doxycycline

dammit. i'm taking anti-malarial medications.

i was just net surfing about the refugee camp and it took me to the blogs of volunteers now there (in my room!). a young woman who emailed me to ask things before she went is now incredibly sick from malaria. dayton has malaria.

do i want malaria? hell no. is it pretty sure i'll get it if i don't take the medication? um, yeah.

i guess it's a no-brainer. i hate the damn stuff, makes me puke and i have to take it a whole month after i'm back.

well, i won't take it when i'm there for the long-term, but i guess i will for now. sigh.

ok, michele, you're right.

and i have to start it tomorrow. ugh.

Me to doctor

She asks when I'm leaving for Africa, when I'm returning, and shakes her head amazed.

Me: "I need a hyperactive thyroid to live my life."

She agrees.

See? She agreed.

Then I say I have none of the symptoms, and again she agreed. No high blood pressure, no weight loss, etc.

She: Heart palpitations?
Me: Never. (A mild lie. When I drink 8 double lattes, I can cause 'em. But I don't do that much anymore.)
She: Diarrhea?
Me: Only sometimes when I travel, and then it's something else, because I drink the water.
She: Periods normal?
Me: Completely for my entire life, like clockwork.

And so on. I got no symptoms. I didn't tell her about the cycling and all that because she didn't ask, and I don't even want to get into it with her about why I refuse to medicate for bipolar disorder and how I manage my mania myself, muchas gracias. She's nice and I like her and I don't want to lie to her, but I ain't medicating.

But, bloodtest for hormone levels and then we'll talk. Whatever. I didn't say to her, "I'll give my blood up, woman, but I ain't taking no stinkin' pills. I ain't killing my thyroid, and I ain't eating salt" (which, of course, she wouldn't require of me, but there's that iodine thing).

All that, with a stop at the bank, took me an hour and a half. Sheet. That's a lot of time to drive across town - but I did choose to go during rush hour. Just for a break. Finished short paper, now on to editing long one, finishing up presentation, and THEN WHAT?? That is what I think has me most stumped. It's only 5:44 PM and I could be finished with everything by 6:30 or 7:00. I didn't expect to be like this. I can't really start studying for exams or anything yet, and don't really want to start a book I can't finish before I go to Africa, and have no more shopping to do (nothing more will fit in my suitcases).

Chillax? I don't know how!

I don't think I'll suffer the same problems as others when I finish my dissertation, because I'll have a gazillion things lined up to do next - because I always do. It's the hyperactive thyroid I refuse treatment for. I couldn't be me without it.

it's like that

After school, two of my students were hanging outside a classroom with another kid I didn't know. I asked what they were doing, and the other kid kept answering. "I just wanna know why two of my favorite kids are hanging outside like that." "Who are two of your favorite kids?" "Well, since I don't know you, clearly the other two and not you." "Oh, so it's like that!"

Oh yeah. It's always like that. Every time a kid says that to me, it's always YES.

I got pulled out of my class without warning today for a long-ass interview with a school improvement team hired with state funds. Does our school need improvement? Hell yeah. Could I have maybe been warned so I could plan for my kids to not sit there with nothing to do? Yeah. Flanders covered and he couldn't even teach them how to read Sonnet 29 by Shakespeare. Good grief. "They had a hard time understanding," he said. "Yeah, that's why it has to be taught and explained to them." Just shoot me.

But this team, they asked me all sorts of questions and they did not like my answers. Like all about my job, and I'm like, look nobody trains me or tells me jack, and I do the best I can, and I'm leaving. I don't have short-timer syndrome, not about doing what I need to. Anyway, it was not pleasant.

And just now my doctor called and says I show signs of hyperactive thyroid (those people are supposed to be THIN! Which I sure ain't) and I have to do a full hormone lab workup. Fuck me.

And now I'm on hold with the front desk, which costs me 10 cents a minute, but at least it's playing "Besame" which is a lovely song.

My last good doctor (also an African-American woman, by the way) told me I showed hyperactive thyroid, too, and I kind of dodged her about it and then changed doctors. I'm not willing to kill part of my thyroid or go on medication or anything else. Yeah, I lose too much hair and my brain goes way too quickly sometimes, but if it's already hard for me to lose weight, I can only imagine what I would be like with medication that slows it all down. And not just that - but I don't trust medication at all, really - especially because I've heard SO many horror stories about thyroid medication problems - killing too much thyroid and being on drugs forever, etc. I don't have really any of the hyperthyroid symptoms, except for fast cycling, and most doctors don't know that connection.

Ugh. I don't want to deal with this.

paper finished!

Woo hoo! I'm on page 23 and only have to write the conclusion - which I'll do tomorrow after I print a rough draft to reread and edit tomorrow evening. Woo hoo! So, now I just need to write another 4-page paper tonight ... puke.

So, about 10 hours ago I was getting started. That ain't bad, about 2 pages an hour. Gee, at that rate, I could write my dissertation in 10 days to 2 weeks. Ha. Hahaahahahaha.

Maybe I'll go wrap little presents instead. I still have tomorrow evening to edit this big paper and write the 4-pager. Blah blah blah blah. But, these are the last papers I have to write for classes here (at the "Just Shoot Me Already" university). Oh, no they're not - I'll have one more big one for an independent study for next term. So, almost the last. But my next big thing is my prospectus, which must be written as soon as I get back from Africa.

The reason I get worked up about them, even though I can whip them out in a day, is that there's so much preparation that goes into them before I sit at the computer. I read 30+ books and articles for this paper today. OK, I didn't read every page of the books that I cited, but that is unusual for me and usually I do. And then I mulled everything over.

OK, so, what do I have to look forward to this week?

1. Payday!
2. Giving my presentation on Tuesday and being done with it.
3. Turning in my papers on Tuesday and Wednesday and writing no more this term.
4. And of course, the very best - I get to see my man! Woo hoo! Next week at this time I'll be with him. I get to meet his daughter, and be in Africa, and all good things! Wo hoo!

Hm ... I was thinking that eating today only See's chocolates and a chicken salad was a good idea, but I see the simple carbs have beaten me again and now I'm hungry. Time to scrounge the refrigerator.

international frustration

So, I called Dayton this morning just to confirm everything. And the conversation was fine until he wondered why I was planning to keep my suitcases of books at Morris's house. "Are you in business with Morris now?" "Yes! He helps me with my research. You know that." "I don't have a problem with-"

With what? I don't know. My calling card hung me up. And now it won't let me through.

Did we need another reason to disagree and misunderstand each other? NO. I've wondered when his jealousy would be expressed - Morris and I are really close, and Morris is in love with me, and he's my right-hand man ("my best workmate"). To do my research, I need Morris. What did Dayton mean by "business"? Oy. And him not understanding the nature of my work only makes it all worse.

And, Dayton has malaria again, which can only be making him cranky.

And the stupid lines are busy now. I can spend hours trying to reach him, but I have SO MUCH TO DO. Papers to write! Laundry to wash! Packing to complete!

So, this is a no-win. If I spend the time to keep calling him, I'll be frustrated when I reach malaria boy and we talk it through to be clear. If I don't, then we're both frustrated with not having things clear.

six months

I met Dayton almost six months ago. We slept together shortly after meeting (hey, I held out for almost a week, for us to get to know each other), which in his mind put us in a Serious Relationship.

This is the craziest six months relationship I've ever had. 8,500 miles apart, he and I combined have been in about 11 different countries since we met.

So, I make sucky Arabic coffee. I've read directions but it's not as good by me. I guess I have to keep trying.

Roommate just passed on a small box of See's Candies to me which was probably passed on to her by boyfriend. Who cares? I'll take anybody's chocolate hand-me-downs.

Back to reading. Peter Trudgill's Sociolinguistics is actually quite good and interesting. Will finish it, read through my articles again, and slam out 21 more pages.

Packing also goes well. Stress will wait until Thursday night.

dreams

I dreamt last night that I got an unexpected check for $10,000. That, in conjunction with a recurring 6 of Pentacles, is surely a sign. Next year looks very good, if I can just get through the next 15 weeks. I won't be rich next year by any account, but I might bring in enough $$ to make it not be a super-stressful year.

Next week at this time I will be on the airplane, hearing the travel nurse's voice in my head as I do the silly exercises to avoid blood clots. I remember in college my best friend almost died of a blood clot, but fortunately I took her to a mental hospital before that and they caught it in the health screening. My brother, too - the blood clot, not the mental hospital (yet).

It's a 19 hour flight there (plus the 2 hour wait and 1-2 hour drive before, plus the hour wait [customs, etc.] and 1-2 hour drive after) and 24 hours back (going through Nigeria adds some time, plus a little longer layover in Frankfurt). I'm spending inordinate time figuring out what to take in my carry-on - particularly reading material. Will I really read "Central Problems in Social Theory" if it's competing with seeing Mr. and Mrs. Smith again (which, honestly, I can watch without the sound for as good an effect now - and really I'll be choosing [if I get a choice on these airlines] The Family Stone and Good Night, and Good Luck [and that then would only be paying $500 a movie, and that's not counting the flight back, which might make it $250/movie - and so much more convenient than getting in my truck and driving to Hollywood Video])?

