Heh. My last post was in January 2009. Busy, much?
One of the reasons for beginning posting is that I wanted to write more often. I told myself (and a few others) that I could be writing 750 or more words daily to keep my writing up. And although the website works on a points system similar to bowling, which is kind of thrilling when you watch your points add up from day to day, it's very private. And it's totally random to brag to people who aren't using the website, which is everyone in my life, I think. So, maybe something more public?
One of the other reasons is that I am aware of how often I offer ideas to others about how to fix their problems - in the classroom, in their troops, in their homes, with their families and friends - although I hope I don't come off as the "know-it-all." (My intent is always to help, but I know it doesn't always come off that way.)
Finally, I know the amazing authors of Thirty Days and & Two More Makes Five, and they're both really inspirational to me, in both their personal and blogging lives. Because of their frequent posts, I've been reminded just how much I like blogging, even when no one's reading, and I feel like I need to get back to that.
And so, here I am. I intend to return tomorrow with the first of many unusual posts. Leave a comment if you have a question about my experience or struggles and I'll do my best to respond to it.
Sunday, April 01, 2012
Friday, January 30, 2009
In love with Wordle.net
This is a cluster I made with Steinbeck's Nobel Prize Acceptance Speech:
And one I made of SuperMama, the superhero I created with my English support students:
I really love Wordle.
And one I made of SuperMama, the superhero I created with my English support students:
I really love Wordle.
Friday, September 05, 2008
Twilight
I'm glad to be done reading the entire saga. It sucked away my non-work time completely for the last two weeks... and I mean ALL non-work time!
I was driving around dropping off kids and running errands, and the songs playing on the radio would remind me of the characters and the events. I was reading "The Nightingale" with my students, and I felt like the Nightingale's way of speaking was very like Edward's. As I changed the date on the board and put up the day's assignments, I felt like the characters were watching over my shoulder. I tossed and turned at night, haunted my images and thoughts relating to the conflicts and struggles in the books. I thought about being a Democrat at the Republican Convention as shape-shifters versus vampires, and thinking of the opposite (I'm not clear about which I am) as smelly and repulsive. I was even watching The Jungle Book and thinking about Mowgli being raised by wolves... you get where I'm going here. It's incredible.
Several friends of mine were in an endless cycle of reading, going through the entire series 7 times in 7 weeks. I thought they were crazy. Now that I've finished the last one, I understand... I want to go back to the first one and read through their beginning again. Luckily, I left it in my classroom library. It'll allow me to do the dishes and the laundry and pay bills and scrapbook... and try reading something else.
I'm not certain I want to see the movie completely. I love my image of Edward (he's a hotty in my brain), and I'm not sure I'll willing to give it up, even if it is for Cedric Diggery. But, I also don't really have a clear image of Bella, so that might be helpful. I guess the best route is to simply read the saga again before the movie comes out, which would better burn Edward's face into my head before it's threatened.
I was driving around dropping off kids and running errands, and the songs playing on the radio would remind me of the characters and the events. I was reading "The Nightingale" with my students, and I felt like the Nightingale's way of speaking was very like Edward's. As I changed the date on the board and put up the day's assignments, I felt like the characters were watching over my shoulder. I tossed and turned at night, haunted my images and thoughts relating to the conflicts and struggles in the books. I thought about being a Democrat at the Republican Convention as shape-shifters versus vampires, and thinking of the opposite (I'm not clear about which I am) as smelly and repulsive. I was even watching The Jungle Book and thinking about Mowgli being raised by wolves... you get where I'm going here. It's incredible.
Several friends of mine were in an endless cycle of reading, going through the entire series 7 times in 7 weeks. I thought they were crazy. Now that I've finished the last one, I understand... I want to go back to the first one and read through their beginning again. Luckily, I left it in my classroom library. It'll allow me to do the dishes and the laundry and pay bills and scrapbook... and try reading something else.
I'm not certain I want to see the movie completely. I love my image of Edward (he's a hotty in my brain), and I'm not sure I'll willing to give it up, even if it is for Cedric Diggery. But, I also don't really have a clear image of Bella, so that might be helpful. I guess the best route is to simply read the saga again before the movie comes out, which would better burn Edward's face into my head before it's threatened.
