffle the cards and put each name under each teacher for the next grade. They choose who goes into each class. You're in this room for a reason because they try to match up personalities of students and teachers.
DEAD SILENCE. Obviously this is a total revelation. I wish I could say we had a more sophisticated way of doing this, and I'm sure the computer does it in middle and high school, but in elementary, it's much more rudimentary.
I wonder what else kids think about the world in general.
Monday, October 20, 2008
Playing Hooky Has Its Rewards
On Friday I went and got a massage, but I didn't go to school. I go to this little hole in the wall place that is decently priced. I paid $55 for an hour massage. Well, on the plus side of it, I am now even more flexible than I was when I went in. On the negative side of it, they discovered an injury in my lower back right around my right hip.
Apparently I tore a tendon down there and have been compensating for it for years now. I'm actually suspicious that I may have injured it when I was about 13. I used to play basketball and when I charged the court I could feel my hips zig zagging their way as I ran furiously to keep the ball in my control. Unfortunately, I think I probably ripped the tendons as I ran. I am apparently double-jointed in my hips as well, and according to my massage therapist, I am also more likely to really hurt myself. So we fast forward 15 years and I am laying on the massage table with the therapist asking rhetorically "what is this?".
Saturday was a painful day. When I woke I could feel tension in my back and I knew it would be a bad day; which is really too bad because I was supposed to go to see my dad.
Yesterday wasn't so bad. I heard tendons popping, but there was no pain.
Today I went on a three mile walk which took me about 45 mins. When I got to the point where I turn around I was able to bend down and put my hands on the ground with my legs almost straight! Yay!
So, although my massage discovered an old problem, I am thrilled that I can now bend down without pain, and for the first time in a long time, I did not have any muscle pain in my abs as I walked. Now that is a valuable day off. :)
Sunday, October 19, 2008
I Always Knew
That I liked Colin Powell. I've been a fan of his for at least 12 years. This may come as a surprise to some, but as I have said in the past, I am not strictly Democrat or Republican. I have always labeled myself an independent because it allows me to vote on the issues and not for the party. So yes, I have liked him for a long time. And now, he has not let me down. Thank you, Colin Powell, for saying what has needed to be said, for a very long time.
I also want to say that when the Iraq War first started, I was naive to think that my country's leader would not lead us astray. In my heart, I did not feel that it was the right thing to do, but from everything I heard and saw on TV, I supported it in the beginning. Colin Powell was the main reason why I supported it. He presented "evidence," to suggest that WMDs were being produced in Iraq (which we now know was just a cover to deter Iran from attacking Iraq), and so I trusted. Then we all found out that the evidence had been falsified by other countries who wanted vengeance against Iraq, and the US was once again used as a tool between two other countries. How badly I felt for Colin Powell! Could you imagine going before the world's leaders, presenting them with evidence that you believe to be real, only to find out that you were given false information? I can't even imagine being in that situation. But I do believe that ever since he was wronged, he has been trying to find a way to do the right thing. So once again, I thank him for saying what needed to be said.
I am so tired of this culture of hate and fear that has been propagated by the right wing. I am so tired of people failing to admit that there are more than two sides to every story. There are countless sides to a story, especially when you are dealing with foreign policy. I remember writing papers on the CIA for a foreign policy class at JMU, and I kept researching the news on a daily basis (I believe the paper was about Cuba), and when I finally had to print the paper, I had to put an editorial note in it to say that the information I presented could have changed, because information changes on a second-by-second basis. If we don't treat the world as an ever changing, living organism, the our policies will not be effective.
To be sure, I cannot say that both sides haven't failed to see the multitudes of perspectives existent in this world, but I can say that I believe that one side is looking to go back to the ways of Ronald Reagan, and quite frankly, I did not enjoy growing up in a world where we are all taught to be afraid of the Russians, and where the Middle East called us "The Great Satan."(Yes, I know, I was only a kid, but those who know me know that I have a good memory--almost too good.) Those were NOT fun times. Sure, people made a ton of money, but I very clearly remember the hostage crises of the early to mid-80s, and I do NOT want more of those. I did not particularly enjoy the thought of a whole region of people hating me just because I was an American, and I am sure that Muslims feel the same way in their own countries, including the US. Yes, there are extremists in those countries, just as there are extremists right here in the US.
There is a danger in failing to see the other side's point of view. If we ignore what other people think and feel, then we will not make real, true and lasting progress in this world. We will continue to find ourselves in wars and fights where neither side is right and everyone is wrong. I can only pray that we can begin, as a nation, to move forward and work on solutions, and stop fear-mongering for our own political gains.