Must - write - sociolinguistics paper - today. Have most reading done, but have to commit it to computer. The prof wants political projecticizing, and I'm not comfortable doing that without my own data. So, I gotta get over that for 25 pages.

I know that not taking anti-malarial medication is reckless endangerment to myself, but I figure it makes up for the times I don't snowboard without a helmet. I just don't want to get it this trip because it'll be a pain in the ass to get it treated properly here - running around to different labs and appointments would so suck with a spiked fever and hallucinatory chills, while trying to prepare for my written PhD qualifying exams. At least at the camp, worst case scenario is Dayton chucks me in a wheelbarrow and carries my sorry ass to the health clinic, which isn't far from him (or take me in a taxi to Accra, with better facilities) and I get the quick blood test and round of treatment, and a little break from fieldwork and that knowing look from people that put me in their crowd now.

OK, I'm shamelessly procrastinating now - looking up British Airways meals and movies. Time to buckle down. I'm just - I'm tired of buckling down. I'm trying to write in a day what it takes most people weeks to write - if I write 20+ pages per week while dissertation-writing, I'll finish in a term which is extremely fast. But that doesn't seem unreasonable - but in a day? Ugh. I've done, and can/will do it again, but I just don't feel like doing it today.

I feel like shopping. Not that I have extra $$, but I feel like making those kind of choices instead.

unbiased news

In keeping with the unbiased perspective this blog always makes a point to present, I must confess the following:

My students were nearly completely wonderful today, the principal was gone for the third day in a row, and the Asst. Principal left me alone - it was a wonderful day in my neighborhood.

And now that I have confessed, it will never happen again. Well, only 15 more Fridays.

trauma

If I go to DC next year, then I would probably want to take my truck. But, driving a truck in DC would kill me probably - trying to park and all that - oy! And this after keeping it unused for several months ... hm ... I get quite serious about selling it and replacing it with a small car. And if I'm going to do that, I should do it soon ... because I hate driving the big thing now often, and gas mileage isn't fantastic.

But selling and buying a vehicle - trauma.

My sister called me. "How did you get this number?" Trauma. Enough said.

I cannot force myself to finish this boring chapter or write the paper I need written or read the other three articles I need to read or anything else I need to. Well, maybe I'll head to bed.

But this trauma that won't leave my head ... I have this student who gives me The Creeps. We're doing ok now, he's not so pushy, but there's still something off about the dude. So this other kid was giving him a really hard time a while ago - and the 2nd kid told me that he had seen Creepy Kid at a bar (2nd kid accompanies his brother's band) dancing with "old ladies" who were hitting on him - like in their 70's - and kid #1 was so drunk he was way into it and getting their phone numbers and bragging about it.

And then today Kid #1 was trying to tell me about it and I was just like "Ew!" That is such a nasty image, Creepy 16-year-old doing 70-year old ladies.

There are some things I just SO do not want to know about my kids' lives.

the Italian noun

My rowdy class might make good. I may have to keep sending a kid out every day, but they might do ok.

I gave a rash of shit to Martin who put on a test that Sor Juana Ines de la Cruz was Italian. WTF?! So, we give him a hard time, but today when they were writing about her, another kid wrote that she was a "noun." And somebody said, "But a nun is a noun!" and another cried out, "Sor Juana, the Italian noun!"

They're geeks like me, they just don't know it.

I had to send a kid to the office to talk to the vice principal about how another kid is sexually harassing her. The asst. principal had just interceded on the sexual harasser's behalf so I was not dealing - I'll deal with it tomorrow. I sent her up with Kris, who is THE BEST CAMPUS SUPERVISOR EVER. He SO rocks. He has SO got my back. I'm SO glad he's back - he was gone all last week.

I said to Kris this morning, "You know, I just sometimes got these coupla kids who are obnoxious and I need somewhere to send them. Do you know any teachers who can handle that?" And not only did he know, but he went and got that teacher, and then they both accosted the kid who is most obnoxious, and that teacher came and talked to me, and Kris said he'd be happy to be a first-line of intervention, and then the teacher went and got in Flanders (the AP)'s face about "how dare he send somebody back to my classroom that had been sent out," etc. (and he told me, "He doesn't fuck with me. Now he won't fuck with you." Which, I gotta say, is cool).

And I don't think they think that I just can't handle discipline - I think they see that it's important to work as a team.

This is kinda what I feared. I don't want to bond to my school peeps because it makes me sad to leave them and it makes them feel like they wasted time with the new kid.

You know what I really hate? I was at ToysRUs the other day, getting a Rubik's cube to take to Africa for when I don't have yahoo games anymore, and I heard this woman yelling at her kids and I thought, "Holy shit. Is that how I sound?" I don't want to sound like that. No BS. Now one warning and then they're out, because I'm not going to be a harpy at 'em.

I got another kid to have a cop conversation. He had skipped a page on the test yesterday, so I was going to let him finish so I called his teacher this morning and she sent him over - but instead of coming to my classroom, HE WALKED OFF CAMPUS TO BAKER'S TO USE THE RESTROOM. So I went over to the teacher's classroom and was like, did you send him over? And she said yeah, and then I was talking to somebody else, and Kris came a few minutes later dragging the kid along - who TOLD US what he had done. Which is totally against the rules - that's truancy. So, I told the AP, Flanders, and he called the cops who called in the kid and gave him an official ticket.

Will this kid EVER forgive me? Probably not, which is too bad because I really like the kid. But when I got off the phone with Flanders who was asking some stupid detail, I turned to the class and said, "Do not EVER TELL ME WHEN YOU BREAK THE LAW. Because I will bust you." What kind of stupid is that, to tell your teacher?

Yup, here's me, making friends and influencing people.

And one of my other kids, who was really doing well for me, well he's up for expulsion because he and a pal were shooting with a pellet gun one day on the way to school and a resident followed them to the school and called the cops who searched the kids' cars and found weapons. What kind of stupid is that?

Yup, my kids are a special kind of stupid, I guess.

All I can say is that I have travel-itis SOOOOO bad. I have so much to do and don't want to. I watched General Hospital. Now I'll take a walk. I called Jenny to see if she wanted to go shopping. I will eventually hit panic mode and start all my work, but for right now, all I can think about is getting on that jet plane in 8 days and 2 hours.

to the mines

How do I feel about work? When I get up at the crack of dawn and check my email and see my to-do list?

I keep thinking, "How dare my job interfere with what I should be doing" - the reading, the writing, the researching. How dare I be forced to spend 6+ hours there each day? How dare I pretend to care? I have better things to be doing!

Yesterday was my first department meeting without Mr. Principal Man, and let's just say it's an unhappy crowd. Everything I've bitched about here, they ranted about at length. I can at least say, "Self, you'll be outta here in 16 weeks" - but they see no light at the end of the tunnel. Mr. PM just adds layer upon layer of "good idea gone bad" upon what is already an overstretched 45 minutes.

I face a dilemma every day - whose wishes do I follow? If it's the kids', then we'd sit around talking about partying all day long. OK, not those wishes. If it's the principal's, then we rush through one badly done activity after another, never finishing anything really and never connecting things together. OK, not those, but I'm getting evaluated next week and it will be an unhappy scene because I'm insubordinate. If it's the district's, I focus exclusively on a textbook that doesn't help my students meet the standards that they need to master in order to graduate. OK, maybe those, with amendments.

That's what I'm doing. Jeez, if I weren't an experienced (stubborn) teacher, I would be having a nervous breakdown. Or maybe I wouldn't, because I'd be unaware that there's anything better.

So, we really went into two different camps. The department head, who is resigning multiple responsibilities because of health issues, plans to confront Mr. PM, and most of us agree about that. But another guy thinks it's much better to be underhanded and just do whatever we want.

That is the problem, my friends, that underhandedness. Mr. PM needs to understand and be held accountable, and who better than us to do so?

I know that I'm a warrior. While fighting is not what I like to do, I don't shy from it because I think sometimes it's important - especially to speak the truth to power. People give me a hard time for discord with authority figures, but if everybody else would stand up to them on the small stuff, I wouldn't feel the burden of doing it all the time.

I'm a warrior because I've lost so many times and I've realized that there's far worse things than losing a fight - like losing my integrity.

Ugh. I just got email from Morris (my "research assistant" at the camp) and the camp manager is ON HOLIDAY THE DAY I'M THERE. Fuck. Well, so the trip now is not business. Screw it. No stress, it'll all work out. Morris be da man.

Have I mentioned that I hate my job? And that makes me so unfair to everybody involved.

the ME-Special

Characteristics of a Monkey: Can easily influence people.
"Hey Michele, wanna go to Bobo's in about an hour when I'm out of class?" (I ask while sneaking out to "go to the restroom" - oops, I mean call her)
"I dunno ... [excuse, excuse]"

She was a soft sell. Like getting Karen to visit me in Ghana. They both protest and have good cerebral reasons, but they know they really want Healthy and Fresh Chinese Food or an Exotic Adventure.