Thursday, August 28, 2008
Meant to be
In the last few years, especially since Pete's been alive, I've been thinking about whether or not I should be a teacher. I wonder if being a stay-at-home mom would be more suited to my current situation. It would allow me time to get the house cleaned, organized, and repaired in ways we haven't been able to do since we moved in when I was 7 months pregnant. It would allow me to volunteer in my daughter's kindergarten classroom, keep Pete home a little more to do baby-n-Mama classes and playdates, and workout more to drop the baby pounds. It would allow me to - GASP! - do more than one scrapbooked page per week. It would allow me to shrug off all the stress that comes with the school year, which affects my reading, my friendships, my energy level, my sleep, and my sex life.
But, when I took this job, I promised myself I'd give it a try for at least 5 years. God forbid I turn into a statistic.
One of my colleagues, Paul Kilkenney, once told me that it took 8 years for him to feel like he was getting the hang of teaching, and over 10 to really feel like it was not a constant struggle. He also said, which I remind myself of weekly, that all good teachers ask themselves if they should be teaching. No amount of confidence in our ability can cover up the fact that what we do in the classroom on any one day could positively or negatively affect a student's life forever. Ripples and waves.
...
The last few nights, I have not slept well. Part of that has to do with the heat in the house. (Why we bought a house with A/C when my husband won't let me turn it on, I don't know!) Part has to do with my terrible fear that something small will bite me on the foot if I leave my feet out from under the covers. (Don't ask - a completely strange story, not related to...) And part of it is that I've been sucked into the Twilight series, by Stephanie Meyer.
Heap on top of that that my daughter started kindergarten this week, and I couldn't go to her first day because it was my first day to. Oh, and a get-together with someone who seemed to really want to be my best friend, but who blew me off so many times that I decided she wasn't worth the effort. A challenge structure at my favorite digi scrapping site that very few people are taking part in. And the lack of usual support staff at my school because of the Governator's 10% across the board cut backs state-wide.
Needless to say, the pissiness crept up on my yesterday afternoon. It was unleashed when the YMCA person at my daughter's after care program asked for my ID to pick her up. That's okay, but that's the first thing she said to me. No, "Hello, welcome to the YMCA after-care building. I'm so-n-so. Are you Claire's mom? Nice to meet you!" or anything like that. Just, "If you're picking up Claire, I'll need to see your ID." Obviously, Claire will not be learning social skills from this woman.
Then, the dinner with the former friend-to-be who kept trying to get personal with me, and I tried very hard not to say anything painful to her to spread the misery.
Then, on the way home from being out late with the playdate families, I tried to call my husband on his cell twice to ask him to start a bath and make a bottle, since the kids were both up late past their bedtimes. But, he's already gotten home, taken off his jeans (with the cell phone on vibrate in the pocket), put on his pajama pants (with no cell phone in the pocket), and gone to play Rock Band or watch TV or something.
Then, I fell asleep while trying to post to my digi site about the challenges and what to do about it, so I dragged myself to bed, only to be hot and uncomfortable and wide awake! So, I stayed up reading, went to bed around 11, was woken just as a I was drifting off to sleep by the baby, and then couldn't fall asleep again for a while.
This morning, I woke up late, Claire was getting sassy with me every time I asked her to do something for me, we're out of a ton of groceries but I have yet to shop so lunches were sucky, we left late, Joe decided to take a "short cut" to his train stop which wasn't short, and then I got to school only a few minutes late for my prep. EXCEPT, when I went to my trunk to get my bags, they weren't there.... they were back at home. So I drove all the way home to get them, and got back in enough time to discover that I couldn't login to the Read 180 software to set up my students for their tests today.
I warned my 3rd period students that I was pissy. Their eyes got big.
But once I started talking to them about word parts (auto-bio-graph-y) and brainstorming and writing and such, my bad mood lifted. Quickly. I almost felt it fly out of me, like in Ghost.
...
This is a long way of saying that I think I was meant to be a teacher in this environment. Don't get me wrong, a year or two off to deal with all the stuff above would be nice. And I'm not perfect by any means. But there are very few activities that I do that change my mood so well and so fast. Golly, I hope I remember that.
But, when I took this job, I promised myself I'd give it a try for at least 5 years. God forbid I turn into a statistic.