***
Can we just get this election over with? I don't dislike either of the candidates (but I really dislike Palin), but I am very tired of both campaigns.
Friday, October 17, 2008
Opining on the Economy
For the past year I have been reading reports of and hearing about the impending recession. Month after month we all hear the same question bounced around as ubiquitously as whether or not it will rain today. Are we headed into a recession? YES! Now let's be done with it and try to move on and work on solutions to recovering and stop worrying about whether or not it will happen, but how we will get out of it.
I also have to say that I think the drop in the stock market is long overdue. Given the decline in the housing market over the past year, especially since the sub-prime market started to melt in August 2007, there was no real reason for the Dow to be in the 14,000 territory. Anyone who has any sense would know that that number was artificial and not likely to last. In fact, much of the holding were due to (as my understanding goes) short selling, which is what investors do when they bet that the market will go down. Once a moratorium was placed on short selling we saw a huge correction in the market, which I believe had nothing to do with the bailout plan. And, upon further research into credit default swapping, which is yet another mechanism for betting that a company will go under, how is it that so many people are surprised, when they facilitated the precipitous decline? Is it really shock, or despair that the good times are over? And also, one would have to think that as the massive sell-offs continue, the money isn't disappearing; it's just going into other markets. If you're smart, now is not the time to get into those markets, but to get into stocks. I am only hoping that whoever is managing my 401(k) is getting a good deal on the mutual funds I have. For now, I choose not to worry about my statement, because I know it's down. I also know it will go back up within 10 years, so I'm not worrying about it.
For many, times were never really that good. Wages for many people across the country have been stagnate, if not declining, when adjusted for inflation. I am happy to say that my husband and I have been very fortunate to not experience this personally, but when I listen to the stories of what other people are going through, I know that times are not good for many people. I can most certainly say that we have felt the declining economy as gas, energy, food and insurance prices have gone up. We cab absorb them, for the most part, but I can also say that I am shopping in a grocery store that I haven't visited in years, just to save money. I can also say that I am much more conscientious about where I drive, how much I drive and how much I spend to drive. I rarely fill up my gas tank. Doing so is only depressing and not worth the gray cloud that hangs over my head after speeding away from the gas station. On the flip side, I believe these corrections are necessary.
As a nation we cannot go around spending blindly, taking on debts we cannot afford, all the while thinking that it doesn't matter how much we owe, as long as we make the minimum payments. Also, to be more conscientious about energy is not a bad characteristic to have. For years, Europeans have been conscientious about maintaining the cars they have so they will last for years. Their gas prices have been high for decades, and they have developed alternate routes for transportation. So that part isn't necessarily bad, it's just the impact that the prices have on manufacturing and other industries. Of course, the cost is passed on to the consumer, and so we all feel that pain.
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
Why I Love
My family:
Barry: because he is there for me whenever I need him, even when I think I don't need him.My sister: because she is the only girl who knows me better than any other girl. I don't think I would have survived my parents if we didn't have each other. I miss her so much.
Paul (BIL): because I actually understand him more than he realizes, and because I have known him for so long that he really is like a brother to me.
Bunny: because she is so much like my sister and I, and I love watching her grow up.
Tito: he has the kindest heart I have seen in a little boy.
Cole: because everything is wonderful to him.
My Dad: because he was there to pick me up when my mom dropped me (metaphorically). He needs me.
My Aunt: because she is one of the kindest people I have ever met. Who else sits down to write checks out to charities?
My Uncle: because I know him better than he thinks, for he is like my husband (but Barry does chores).
My cousin JR: Because even though he had cancer during his childhood, he meets life with excitement and enthusiasm and makes life exciting and worthwhile.
My other two cousins: because they are very kind and always on my side.
My newly discovered cousin: because she is so much like my mother's best side (from what she writes), but without any of the crazy (at least not as far as I know! Ha!).
My closest friends:
Ash: because even though I disagree with her political views, she is a great friend and any girl is lucky to have her on her side.
Val: because she is interesting, deep and compassionate.
Mel: because she is like my sister, only not so stable. We lose touch now and then, but I know that we'll talk like we just went hiking on my farm just the other day whenever we do talk. Plus, she's an only child and she needs me.
Holly: she radiates warmth.
Devan: because she is smart, funny, philosophical and nerdy, just like me. :)
Marge: because even though she is out there, she changed my ways of working with people, and she taught me how to have fun in the most dire of situations.