So we went, and I was a little flustered because Jenny wasn't there and how could we share Orange Tofu with Mixed Vegetables because I SAH (sure as hell) didn't want two orders?

Let's just say, that's now the ME Special. I want Jimmy to put it on the menu like that. And since I easily influence people, because I am a Monkey, that should happen soon. Because being a Monkey I'm easily confused, so my menu items need my name next to them.

Plan B

I asked a prof to be on my orals committee and she will be out of town for the whole term so suggested I got to Plan B.

How did she know, Jenny, how did she know? I am PLAN GIRL! When I'm not being SABOTEUSE! (Well, sometimes Saboteuse comes in handy when I want to go to a next plan, so they can work in conjunction.)

Yeah, I'm blowing off exercise for today. But I just got my state taxes done! Woo hoo!

And Plan B is actually better - I like that professor better - she talks faster than I do and she's dorky funny and she's not so tight with the professor who's being passive aggressive with me right now. I couldn't decide between the two, and fate has decided for me.

Ah fate, how it loves me.

never leaving well enough alone

At the meeting after school today, all I could do was pester the principal. He asked the students why not everybody shows up to take the high school exit exam, and I was all over his ass about how confusing it was when to show up and how not impossible to make everybody show up (I even suggested forming a focus group to address it - am I insane?). Mark, the special ed teacher, could barely contain his laughter - he was loving it. (Before the meeting, Mark & I were talking about how the district needs a few good lawsuits to get them to stop violating civil rights.)

Nobody stands up to Mr. Principal Man, and I'm getting ready to take a shitload of heat. Bring it. But then I realized that Charlotte my work buddy was right - Mr. Principal Man is afraid of smart women. His reaction for the rest of the meeting was to make me the audience of all his information (he made only eye contact with me) - he sees me as a peer, and that threatens him. He knows I'm smarter than him and much better with kids than him and that kind of intimidates him and kind of makes him respect me simultaneously. He will breathe a major sigh of relief when he knows I'm not coming back - but, he still has 16 more weeks to deal with me. So, bring it.

Flanders, the Asst. Principal, tried to give me shit about parent phone calls today, saying they'll be putting "memos in files" of teachers not complying. I said, "Thanks for warning me. So now I know the consequences. I have 20,000 other things to do besides write names on a piece of paper to turn in." He didn't like that one bit, but screw him. He's trying to play like he's looking out for my interests, but he'd just trying to manipulate me, and I see through him and I ain't playin. Bring it.

Dayton is STILL PISSED OFF with me but he ends with "But I'm looking forward to seeing you." WTF? Make up your damn mind. I should probably stay with Morris, but that would definitely piss Dayton off even more. Morris adores me and caters to my every whim (he's a Cancer). Dayton and I are due for a huge blow-up when I get there, especially because I told him that my money and my life is none of his damn business and we will NOT be discussing it any more. Bring it.

I sent a snippety email to my prof, saying I will turn in my big paper and if it's not to his satisfaction that I'd modify it (which, I would, because I just wrote any old thing to get it done). He said, "I'm sure whatever you did is fine." Great, now he's gone to passive aggressive. That's ok, because I can fight that too. Bring it.

I called a parent whose son skips my class every single day because he goes to work. The father (only Spanish-speaking) was so happy to hear from me - nice guy, and patient with my hablar. So then I started calling parents of all the kids who bug me, which will make them all have tantrums tomorrow. Yeah, yeah, you know. Bring it.

On to class now. But I like everybody there (all women, BTW - why are women so superior to men about so not getting into fights with me??) so there will be no bringing, except of banana bread.

Even my students - I have only one girl who pushes it, and I get her totally. She bugs, but I understand her underlying need for approval. Where are the obnoxious teenage girls I hear so much about? It's those damn immature boys that need a good spanking. Including the 62-year-old Mr. Principal Man.

Why can't I just leave well enough alone? Why can't I shut the hell up around men in authority, or apologize to my boyfriend when he's upset, or let my students just be?

Because my superpower tool is the cattle prod. Electrified. It's exhausting to be me, but what's my other option?

impending bifocals

Trying to read an article now, I had to hold it at arm's length. Damn. Time for bifocals, I fear. That could explain the headache I've had for a couple months now almost without stop.

I've been thinking about my student Yomar. He came to us mid-term from the district's other continuation high school because he'd been jumped there. He had a nasty bloody eye until recently. When I stopped seeing him. He has missed class the past three days, and on Friday his dad came to school right when I was trying to call the house to ask WTF? Some kids miss regularly, but he never had, and I was concerned. Well, he hadn't gone home, and his father was concerned, too. All I can keep thinking is how I hope he's ok. He's a great kid, I really like him - very warm and friendly and capable.

I asked how he did on the high school exit exam last time he took it, and he had been arrested right as the tests were being passed out. The cops came to the school and took him away right then. "Why?" "Murder charge. I was falsely accused." A false accusation of MURDER?! Damn.

Or another kid, I asked why he didn't take the exam last time or the time before. "Oh, because I was locked up." I stopped asking why. Sometimes, I really don't want to know anymore.

Strangest thing that happened last week: Roberto started working. He had skipped class for like two weeks and then started showing up (it's his first class of the day, and he's always late). Well, I'm out of patience with the homeboy, and I was snippety plus with him. "Don't be late! Get out paper now! If you don't work RIGHT NOW I'll send you to the office." I figured - what do I have to lose? The kid doesn't do shit. We get along fine, but he's like a slug.

But Friday, when I looked over, he was catching up with the work. I was so disoriented I didn't know what to do. And Jose, his friend who's new to the school (and gives me the MAJOR creeps, and the more I'm chilly to him the more he pursues my attention, which he actually has figured out he gets when he does well, so he does) was like, "It's a MIRACLE! Roberto is working! I've never seen such a thing!" Which gave me the chance to say, "Yep, that's why I have no patience with him - because I know he can do it and I'm not letting him get away with less." Which is bullshit - I just have no patience with him because all my patience is already gone for the year. But, he liked it, and worked even harder.

When I was nice to him, he didn't do shit. When I'm mean to him, he works and learns?

Shit, I'm so confused.

I got so much done today, but now I feel like crashing and burning. Blah.

Have I mentioned that I hate my job?

here's how the world loves me right

So, I went to REI this morning and bought some essentials like a wide-brimmed hat and mosquito repellent. We all know that I love REI "like a fat boy loves cake" (that's a Gailism) and I'm an REI whore.

But today, blog fans, REI loved me right on back. I needed another cup of coffee I realized once I got in my truck. I only slept 5.5 hours last night, and I was hurting. But the cost of Starbucks rankled me so I thought I'd stick it out until I couldn't live any longer, thinking I'd try the Coffee Bean over there in Rancho. I pulled up to REI and there was Bob Marley playing on the speakers on a table up front where THEY HAD FRESH COFFEE AND HALF AND HALF. Just sitting there, in those fresh-brewed to-go cardboard boxes. Waiting for me, and free. ANd - this is the clincher - there was only half a doughnut left, and it was pink - highly unappetizing. Lots of doughnut boxes in the trash. I do love doughnuts, but they make me feel oh-so-icky. I wouldn't have had the strength to resist temptation this morning and that would have effed up my blood sugar and made me hurt worse, but REI loved me right back and removed temptation.

There was a sale and they were having a party of sorts. Something like "Welcome ME, we'll play your favorite songs and give you yummy coffee for free." Unrequited love is HIGHLY OVERRATED and I'm over it.

Only bummer, they didn't have a mosquito net like I needed. I'll have to order one, which is probably best because I can get one that's insecticide-treated. I was going to treat it myself, but no need now.

But otherwise, REI was there for me. Love ya back.

And now, I've finished all my reading, and I have a 3-page paper to whip out now, and get started on a 20+ page paper (on culture theory) which MUST BE COMPLETED THIS WEEKEND, and I need to start another 20+ page paper (on Liberian English for my Sociolinguistics class) that I can tinker with and finish up early next weekend. These next two weeks are crazy busy. Welcome to my world.

I just hope I can make it through the end of the school year. I think I might because of things happening along the way - after I get back, only two more weeks of class and final papers due. Then, a month later, my written exams (during spring break). Then, four weeks later, my oral exams. Then, four weeks later I'm done teaching. Hopefully I can go up to Oregon then. Then hopefully I'll have two jobs at the university (maybe I'll move back into town for the month of July) - I already have one which pays half-time almost what I make now, and I applied for another. And those jobs are cush compared to what I do now. Then, on to Africa.

The world loves me right aight - just not so much when I'm doing things I'm not supposed to do anymore - like teach delinquents. Been there, done that, and have a couple t-shirts.

the Tarot spoke

When asked how next year's opportunities will shape up, the Tarot was unequivocal. All wonderful, wonderful cards and then The World. Wow! I've got the whole world in my hands.