One of my colleagues, Paul Kilkenney, once told me that it took 8 years for him to feel like he was getting the hang of teaching, and over 10 to really feel like it was not a constant struggle. He also said, which I remind myself of weekly, that all good teachers ask themselves if they should be teaching. No amount of confidence in our ability can cover up the fact that what we do in the classroom on any one day could positively or negatively affect a student's life forever. Ripples and waves.
...
The last few nights, I have not slept well. Part of that has to do with the heat in the house. (Why we bought a house with A/C when my husband won't let me turn it on, I don't know!) Part has to do with my terrible fear that something small will bite me on the foot if I leave my feet out from under the covers. (Don't ask - a completely strange story, not related to...) And part of it is that I've been sucked into the Twilight series, by Stephanie Meyer.
Heap on top of that that my daughter started kindergarten this week, and I couldn't go to her first day because it was my first day to. Oh, and a get-together with someone who seemed to really want to be my best friend, but who blew me off so many times that I decided she wasn't worth the effort. A challenge structure at my favorite digi scrapping site that very few people are taking part in. And the lack of usual support staff at my school because of the Governator's 10% across the board cut backs state-wide.
Needless to say, the pissiness crept up on my yesterday afternoon. It was unleashed when the YMCA person at my daughter's after care program asked for my ID to pick her up. That's okay, but that's the first thing she said to me. No, "Hello, welcome to the YMCA after-care building. I'm so-n-so. Are you Claire's mom? Nice to meet you!" or anything like that. Just, "If you're picking up Claire, I'll need to see your ID." Obviously, Claire will not be learning social skills from this woman.
Then, the dinner with the former friend-to-be who kept trying to get personal with me, and I tried very hard not to say anything painful to her to spread the misery.
Then, on the way home from being out late with the playdate families, I tried to call my husband on his cell twice to ask him to start a bath and make a bottle, since the kids were both up late past their bedtimes. But, he's already gotten home, taken off his jeans (with the cell phone on vibrate in the pocket), put on his pajama pants (with no cell phone in the pocket), and gone to play Rock Band or watch TV or something.
Then, I fell asleep while trying to post to my digi site about the challenges and what to do about it, so I dragged myself to bed, only to be hot and uncomfortable and wide awake! So, I stayed up reading, went to bed around 11, was woken just as a I was drifting off to sleep by the baby, and then couldn't fall asleep again for a while.
This morning, I woke up late, Claire was getting sassy with me every time I asked her to do something for me, we're out of a ton of groceries but I have yet to shop so lunches were sucky, we left late, Joe decided to take a "short cut" to his train stop which wasn't short, and then I got to school only a few minutes late for my prep. EXCEPT, when I went to my trunk to get my bags, they weren't there.... they were back at home. So I drove all the way home to get them, and got back in enough time to discover that I couldn't login to the Read 180 software to set up my students for their tests today.
I warned my 3rd period students that I was pissy. Their eyes got big.
But once I started talking to them about word parts (auto-bio-graph-y) and brainstorming and writing and such, my bad mood lifted. Quickly. I almost felt it fly out of me, like in Ghost.
...
This is a long way of saying that I think I was meant to be a teacher in this environment. Don't get me wrong, a year or two off to deal with all the stuff above would be nice. And I'm not perfect by any means. But there are very few activities that I do that change my mood so well and so fast. Golly, I hope I remember that.
Monday, July 07, 2008
My Heritage
inspired by "Heritage" by Linda Hogan, and the ISIers from '08:
From my father
I've inherited my eyes -
both their deep brown
pools framed by long
curling eyelashes
as well as
the way they see the world
as an apple waiting
to be picked from
the tree of opportunity
if only I climb high enough.
From my mother
I've inherited my
most and least
favorite traits.
I have trouble saying
no
when people want help
but I'll say yes
while swinging my
big butt and
wide birthing hips.
From my grandfather
I've inherited
my sense of humor,
my ability to laugh
'most anything off
and my intense loyalty,
or so I'm told... since
he died
years before I was born.
And from my grandmother,
I've inherited
my fertility,
my comfort in a houseful of guests,
a deep pride when I actually have time to
clean my house
and a book of family recipes
for Lebanese food which
lacks exact measurements
and relies heavily on
whim and the tongue's memory.