Katie: because she and I are so much alike, and I had forgotten after all these years!
Now: you try it. Who do you love? Why?
Wednesday, October 8, 2008
On the upside
Today I actually felt pretty good about what I am doing with my kids in class. After school two other teachers and I sat down to look at what we were going to teach this month and the next, and the coolest part was that they were both clambering over my materials to use with their kids. I believe that the key to effective teaching is not thinking about WHAT we teach, but HOW we teach. Coinciding with this belief is the idea that I have to make their learning engaging, authentic and not contrived. Now of course we could all argue that much of learning is contrived, but in actuality, I always tell my kids why they are learning what they are learning. I think that kids deserve to have justification for what they are learning. So, when I teach them, for me, it's not about the what, but its about the how. So it actually felt nice to have other teachers trying to grab what I had and use my materials in their rooms. I could be territorial and protective, but I think it's cool to see this happen! That, and it's very gratifying. :)
A Wonderful Mother
That's the title of a book I'm going to write one day.
Essential underlying message: when you meet a so-called "wonderful mother," and you have to work with her on a regular basis, take plenty of aspirin, and make sure to get some rest, because she can be very tiring.
Interpret that as you like.
And for what it's worth, I don't aspire to be a wonderful mom. I just want to be a mom who does her best, and tries to guide her kids in the right direction, but doesn't necessarily try to control the outcome of everything in her children's lives. That is very tiresome.
I got an e-mail from a parent today who was concerned that her son got an S+ on his PROGRESS REPORT for citizenship. She was worried that getting an S+ might mean that he wouldn't be accepted into a magnet school next year. Give me a freaking break. First of all, her son is no angel. He is rude and condescending. The fact that I gave him an S+ means I am a very nice teacher because the kid is not very nice and he puts down other kids and me! Secondly, he isn't perfect. I am not perfect! I doubt I got O's for Citizenship when I was a kid. Third, it's a freaking PROGRESS REPORT. Good Lord, woman! All I can say is that she is going to be in for a rude awakening when she tries to pull this controlling bullshit next year when her son goes to middle school. She can gripe and they will nod and just walk away. Knowing that lets me sleep easier at night.
Before I met her, I was told she was "a wonderful mother."
***
I feel most sorry for her son. Poor kid. To have parents who are so tightly wound must not be an easy thing to do.
Tuesday, October 7, 2008
I don't GET it
Okay, I don't get two things right now. First: School of Hard Knocks Gym.
Second: the bailout bill that was just passed supposed to help alleviate the so-called credit crunch because people have not been able to take out loans due to banks and other lenders paranoia about losing their money, right? Right. So why is it that I just read a report about how *shockingly* consumer loans were down, EVEN THOUGH a group of economists predicted it would go UP? WHY WOULD THEY PREDICT IT TO GO UP WHEN THE WHOLE BAILOUT WAS BECAUSE OF TIGHTENING CREDIT?????? Tightening credit means people can't take outloans!!!! Really, I wonder how it is that we know anything, because when we actually listen to what people say, there are so many contradictions and seemingly stupid revelations.
Also, I would also like to say that during our last bad recession in 1991 or somewhere around then, I remember hearing reporters on the news say that sales at Wal-Mart were strong, so that must be a sign that the economy was improving. Really? If more people are shopping at discount stores like Wal-Mart, doesn't that mean that their money has to go further because they have less of it? I said as much to my dad, at that time, and he just laughed because he said I had a point. I know we were shopping at Wal-Mart more, and I know we had less money than before. I doubt we were unique.
Monday, October 6, 2008
It's coming back
Last year as the days passed and I learned more about my students, I would have stories come to my mind. I still have two stories in particular come to my mind that originated from two kids I had last year. One story is about a boy who, in his own imagination, can do no wrong, but in real life, he is a bumbling and stuttering boy who blushes at the sight of a girl and trips over his words when he has to give a report. In his imagination he is a commander of troops, lawyer to the poor and hero to all. The other story is about a girl who, at a young age, believes that she is very smart until she comes into a new school where everyone is as smart, if not smarter, than she; so then she goes through a series of events which cause her to question who she is and what she can do. In the end, she has to use her strengths to help in some yet to be determined situation.