When asked how the rest of this year's job (you know, the one I hate) will turn out, EVERY SINGLE CARD was upside down - showing a fit mismatch. Every card symbolized discontent.

When asked about Dayton and my relationship, things were a little more confusing. Also, I think it's confusing because Sabine's interpretation is so different than mine - when she says the 4 of coins (his expectations) symbolizes Dayton being clingy, I can only laugh. He is the least clingy person I've ever been in a relationship with, and I see no evidence that would ever change. My book says it means solidity and sound foundation and good judgment and family prosperityand frugality - all of which makes much sense. And when Queen of Swords came up for my expectations, Sabine saw it as loneliness and all that, but my book says analytical thinker, leader, organizer, etc. I expect that Dayton knows and honors this in me, yes.

Is it fate?

Is it fate that I just got my bill for my classes for next term and they cost almost exactly the same as my trip to Africa? (Though, actually no classes. I have to pay fees to NOT have classes. Ah, PhD's are such a crock.)

Is it fate that we are in contract negotiations and if we accept the district's offer of 3% retroactive that will be almost the same as my trip to Africa? (And if we hold out for more, maybe it would be worth two trips to Africa!)

Is it fate that my tax refunds add up to about the same as my trip to Africa?

No, blog friends, not fate. Just signs from the heavens that going to Ghana is a damn good idea.

crazy things we do for love

So, I know it's pretty bad when the travel agent laughs and calls me crazy for going to Africa for two days. I told her that she needed to be supportive, because my friends already laughed and called me crazy.

Screw it, I'm going. Leaving on a jet plane. And then coming back to 14 1/2 more weeks of teaching, but I don't think ahead to that.

Now I gotta do shopping and planning and finish all my applications and papers before I go. Two weeks from today, I'll be on the road to LAX. Woo hoo.

So, goals for Ghana:
-meet Cecee! Dayton's 9-year-old daughter who is now with him
-not get malaria
-get site consent from the camp management for my dissertation research
-communicate with Senor Dayton (I'm back to using the really bad Spanish accent to make my kids behave - anything to make me stop talking - though Rene likes to dare me to say certain words he KNOWS I can't)
-see some friends there
-decide how long I'll stay there next year - it's easy to romanticize it while I'm here, but I have forgotten the evil humidity and latrines and all that

On that note, send me all positive vibes. I just got another international fellowship application for a couple grand, as well as an application to TA in DC - which would provide me with a place to live and a survival salary and would cover my fees for the term. And I've lived there before - it's way sweet. Very clean and quiet, with internet and cable and gym included. Subway stations near, all that. So, don't know my chances, but that would make things do-able next year even I don't get my big fellowship - because having 11 weeks to focus on my writing, with DC contacts to check in with and none of the distractions of here and minimal responsibilities - well, that would be just a little slice of heaven. So, if I went to Ghana in August for one school semester and then DC for winter term, I could finish writing my dissertation draft and go on filing fee status for spring term possibly - making me only pay one term's worth of fees - and during spring term in addition to defending, etc., I could start submitting my work as articles for publication and be looking for gainful employment. Woo hoo!!

Well, who knows how things will really shake out. But I'm a woman with a plan! Or multiple plans!

Have I mentioned that I hate my job?

But it's a definite "It's me, not you" situation. Today we had staff development, which does not suck to make $140 in three hours of sitting there eating pizza somebody else bought, and I do like the people I work with. Oh, I think there are too many white people and that's a big problem, but they do mean well. One guy, who I thought kind of avoided me, asked, "How are things going? It seems like you fit in really well right from the beginning."

Maybe I did. And I do appreciate all the complimentary and supportive comments I got from others today. They appreciate me, and that's always nice. One even insisted on hugging me.

But I hate showing up, I hate the shit I'm required to do, and I hate the time it takes away from me reading about Liberia - or being in West Africa.

Today they said a week-long training is required right after school is out. That's $1,000 which is way nice, but that would shorten my time in Africa by one full week if I were to go for just the summer. I would only have 8 weeks in the field.

I guess that makes up my mind and I can't return next year.

Walter, my Salvadorean vato, asked today, "Are you stressed?" Yeah, I am. "Please don't be stressed." He's a way-cool kid (in good and bad ways), and he's always concerned about how I'm doing. I am too stressed about my job because my district is FUCKING STUPID. And my administrators don't do their job, and so ALL this shit is falling on me, and I have fucking meetings every day after school AND I need about 100 more hours to catch up on things - but I'm taking a full courseload of classes and preparing for exams AND prospectus and I need to go to Africa for a few days within the month. I don't have those 100 hours to spare - and I'm not going to. Because it's stuff I don't care about - like WASC accreditation for the school and forms to fill out and shit to report in to them. Bullshit. I'm a teacher in my classroom, not a cog in the district machinery.

And I hate my job, despite the really valiant efforts of both my students and my co-workers to make that not the case. And there are 17 more Fridays. And I just ate a jumbo chocolate muffin (what is that, like 700 calories?) to numb the pain, because I don't even want to start drinking tonight. Too much to do.

putting the fun in dysfunctional

So, it was SST today - Student Study Team. My first one at this school. Led by one of my Panel Sisters.

The kid, Juan, had been referred to SST by the Asst. Principal (Flanders). Why? Usually SST is a precursor to special ed testing, but Juan doesn't need that. Juan just has authority issues and lies and doesn't do shit. But where he excels is in the bullshit, and he got Flanders to believe his bullshit.

Flanders had asked panel to not kick Juan out, and we obliged. And now Flanders looks like a total idiot because every teacher is pissed, and the meeting consisted of Panel Sister saying, "I have no idea why we allowed you a second chance. You did not deserve it. All your teachers say you lie and don't do work. I can't even lead this meeting."

So the other teachers and I stepped in and I just asked Flanders directly, "Why are you doing this for him?"

Now, I have SUCKER in huge letters across my forehead for the downtrodden student. But I hate liars, and I can usually see the bullshit a mile away. Not Flanders, because he is an idiot.

And he was humiliated in this meeting, and he slammed the door on the way out and did none of his textbook jocularity, and we snickered.

Why is that fun? Because yesterday when I sent a kid out of my class, Flanders sent him back. I sent him back, he got sent back. I said, Oh Hell No. (The kid was fine today - yesterday he was just a shit and needed to be removed. Actually, all the kids were fine today.)

Flanders wants to disempower us - I then got a phone call "reminding" me to report my 3 parent phone calls a week. That's all he does? Send kids back and harass teachers about that? Bullshit. Panel Sister said I'm free to give him the finger about it as everyone else does.

And no, we weren't trying to get back at him, but we stood firm and made Flanders realize that he was conned. And that, blog friends, was swEet.

This is, as Panel Sister and I discussed, THE most dysfunctional district I've ever worked in. And she said that all the teachers feel that way this year - that the atmosphere is really bad. That does make me feel better, that it's not just the new kid being left out of the good atmosphere. I mean, I'm not trying to feel better because things suck, but it's nice to know there's solidarity. I hate my job, and they hate theirs. Sucks to be us, but at least it doesn't suck alone.

The good news? The new kids I got seem cool. A couple of good kids in my ELD3 class, which really, really needed it. We're wresting control back from the ELD3 gangstas. None of the kids can get credit because they entered at this late date in the term, which is bullshit. But, they're all pretty active and on-task (so far). The comprehensive high school just dumped a ton of kids on us, who didn't even need continuation. Like this girl who only needs 30 more units to graduate, which she could easily finish with summer school. Why send her? Why not let her graduate with a real diploma with her friends, and where she can get the sheltered classes she needs? Oh well. Those are actually the really easy to teach kids, because they're focused on passing. The ones who only have 15 credits and are 17 years old (they need 210 to graduate from us), they're the tougher cases. Like Juan - he's 17 1/2 and has only 65 credits. The boy has got to kick into gear. But it's HIS responsibility, not ours.

My 5th period is an interesting combination of kids - it's loud and obnoxious and raucous, but the ones who really aren't there to learn weren't there today, and the ones left were just goofy while getting work done, and they were actively trying to redefine it as me as one of them. This is of course problematic on many levels, but on some levels it's helpful. They listen to their peers far more than authority. I just have to say, "That's a highly inappropriate question. Focus on your work." But that voicing, it's not working with them. They are insistent that I come to their level. It's like, I went from being the invisible not-real-teacher (because of starting late in the year after many substitutes) to suddenly being the topic of fascination and conversation. I don't like it. I like that they've finally learned my name, because it's easier to communicate, but I don't want them speculating about my life. Just let me be a one-dimensional character in the classroom, don't push me outside. My hearing is strange - sometimes I'm deaf and sometimes voices carry - but I was helping a kid across the room and I heard, "She's a good teacher." "Who?" "Ms. Bowman, she's a really good teacher. One of the best." "Yeah, I know. That's what I say."