From my family, I've learned
stories are there if you ask,
memory fails but impressions remain,
and
growing beyond older generations'
philosophies and habits is possible,
but you'll still want to
return home no matter
how enlightened you feel.
(shitty first draft written 5/31/08)
From my father
I've inherited my eyes -
both their deep brown
pools framed by long
curling eyelashes
as well as
the way they see the world
as an apple waiting
to be picked from
the tree of opportunity
if only I climb high enough.
From my mother
I've inherited my
most and least
favorite traits.
I have trouble saying
no
when people want help
but I'll say yes
while swinging my
big butt and
wide birthing hips.
From my grandfather
I've inherited
my sense of humor,
my ability to laugh
'most anything off
and my intense loyalty,
or so I'm told... since
he died
years before I was born.
And from my grandmother,
I've inherited
my fertility,
my comfort in a houseful of guests,
a deep pride when I actually have time to
clean my house
and a book of family recipes
for Lebanese food which
lacks exact measurements
and relies heavily on
whim and the tongue's memory.
From my family, I've learned
stories are there if you ask,
memory fails but impressions remain,
and
growing beyond older generations'
philosophies and habits is possible,
but you'll still want to
return home no matter
how enlightened you feel.
(shitty first draft written 5/31/08)
Tuesday, May 13, 2008
VENT: best-laid plans
I know this is small beans in comparison to what some of you are going through, but I have to put it down somewhere. Forgive me.
We had a nice Mother's Day weekend. DH did quite a few chores, cooked for me most of Sunday, and I spent most of the day either in pajamas (yay!) or weeding (yay!).
Monday, I go to school. DH calls me around 3 and asks me if I'm feeling queasy, since he is. He wondered if it was food poisoning from the BBQ for dinner last night. I tell him I'm fine. I confirm that I have yet to hear from the kids' daycare. I got to Target to buy some gag gifts for a party at lunch for Tuesday. While in Target (and without my phone), DD's preschool calls to say she's thrown up twice and would I please come get her. Almost an hour later, when I get the call, I pick up DS (whose daycare closes earlier) and then get DD. DH says he's still queasy, but he can't stay home with DD on Tuesday because he has a big morning meeting he's running and another internation conference call in the afternoon. So we agree I'll stay home with DD - I get a sub, type up sub plans, everything's fine. DD and I even think about what we're going to do while home together: cuddle and watch a movie, read some books, maybe cut and glue stuff, work on an activity book or two, get some rest.
Tuesday morning (today) - We drop DS off at his daycare, DH off at the train, DD and I go into my classroom to get it ready for the sub; I also eat a granola bar here. We leave. We're two blocks from home when DS's daycare calls and says he's thrown up, too. So we drive past home to pick him up. We all get home and DD has 2 minutes to watch Handy Manny before I realize DS has little dots on his face, I call his doctor's office, and we're back in the car. turns out they're burst blood vessels, and it might be a sign of an infection, so off we go to the hospital to get blood drawn. Even though DS was born at the hospital, he has no record on file, and the woman refuses to create a new file in the computer for him, so she calls over to births and waits 10 minutes for something to be faxed. In the meantime, DD is constantly getting into DS's face, but I'm trying to keep them separate because I don't know if they have the same thing or not... and DS has started crying because he's effectively not had anything to eat in 4+ hours and is now solidly into his second naptim of the day, although he hasn't had a nap at all yet. Finally, the phlabotomist (sp?) calls us in and DS cries and cries, his vessels roll and they have to stick him twice to get a good sample.
We drive home, DS crying the whole time... until 3 minutes before we pull in, when he falls dead asleep. The mere opening of the minivan door wakes him, but I calm him down and put him back in the crib for a nap. He wakes up every 10 minutes to cry for 5 and then return to quiet/sleep for another 10 minutes. This goes on for about an hour and a half (my DD has watched another Handy Manny, eaten a piece of toast, had some water, and gone down for her nap by this time). I grab another piece of toast for myself and remember the amazing amount of homemade Mexican food I was going to have at that party at lunch and sigh. I decide I'm too tired to do anything and crawl into bed myself, when DH calls me to tell me he's 30 minutes away on the train... can I come get him? I tell him, no, I can't. He says he'll take a cab home, but he'll need to be on that conference call from 4-6. His trip home is completely unbidden and, frankly, useless to me, but he feels like he's helping and I'm trying not to be crabby and ungracious on the phone.