These two kids keep playing around in my head and their stories are just faint images at this time. I had thought I would write over the summer, but when I started to write, I felt like I was working. Well, I wanted the summer off. So I didn't write and I took some time to do some soul-searching. But these two kids keep playing in my mind, and lately, I am hearing new stories emerge as I get to know my new class. I am wondering if their faint outlines will darken and if I will start to see their faces better (the boy looks a lot like Fudge in Judy Bloom's Fudge books, and I can't shake that image from my mind), and if somehow they will all intertwine to become one story.
Today I started to write a new story in my mind as I listened to the kids talk to each other. I can't exactly say what the story is, but it's starting to emerge. It really started to come out after I asked the kids if they feel like they are over-scheduled and over-booked. Many of them nodded that they were. I advised that they speak up and let their parents know that they were too busy, if it was a problem for them. It was after that when a story began, but I can't really see it just yet.
BTW: I am reading Andrew Clements's "No Talking" to my kids. He is such a great writer. He really has the kids' voices perfectly written in his books.
Also, sometimes I wonder if the kids can tell that I'm lost in my thoughts sometimes when they are with me. I hear what they say and I talk with them, but at the same time, I start to think about stories and books, and I doubt they have a clue; but sometimes I wonder.
Wednesday, October 1, 2008
The Time Has Come
Ladies:
Yes, yes, I know. Caring about politics isn't cool. Many girls in my class don't care about Social Studies, even though I try my damnedest to get them to care.
But here's what I have to say: it is time for us to get into politics.
We HAVE to.
Why? Because if Sarah Palin is supposed to be the best representation for women in the US, then we do not stand a chance. If I am supposed to vote for her because she and I share the same genitalia, and because I am not smart enough to see that she is a female version of George Bush (and God forbid we have another one of IT in office), then I guess I should. But because I am more than just another woman who likes to shop, because I am someone who does like to think about things and question conventional wisdom, I will NOT vote for her.
As a woman, I know we can do better than her. If it means that we need to roll up our sleeves and get into the ring, then so be it. But I refuse to let someone like her be a representative of ME. She is not like me. She does not share the same views as I do, and I can even tell you that I do not agree with Plessy v. Ferguson, and I really don't agree with Scott v. Sanford, even though our own Sarah Palin couldn't tell you what Supreme Court cases, aside from Roe v. Wade, she disagrees with, when questioned by Katie Couric. BTW Sarah: Plessy v. Ferguson: enforced Jim Crowe (ever hear of Separate but Equal?), Scott v. Sanford: said that slaves were property, and as such, even when moved into free states, they were STILL property, meaning once a slave, always a slave. Oh, and I have to say, I really dislike Gore v. Bush (2000). Now, I am just a teacher. What's your excuse? Get a clue.
She can sit and try to belittle people who are analytical and intellectual, and it may even work. But for me, I am insulted. As women, we should all be insulted. We are smart. We SHOULD care. We SHOULD get involved.
It's times like this when I know where I came from. It's in my blood. Political passions rise within, and I feel as though one day I should run for office. I don't know that I will have any choice but to try. I may be just a teacher, but I know we can do better than Sarah Palin. What an embarrassment!
(END RANT...and it's been a long time coming.)
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
Honestly
Yesterday or the day before I was on ForeclosureListingsVA.com and I looked up the foreclosures in my area. I saw many bankruptcy listings in a posh area of Virginia Beach. These houses are listed in the multi-millions, and to be totally honest, I don't feel sorry for them at all. Yeah, it sucks to lose your house; but these very same people who are trying to sell their houses before the courts take them are the very same ones who prance around town as if they are the royalty of the area. They moved into the area and ran up the prices on the North End to the point that no one, not even they, can afford to live there. Somehow we were supposed to be in awe of their affluence. Really, I was in awe of their stupidity for buying at the height of a bubble, thinking somehow that their purchase would really make them better people in society.
I go to the "hoity-toity" gym in the area, and many of the trophy wives who live in the said area really do walk around with chips on their shoulders and rarely do you even get a glance your way. As if making a gesture towards someone they don't know is beneath them. There are some very nice people at that gym, but really, those ladies can go bankrupt for all I care. And to be totally honest, if these bankruptcies take a few Lexus SUVs (which I actually like, but wouldn't buy) off the road, so much the better. I am also watching the prices on some houses go down, and they are almost within reach for what we want to pay. The crazy part is that we're qualified to buy way more than what we want, but we know better than to bite off more than they can chew.
I suppose there really is a thing like Karma (but not actually Karma, because Karma is so much more than "what goes around comes around."). If you go around treating people like crap because you think you have more than everyone else, life will bite you in the ass. That is a fact, Jack.
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