But, no I'm not. I'm collecting a paycheck and I hate my job, and I'm bitchy more than is reasonable. So, what image are they projecting on me? Why do they think these things about me? I'm not hip, I'm not cool, I'm not friendly, I'm not a great teacher. I show up, and for me right now, that's a lot, and that's all they get.

conspiracy of lies

I went to the university health clinic for the final shot of my Hepatitis A/B series, and that's all I wanted. Just a needle in the arm.

But this nurse was not letting me off with that. She wanted details of everything to do with everything.

The cool part is that she offered to write me a note for me if/when I go to Africa and my school district requires it of me.

This is quite an integrity issue for me. I try hard not to ever lie - so what about calling in "sick" to travel to "The Dark Continent"? I'm sick unless I go? I'll be sick of flying? I'm sick of my job?

But after class tonight I presented my moral dilemma, and these teachers/former teachers made it really clear: these sick days are my days and nobody has the right to demand that I report or ask permission to take them. And I think that's a really good point.

On the other hand, I talked to my work buddy and she really encouraged me to talk to the principal about it, saying that he's much more likely to support teachers if he knows what's going on. That's a good point, and my conscience would be freer.

But I don't trust him.

And even more importantly, I resent the institutional constraints on my freedom. Because I'm healthy and don't have the flu, I'm punished and not allowed to take off the time my contract provides?

I just want to go get laid. Is that really so much to ask?

Happy Birthday, Abe

So, what does our blog heroine do on Lincoln's birthday, a school holiday? Does she:

A) do the four papers she needs done by this week (three of which are 20+ pages)
B) shop and prepare healthy food for the week
C) exercise - a healthy body is a healthy mind!
D) spend hours cruising the internet looking for a cheap flight to Ghana, in between packing the things she plans to take and leave at camp in anticipation of several months spent there? (By the way blog friends, who has a Costco card? I need to buy the big boxes of condoms.)

If you know me, of course it's D).

And by the way, Dayton's response to my question (see last blog entry) was of course "One. Just one." It was funny because we've joked about it before, and it's a cultural discontinuity within him - how he grew up as "normal" is in stark contrast to what he thinks is "right." For me, only because while I think polygyny works just fine for some people, I wouldn't be willing to participate in it myself - jealousy and possessiveness is deep culture for me.

getting to know you

I wish I knew how to do really cool things like hyperlink that title and hear Deborah Kerr's voice.

But I don't. Technoloser.

You know, there are times when I DON'T want cheerful, helpful, kind people - like when they take my blood. I went to have bloodwork done and the woman was so nice and pleasant and efficient - but I really didn't want to have a conversation with her - about the weather, the mountain view, breakfast, ANYTHING - when she was sticking a huge needle in my arm draining away my lifeforce (which, BTW, sure seemed to me like my blood was dark and thick - I wonder if I have my father's genetic condition of too many red blood cells produced - which most of the family takes care of by regularly donating blood - which Susan also does all the time just because she's a good person - but nobody wants my jungle-tainted blood for sure - nobody has taken it since 1986, before my first trip to Central America). (And BTW, I think I've decided NOT to take anti-malarial medication on future trips. If I don't get malaria at least once, I'm an imposter.)

And then I called Dayton. Because it's almost Valentine's Day and I don't have to work today (have I mentioned how much I hate my job?). Which they DO celebrate there, those "Little Americans" (hey, they call themselves that - I don't), and he WOULD be bringing home flowers and chocolates if he were here (he doesn't understand my love of chocolate and coffee at all, but he just accepts it). It was the best conversation we've had since November (when the phones started going haywire). And I got the laugh. I love his laugh.

Me: How many wives did your father have?
Him: Oh, too many! [in Liberian English, like most pidgins and creoles, "too" often denotes "a lot" or "very" without the negative evaluative connotation of "too" - so I usually ask further]
Me: How many? Like, six, didn't you say?
Him: Yeah, I didn't even know them all. Probably about six. Too many.
Me: And how many do you want?

The laugh. It's only very slightly nuanced depending on provocation. Sometimes it's a nervous laugh (like "Oh shit, what should I be saying? Is there any way out of this trap?" like when a man is asked "Do I look fat in these pants?") Sometimes it's an almost dismissive laugh (not to be confused with his scornful laugh, which I have heard though never at me) which is used to descalate or segue, to signal a refusal to engage in combat (which I'm often gunning for because my superpower is, after all, sabotage).
This one though, there was that little pause, and hearty laugh. He likes it when I'm funny, and the more we're together the more we get each others' humor. He pauses before the laugh though, because I do deliver in deadpan style, which confuses most, and gives me a chance to follow-up if I'm serious about it.

Which I'm not really. Past boyfriends have told me I leave no energy for them to cheat on me even if they wanted to. I'm kind of all-consuming and demanding.

But our relationship, it doesn't play by my rules - or western rules at all really. It's this constant negotiation and renegotation - too often implicit by my standards - that often disorients me. I have no idea what a "good girlfriend" is in his eyes, and he doesn't understand when I'm dissatisfied when he's doing everything a "good boyfriend" in his mind does. And adultery would be something completely different within the context of our relationship.

So there are all these opportunities for misunderstandings and conflict. On the other hand, when I try to sabotage and bail, he'll have none of that. He's nice stability for me.

What the future holds, I have no idea. But I do love his laugh.

I have a clean truck

Thanks to The Good Leo!

racquetball as performance art

It's a damn good thing that I can pose in strange positions while avoiding being hit by the ball - because I sure can't hit it that well.

Racquetball with Michele, while always fun, takes on comic levels when I find myself ducking and protecting myself instead of hitting the ball back. Or waiting with my shoulders raised to my ears and my teeth clenched to see if the ball hit the front wall. Or fumbling with the ball when it hits my body proper rather than my racquet.

Why this picture, you ask? The Scream by Edvard Munch (Norwegian, not Dutch, sorry). Because this is an awful lot like what I look like while playing racquetball. Just picture a wall there to my left in which I'm trying to blend and there you have me.

All I can hope is that Lindy doesn't have videocameras set up in the racquetball courts - because he could so blackmail me.

Saturday morning cultural discontinuity

I don't know exactly what I had planned for this morning. Probably rereading and finishing Fred Erickson's Talk and Social Theory. It's a good book about sociolinguistics, especially how he takes the specific to the general level, understanding that talk is both local and global. Very good examples.

But instead, I'm calling West Africa. Over and over and over again. Why? Because THE TELEPHONE SYSTEM EFFING SUCKS! I don't know if it's my calling cards or the infrastructure there, or both, but if I hear one more error message or dead line I will hurt somebody.

I'm Western Unioning money to Dayton's brother in Liberia (to repay him for money he borrowed to get Dayton back to Ghana). I'm not entirely happy about it, but I said I would, and I worked extra hours for it, so I am. I keep my word.

It's a little endearing that when I asked Dayton's brother what to make be the security question he said Who, with the answer being sister-in-law. Endearing or trapping, I'm not sure. Whether it will come to be, I don't know. In this moment I say "Hell no" with quite some certainty. But who knows? I clearly don't.

As I blogged before, the thing about West Africa is that you're never really alone - there was always this security net for me, people looking out usually without me knowing. Which was great when I was lost or upset or anything else like that. Here, people are SO ISOLATED - sitting like little pod people in their A/C vehicles. There, it's noisy and people are jostling together all the time.

It's not just Dayton I love - I like the sense of belonging, of being integrated in the web. So while I may kind of freak at the idea of his family meetings and all that, there are benefits to belonging, too. And I am strong enough to say "Hell, no" when I need to. People looking out for me. THAT nepotism reigns supreme in West Africa - and while it causes lots and lots of problems at the national level, at the small-scale level it's an effective way of getting things done. It's the social capital. What's cool is I already have some of that built up in Liberia through different friends and now potential family. If/when I do go to Liberia for the first time, it will be like going home - or at least into "Cheers." I'm not a big fan of biological family, clearly (since I don't speak to mine), but I fiercely believe in chosen family.

ARGH!! I finally reached him and halfway through the control number we got cut off. THIS IS SO FRUSTRATING.

Maybe that's a good reality check. Everything in West Africa is frustrating. When I try to do it with my western-style efficiency, there is stark mismatch.

Well, that is not entirely true. One significant reason I made good friends there and people respected me is that I can cut through the crap. I don't try to work against the West African ways, but work with them and my own style to make things happen. I don't get quagmired. I use both honey and vinegar. I treat people respectfully, though am not afraid to get in a yelling match when necessary, and I'm very clear and explicit and honest. While those styles are not familiar ones to most West Africans, they seem to like it.

ARGH!! This is fucking unbelievable. The card cut me off without warning because it says my balance is too low. They lied about how much they charge per minute. Now I have to buy a whole new calling card before I can call him again?

These little frustrations add up. I just need to not direct them at the person whose fault they are not.