After I hang up the phone, I hear DS, still crying in his crib, so I go pick him up adn try to nurse him (but I'm dehydrated) and cuddle him (but he doesn't want to). Now I'm in the living room both frustrated that DS is awake and proud that he's FINALLY! crawling at 10.5mo. Oh, and the doctor just called and said his labs are fine - just a little viral infection. We'll have to let it run its course. Excellent.
Okay. I'm done. What a terrible day. Teaching 60 resistant freshmen high school English is more fun than today.
We had a nice Mother's Day weekend. DH did quite a few chores, cooked for me most of Sunday, and I spent most of the day either in pajamas (yay!) or weeding (yay!).
Monday, I go to school. DH calls me around 3 and asks me if I'm feeling queasy, since he is. He wondered if it was food poisoning from the BBQ for dinner last night. I tell him I'm fine. I confirm that I have yet to hear from the kids' daycare. I got to Target to buy some gag gifts for a party at lunch for Tuesday. While in Target (and without my phone), DD's preschool calls to say she's thrown up twice and would I please come get her. Almost an hour later, when I get the call, I pick up DS (whose daycare closes earlier) and then get DD. DH says he's still queasy, but he can't stay home with DD on Tuesday because he has a big morning meeting he's running and another internation conference call in the afternoon. So we agree I'll stay home with DD - I get a sub, type up sub plans, everything's fine. DD and I even think about what we're going to do while home together: cuddle and watch a movie, read some books, maybe cut and glue stuff, work on an activity book or two, get some rest.
Tuesday morning (today) - We drop DS off at his daycare, DH off at the train, DD and I go into my classroom to get it ready for the sub; I also eat a granola bar here. We leave. We're two blocks from home when DS's daycare calls and says he's thrown up, too. So we drive past home to pick him up. We all get home and DD has 2 minutes to watch Handy Manny before I realize DS has little dots on his face, I call his doctor's office, and we're back in the car. turns out they're burst blood vessels, and it might be a sign of an infection, so off we go to the hospital to get blood drawn. Even though DS was born at the hospital, he has no record on file, and the woman refuses to create a new file in the computer for him, so she calls over to births and waits 10 minutes for something to be faxed. In the meantime, DD is constantly getting into DS's face, but I'm trying to keep them separate because I don't know if they have the same thing or not... and DS has started crying because he's effectively not had anything to eat in 4+ hours and is now solidly into his second naptim of the day, although he hasn't had a nap at all yet. Finally, the phlabotomist (sp?) calls us in and DS cries and cries, his vessels roll and they have to stick him twice to get a good sample.
We drive home, DS crying the whole time... until 3 minutes before we pull in, when he falls dead asleep. The mere opening of the minivan door wakes him, but I calm him down and put him back in the crib for a nap. He wakes up every 10 minutes to cry for 5 and then return to quiet/sleep for another 10 minutes. This goes on for about an hour and a half (my DD has watched another Handy Manny, eaten a piece of toast, had some water, and gone down for her nap by this time). I grab another piece of toast for myself and remember the amazing amount of homemade Mexican food I was going to have at that party at lunch and sigh. I decide I'm too tired to do anything and crawl into bed myself, when DH calls me to tell me he's 30 minutes away on the train... can I come get him? I tell him, no, I can't. He says he'll take a cab home, but he'll need to be on that conference call from 4-6. His trip home is completely unbidden and, frankly, useless to me, but he feels like he's helping and I'm trying not to be crabby and ungracious on the phone.
After I hang up the phone, I hear DS, still crying in his crib, so I go pick him up adn try to nurse him (but I'm dehydrated) and cuddle him (but he doesn't want to). Now I'm in the living room both frustrated that DS is awake and proud that he's FINALLY! crawling at 10.5mo. Oh, and the doctor just called and said his labs are fine - just a little viral infection. We'll have to let it run its course. Excellent.
Okay. I'm done. What a terrible day. Teaching 60 resistant freshmen high school English is more fun than today.
Saturday, January 26, 2008
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