OK, reached him, got it done. Mission accomplished. Which is oh-so-fitting with my phone, whose ring is Mission Impossible.

don't read

OK, just finished The Darling by Russell Banks. It's about an American woman who flees her revolutionary past (think 60's Weather Underground) and ends up in Liberia, married to a Liberian man.

Doesn't it seem to have all the elements of a book that I would love?

Instead, not a single character was in the least bit sympathetic. They were all despicable. And Banks got everything wrong about Liberians - from the concept of being isolated and alone there to bad sex with Liberian men (I've never heard of such a thing!) to racial issues. Sure, the racial issues exist - but one of the reasons I love West Africa is that they aren't so codified like they are here. Sure, people see I'm white when they meet me, but then it's a non-issue.

Banks never even went to Liberia - which is really obvious. And he clearly can't count any Liberians among his friends, because he knows nothing about them.

Blah. Waste of my time. And some really brutal passages I didn't need put in my head.

need to squelch

Today in class, for some reason it became "Ask Ms. B all sorts of personal details." They always throw me off-balance with that.

I think it started with asking what my first name is. "Ms." I said. They're relentless little buggers, and one had seen it somewhere and remembered it. They told me about a former teacher who told his first name, and Jennifer said, "You should get with him! He's cute!"

And it was all just downhill from there. Somehow they got their work done, but there was far too much speculating on my partying and fucking habits. It was mostly in good fun, and many kids were not in class so they felt more buddy-like, and I didn't have the stamina to squelch it. It just can't happen again.

Matchmaker delinquents? I think I'll pass. Though I might cruise to that school and check out the hot teacher they want me to hook up with.

Speaking of that ... so, I called Dayton again just now and DIDN'T hang up this time. We had a long talk. I'm far more baffled now than before. He is SUCH A STUBBORN COOT. And so am I, but he can actually make me look semi-reasonable in comparison. And I don't mind being the reasonable one, but I'm not going to be the acquiescing one. Anyway, he recognized cultural differences at work here. I wonder, why is it that cultural differences are playing SUCH a role? We just keep butting up against these things that cause such problems. Why are things so hard?

Cutest thing a kid said today? When I said, "Hey, you're gonna clean that up, right?" [chocolate on desk] "Yeah," he said. "I brought it for you, but it was in my pocket and got all melted and gross." Ah, that's sweet. Like a little 4-year-old bringing a baby bumblebee. What made me think of that? Because this kid insists that cultural differences are impossible to overcome. Oh, he loves me, but I'm the exception to how he interacts with white people, he says. He likes to tease me for being Alaskan, and I do hope I can get him to push past his rigid notions of cultural differences.

But why? Maybe he's right. Maybe I never can be happy with somebody from a different culture. Then again, I KNOW I can't be happy with somebody from the same culture, so acknowledging his correctness would be a vow of lifelong celibacy, and I'm not quite ready for that.

Second cutest thing a kid said today? I was yelling at Gera for being Senor Hablador, leaning over the desk to do it quietly (which is far scarier), and the kid beside him said to me, "You have beautiful eyes." Of course my immediate reaction is to tell him to be quiet and stop trying to divert my attention. "No! I mean it!" "Yeah," said Gera, "But don't try to say nice things to her like that because she hates it." Why? Because it's usually BS. Like Eddie Haskell. But I'll just acknowledge Yomar's compliment and move on. (Both the chocolate and the eyes kids aren't creepy or inappropriate at all about it - don't worry, I'm not going to get fired or anything.)

So, my little delinquents bring me chocolate, tell me I'm beautiful, and try to hook me up with hot guys? Hm. Maybe my job doesn't suck as much as I think.

No, it does. I hate it in many, many ways. And the shit's going to hit the fan soon with my evaluation, so stay tuned blog fans.

old habits die hard

I've been trying relentlessly to get a hold of Dayton, and I have heard such a variety of error-type messages such as "You cannot call the country you are dialing at this time" to strange beeps.

It really has become a game, to guess the error message.

So, what do you think I did when it actually went through this morning and he answered?

I hung up. I wasn't oriented to actually TALK TO HIM - I just wanted to see if I could get through.

Hours of dialing for that? Well, I just hope he knew it was me.

teaching

This was going to be a post about some of the things I love about teaching. Kids bonding with me and wanting my help, thriving in my classroom and doing things they never thought themselves capable of, creating an environment where they take chances and find their own rewards.

But instead, I'm going to rail against all the places where that ISN'T the case. Why do kids turn to me for help so often? I'm new to the school, know so little still, and don't consider myself particularly nice or accessible. I try to treat the kids with respect, but I'm not warm and fuzzy. So why aren't they finding what they need from the 20 other teachers at our school, or the other 100 or so they've had in their lives?

Why have my kids been kicked around so much by so many? Why am I not hearing the kids talk about other teachers really helping them out, holding them accountable, expecting success? (Though we do have an awesome campus supervisor. Yesterday when a girl didn't come back for the 2nd part of the math test [because she was braindead and thought she was finished], he and I together found her and brought her back.)

Don't get me wrong - I'm not that for all kids. Hell, there are kids that make my skin crawl and I stay as far away from as possible. Just two now, but they are Creepy and they'll need to find bonding with somebody else. But Alex, the first referral I had to write at this school after storming out shouting at me to fuck off (last month) - today when he had a B- on his grade report he worked to get work in and said he's "fighting for an A" and rewrote something after I edited it and he never once threw a tantrum or slammed anything - his usual m.o. He has grown as a writer and thinker, and he's actually the strongest student in the class now (which is a problem because he has to always be entertained, but he finishes everything before everybody else). I could have given up on him and called him a p.o.s. but I didn't. Instead, I expect him to toe the line and every day is a negotiation, but now there's more successes than failures. Tomorrow he may backslide again, but I'll just kick his ass out and he'll come back begging for forgiveness. I can't take the shit of his life personally, even when he tries to take it out on me.

I got five classes full of Alexes. The kids who dig their heels in to resist the scholastic hegemony - but really want what Pancho thinks he's found in me - "You won't let me fuck up. I'll be doing all my work and graduating soon because you won't let me do anything less."

But why does he - why do they - need me to do this? Where are the other adults in their lives?

Why did it take me to dig out the real critical thinking genius in Michael? (I realize I talk a lot more about boys here - because 80% of my students are boys.) He wrote a really fantastic little piece about Lincoln for the test. In November, he was a slug with no motivation or anything interesting about him. Then this magic happened that I still don't really get - even though I felt no particular bond to the kid, he thought I did. I guess that's what Doug calls charisma authority. And the illusion of a non-existent relationship fueled him to trying harder - making me take notice and us to develop an actual relationship because it wasn't as much fun anymore for him to act like an idiot. His tablemate Rene doesn't have a 3rd period class, when we do "advisory," because he works then. So what did his former 3rd period teacher do? Give him his transcript and wash her hands of responsibility to him. Nobody now is set up to put in schedule changes for him, keep him on graduation track, all that. So, he asked me what to do. What the hell am I supposed to do? Of course I'll take responsibility for him (and not just because he likes to give me chocolate and other little treats) - but why isn't anybody else?

There are less than 400 students at my school, but it's always run in emergency mode. There's no planning or organization, and procedures are completely implicit because to utter them would be to expose their inanity. I'm responsible for all sorts of things that nobody tells me how to do, but I'm still supposed to - like school reporting folders and weekly lessons and test data and all sorts of shit that I don't have any clue about. What happens when I get evaluated and I'm not doing any of these things that are MANDATORY?

Like this MANDATORY meeting I'm supposed to attend next week - when I have class. So I called when I got the notice on Tuesday and said I couldn't go and they told me I have to. "I'm not sure you're hearing me. I have another obligation at that time and you'll need to make other arrangements." I was uber-bitch, and when she told me to talk to her supervisor I had to go to another meeting. Um, I've been an employee for three months and haven't died YET from bloodborne pathogens - I think I can go another few - or show up at another time for the 5-minute spiel they need to give me. Or send me a binder to read and report on. I don't care - but don't tell me I have to be somewhere at 3:30 pm when my workday ends at 1:15. And don't ignore me when I say I have another life.

This is such a dysfunctional district and school, and while it's frustrating as a teacher, the worst part is that the kids get fucked over so badly.

What would make it better?
Teachers trained better. My trainings, while sometimes really stupid, sometimes really made fundamental impact in my thinking and relating to kids. My current district provides NOTHING.
Better communication with homes. We have one teacher (besides me) who speaks any Spanish, and NO support staff. 85% of our kids are Latino, with over half speaking English as a second language.
Administrators who have positive relations with ALL kids (our current principal is a little too happy to help out white girls and nobody else) and who were good teachers and are role models and support to their staff.
Smaller class sizes in all high schools. Our district has some of the largest high schools in the country, and class sizes are usually around 40. When kids aren't hiding from or instigating ethnic conflict, they are LOST.
Strict consequences for misbehavior (including removal from setting) at both the classroom and school level. This provides a safe environment for the 99% of the kids who do want to learn.
Clear expectations honestly expressed to students - both at classroom level (what they need to do to be successful) and higher (such as passing high school exit exam).
Help with sorting out what to do with their future - more help with examining different career and educational possibilities to help them see a better future.
Teachers and administrators who really care about kids being successful - including the kids who don't look much like them. Who aren't looking to find somebody to blame, but want to take responsibility as a team to support kids.
A district office that is staffed by competent people who clearly communicate with teachers.
Enough textbooks for all kids - and good textbooks, with engaging format and information to spark critical thinking and creative expression.

Oh, the list could go on and on. Enough said.

after class

I ran out of the classroom because I was very hungry. I was going to post about how chocolate - though it wasn't that much - I can now see the negative effects - how my energy lags and then I feel oh-so-hungry.

But that's not the point. I went to Trader Joe's because I wanted a salad with chicken and "oriental noodles" and some whole wheat naan with spicy hummus. (My cravings, they're specific when I have three hours to think of them.) I ran into Tanya, whom I used to work with, and chatted it up with her and her man while they waited in line. I mentioned Africa and how I want to do research there next year. We said goodbye and I walked away when the young woman at the next line stopped me and asked, "Where were you?" And we chatted a little and she asked for my email and wants to know all about it.

Random stranger? I think not. The universe speaks.

That specific craving I had, it wasn't because of the chocolate. It was because I was an instrument of the universe. That young woman may very well end up doing something very important in West Africa because of our random encounter. Tanya, Mark, Trader Joe's - all instruments of the universe. Keeyana has something important to do, I think, and she doesn't know it yet.

I may never hear from her, and I will probably never have any idea what will happen.

But it's like when I went to Sacramento last year for lobbying and got drunk and met Mahmoud and got his email. Without that non-random interaction and our resulting communications that led me to Jordan, I would probably never have met Dayton or found this field of study that so compels me - because I went there for a month before going to Jordan. Mahmoud was an instrument of the universe - or following Allah's will, he would say.

Or like the time that I got this letter from a girl because she found my address under her boyfriend's couch. We worked together, he asked for my phone number, I gave him my address because I knew he was in the neighborhood sometimes - didn't know about the girlfriend. Anyway, we met and I told her he was a lying philanderer, and she said she thought she was pregnant, and I got her a pregnancy test - and when it showed pregnant she got prenatal care. I saw her two years later when I worked at WIC - with an incredibly adorable little boy and a husband (different man) who treated them both so well. I got to be a reality check for her. This instrument of the universe business, well, it doesn't pay well, but it has its own rewards.

And the salad? Very good.

Tomorrow, I buy doughnuts for my students. I think they did a damn fine job on the CAHSEE and I'm proud of them and I'll buy their loyalty with deep-fried sugar. (Just hope I don't forget.)

mail rocks!

1. ARABIC COFFEE AND MAKER!! WOO HOO!! Thanks so much, Tami!! It smells SOOOOO good. Can't wait until this weekend when I have a chance to try to make some. Yum!

2. The Darling by Russell Banks - about an American woman who marries a Liberian and lives there and raises children there and then leaves during war.

Um, I just found out that my slightly crazy roommate HAS THE SAME BIRTHDAY as Dayton. Kerist. She's right now shouting instructions to me - to apologize first, stroke his pride, all that. I know she's right, but I'm pissed off at him. He apologized to me two weeks ago, and then he's still mad at me? That's bait and switch and THAT'S NOT FAIR! And I'm having such K2 flashbacks now that I feel woozy. FUCKING LEOS. Well, more like damn Leos. (No offense, Michele, but your people are a little crazy. You are the only good one I know right now.)

So, I'm going to bed with my fictional Liberian-loving American woman and read a good story instead of all the boring shit I have to read. And hope that Dayton stews for many more days and doesn't call me in the middle of the night to yell some more. He's a slow processor (who isn't, compared to me, the woman with a million plans?). Maybe we'll continue our argument in April.

Areeba connection

Good news: Dayton's phone works now.
Bad news: All we got was a nasty yelling argument and him basically hanging up on me.

Bad news: Giving the high school exit exam today was a study in futility - it was SO effed up and disorganized FOR NO GOOD REASON. One of my kids from another period didn't get tested even though he was on the list because the teacher didn't want to give it to him, apparently. And I was told I can't give it to him tomorrow during math testing because they only get one day to take it and that was his chance - BUT HE SHOWED UP AND TRIED TO TAKE IT AND HE WAS EVEN ON TIME. This will possibly interfere with his graduation? ARGH!!
Good news: I looked over one kid's test, my student with the lowest English proficiency, and from the little I saw, he did damn well. At the break he had said to me, "This essay is really hard [it really was] - but all you taught me about context clues and reading all the answer choices and crossing out wrong ones - that makes that part easy." When I looked at his test, I saw he had done what I'd taught. Ah, sniff sniff. And this is the kid I had to call yesterday who wasn't coming to school after our big blow-up last week. I had another bad blow-up with a kid today. It's the same few kids who are just being jerks and when I call 'em on it they escalate, which usually turns to profanity and doors slammed and all that [them, not me]. But, the principals gave him a sound browbeating and forced him to come back, and I got not a peep from him. After testing, I'll extract a meaningful apology from him. He needs to own his behavior.

Bad news: It's only Tuesday.
Good news: My university classes are half over. Only five more weeks.

I told my work buddy (they're all nice to me there but I haven't really bonded, but kinda with her) that I'm bailing in a few weeks to go to Ghana for a weekend and would she cover my 6th period class? I asked her to keep it on the DL, but that was a bad decision, to tell. I just had to talk about it to somebody, and she offered to illustrate the book she told me I have to write.

I dunno about going to Ghana. I want to, I need to, but it's a shitload of money and I'll be spending months there later. I have so much effing work to do here that bailing for five days sounds excessive - and with work, there's SO MUCH SHIT happening now. I've been in meetings today and yesterday and it's just more and more coming. I hate to miss 'em because I'm responsible for knowing what's been said. Will my prospectus be done then, with my study plan, so my consent forms will be meaningful? Will Dayton and I be speaking? Will I get busted for skipping work? Ah, the dramatic tension rises.

Told other co-workers I probably won't come back next year, and the counselor interjected to couch that in PC terms with "She needs to go finish her PhD" - making it seem that I wasn't rejecting the school (which I am) so co-workers didn't feel insulted, which is good. If I liked it there, I would stay, and work my PhD around it. Instead, it's an exercise in insanity and futility and while I'm pleased as punch that EVERY SINGLE ONE of my kids showed up today for testing (the principal says only 50% of the kids did overall - and I HOLD HIM CULPABLE) and it looks like they did pretty well - this is not my beautiful life. My god, what have I done?

One kid, I called his house and he answered at 8:10 with "I'm eating breakfast, like you told me to." "Walter! I told you to eat breakfast BEFORE GETTING YOUR BUTT HERE AT 7:45!" He sauntered in at 8:35 - which was fine because my class voted to wait for him and the other late kid. Come on people, how hard is it to make all your kids show up for testing? IT IS NOT HARD! My workmate-biggest-fan, Lionel, was sitting next to the principal when he kept saying, "We need to learn your secrets!" Um, tell them when to show up and then remind them? NOT DIFFICULT!

I'm not really all that angry at Dayton but he's so angry at me he can hardly speak to me (and yes, I understand what he's saying, but I think he's unreasonable, and I'm not backing down because he's being a jerk and NO BOY is a jerk to me - I don't care if they're 15 or 35). Things don't look so peachy. But that doesn't really affect my Ghana research - I mean, sure, it's wonderful to be with him and that's what I'm hoping for, but if things don't work out I always have a Plan B. I'm just, I'm so tired of things being so hard with us.

Today I proctored other teachers' kids, and one of them is the great, great-grandson of a former president of Liberia. Small world.

full-scale panic averted

The good news: Dayton just got back to Ghana. (News from Big Pimp Momma)

The bad news: His phone (still) doesn't work.

in all its wisdom

My school district, in all its wisdom, is now placing students who are NOT English Learners (that is, they ONLY speak English and have NEVER known any other language at all) in my English Learner class.

OK, that's not the policy, but I have two kids in that situation, the second I just learned about today.

OK, she is a good student, gets mostly A's and B's (is at our school because of having a baby and missing lots of school for that), and tests as only an intermediate English learner - not even advanced or beginning advanced.

AM I THE ONLY ONE NOTICING THAT THIS SYSTEM AND ITS STUPID TESTS ARE EFFED UP??

And in the infinite wisdom of my site administrators, students have NO IDEA when and where to show up tomorrow for the high school exit exam. The very limited information given was so confusing that nobody understood. I told them all to just come to me and we'd figure things out, but I was given all wrong info. Students cannot get a high school diploma if they do not pass this test. And now they're screwed again because my school can't pull its head out of its ass. By 5th period, I was so pissed off that I started saying it aloud.

And today at the staff meeting I learned that I will be proctoring the students from three classes. Um, I have 24 students in that class and a max of 29 seats. WTF? All my students are showing up tomorrow because if they don't I'll be calling their houses - which I did today and set the fear of god in all of them - but what do you know, those three truants all got their butts to school when I called.

They are not missing this test dammit. And they are not going to get screwed over dammit. Yup, this is me on the warpath. One of the other teachers dared me to confront the principal about it. He's such an effing bully that nobody will stand up to him. Yeah, push some more Mr. Mister, just fuck my kids over again, I dare you.

Anyway, in good news, despite rushing to the doctor's office before the staff meeting was over (because they kept changing when the meeting was - but fortunately the principal didn't give me any grief, because I was about to deck him), my blood pressure is still in healthy range. And my weight at the doctor's office, the same as at my bathroom scale (there with heavy clothes & belt - so I'm actually lower than I thought). Apparently we're a weight-loss household - the roommate's boyfriend told her she has to lose 20 pounds before their wedding in April. I think there won't be much left of her if she loses 20 pounds, even if all Chinese people call her fat now. I dunno. I'm looking to lose more than 20 pounds, and I won't disappear.

The doctor said I should eat no fewer than 1600 calories per day (which is what my last doctor told me, too), but I think I'm going to ignore her and stay with my no fewer than 1200 per day with some days being more if I'm hungrier. The thing is that I'm not usually hungry on 1200, and my brain actually seems to function better - fewer insulin spikes, I guess. I may be slowing my metabolism a bit - but eating more never increased my metabolism, so I'm not worried about it too much. She said below 1600 can mess with kidney function, but I feel fine - and just in case, we're running a complete metabolic panel when I can find time to go to the lab. Of course I'll listen to that ... but with calories and all that, individuals vary so greatly that I just have to find what's right for me. It just doesn't seem that I'm saving any money on groceries, which bums me out.

And she didn't have any good news about anti-malarial medication. I'm in quite a quandary.

No, still no word from Dayton. Another day closer to full-scale panic. I keep trying to call. Why does "Areeba" (the phone company there) have an American operator telling me it's not possible to reach that number at this time? Why not African? Crazy. I can't decide if I should just go ahead with plane ticket for March 8th. I'd really rather talk to him first - see if he's there, etc. And talk to Morris, to see if the new camp manager will be there.

Ugh, so much to do. Back to reading, I guess.

Oh, of the three truants - one stormed in partway through class and was clearly fuming at me. His mother had called his cell phone and shouted what a liar he was for ditching class - when he was on the side of the road because of a nail in his tire. "Don't get angry at me because you were late," I said, and he got back on track. After class he called his mom and I talked to her, and I heard him say in Spanish, "You know, this is the teacher I tell you about, the one who helps me so much," and that was kinda sweet. I don't like it when they say that crap to me directly, but behind my back it's ok.

The second showed up at the end of class - apparently he was still sleeping when I called and his mother hadn't thought to tell him to get his lazy ass to school until I called. WTF?!

The third came at the beginning of the next class period (yeah, I have him twice in a row). I hadn't seen him for a few days - last week he pushed me to the brink of rage and I scared him. He likes to lie and he's manipulative and he ignores me when it doesn't fit into his plans. So, I sent him to the office last week, and he didn't do his punishment there. Anyway, he was so great today, and it was like we made up, which is really good because he HAS to pass the tests tomorrow or he won't graduate this year, and I was a little worried about being a negative environment for him but we're all good now. In fact, he was at home when I called, he said, and that's what got him to school. Crazy.

The rest of the class was totally overreacting to me, saying I crossed the line and all that by calling houses, but screw that. They think they're such adults but they have all failed out for years - that's why they're there. Like I said, if they don't want me calling, they need to show up on time. Otherwise, their parents and I will become quite close. THAT put a damper on happy times in Ms. B's class, but that's fine with me. I'd rather they learn and be pissed off at me than like me and goof off.

New Words for 2006

NEW WORDS FOR 2006: Essential vocabulary additions for the workplace (and elsewhere)

1. BLAMESTORMING : Sitting around in a group, discussing why a deadline was missed or a project failed, and who was responsible.
2. SEAGULL MANAGER: A manager, who flies in, makes a lot of noise, craps on everything, and then leaves.
3. ASSMOSIS : The process by which some people seem to absorb success and advancement by kissing up to the boss rather than working hard.
4. SALMON DAY: The experience of spending an entire day swimming upstream only to get screwed and die in the end.
5. CUBE FARM: An office filled with cubicles
6. PRAIRIE DOGGING: When someone yells or drops something loudly in a cube farm, and people's heads pop up over the walls to see what's going on.
7. MOUSE POTATO: The on-line, wired generation's answer to the couch potato.
8. SITCOMs : Single Income, Two Children, Oppressive Mortgage. What Yuppies turn into when they have children and one of them stops working to stay home with the kids.
9. STRESS PUPPY: A person who seems to thrive on being stressed out and whiny.
10. SWIPEOUT: An ATM or credit card that has been rendered useless because the magnetic strip is worn away from extensive use.
11. XEROX SUBSIDY: Euphemism for swiping free photocopies from one's workplace.
12. IRRITAINMENT : Entertainment and media spectacles that are Annoying but you find yourself unable to stop watching them. The J-Lo and Ben wedding (or not) was a prime example - Michael Jackson, another...
13. PERCUSSIVE MAINTENANCE: The fine art of whacking the crap! out of an electronic device to get it to work again.
14. ADMINISPHERE : The rarefied organizational layers beginning just above the rank and file. Decisions that fall from the adminisphere are often profoundly inappropriate or irrelevant to the problems they were designed to solve.
15. 404 : Someone who's clueless. From the World Wide Web error Message "404 Not Found," meaning that the requested site could not be located.
16. GENERICA : Features of the American landscape that are exactly the same no matter where one is, such as fast food joints, strip malls, and subdivisions.
17. OHNOSECOND : That minuscule fraction of time in which you realize that you've just made a BIG mistake. (Like after hitting send on an email by mistake)
18. WOOFS : Well-Off Older Folks.
19. CROP DUSTING: Surreptitiously passing gas while passing through a Cube Farm.

not to buy list

So I'm making a list of things I'll take to Liberia on my next trip, things to leave there. Books I'll need, sheets (nobody uses a top sheet there), conditioner, that sort of thing.

This is something I am not putting on my list of things to buy.

Nor this.

D-update

Dayton's still not in Ghana. And it's 4:20 pm on Sunday. He left last Saturday, according to Fred.

I will not full-scale panic until next Saturday.

suffer for knowledge

My roommate's boyfriend just asked me, "Why, if things are so bad there in the refugee camp, do you want to study there?" [Every time he's here, he asks me about Dayton, the camp, all that - he's fascinated, or very polite.]

"Because somebody needs to. And it may as well be me. You have to suffer a little for knowledge."

He's also a newly-minted PhD, and asked some good questions about research design and the like. The more I have to talk things through, the better - it's good for me. The way I just explained it to him, it was too big, too much - but it's not really, so I just have to figure out how to word it right.

The roommate just wants to know if I'm still marrying Dayton - since she's planning her wedding for April, she's a little consumed by thoughts of marriages.

Marriages and PhDs and moving to the other side of the world - yup, I've got a full plate for 2006. Speaking of full plates - I just found a conference in La Jolla and it looks like they'll pay for participants' accommodations and meals and I just have to show up! I like! My "sick" days are starting to add up ...

trial by sassywood ordeal

This was made illegal in the mid-1800's as Liberia was becoming officially a country. And yet, it's still practiced.

Hm ... maybe I'll encourage its use at my school. Are you lying? Only the boiling oil will tell!

job burnout

I have every one of the five symptoms of job burnout, according to this article.

Oh yeah, time to move on.

in a bus in Cote d'Ivoire

I just called Fred and we talked pretty long (he has the cutest accent which isn't really Liberian). As he said at the end, when I thanked him for being such good friends to both Dayton and me, "Dayton is my friend, and you are my sister." It sounds cliche here, but I miss these deep relationships. I remember before I left, Emmanuel was making a big deal about how "Sometimes volunteers become much more than that - they [me] become family." Sometimes people go to the refugee camp and they get involved and have a good time, but then they leave and it becomes a memory. For me, it is a constant reality - and not just because of Dayton - I am enmeshed with the refugee settlement and Liberians in numerous ways.

I sometimes wish Fred and I could be in love instead - we would have so far fewer problems because of our communication and touch similarities. No, that's not true - Fred is an incorrigible flirt, and I would be jealous. Dayton doesn't even look at other women, and I appreciate that. (We still need to work out his jealousy issues - he has never said a thing about it, and he has never interfered with any friendship I have with men, but I have caught a couple clues and I don't want it to become an ugly green monster in him that explodes someday.)

Anyway, Fred told me that Dayton left a week ago for Ghana. At first I was upset that Dayton didn't call to tell me, but it fits in with his personality - he would know that I would worry so much about him traveling by bus through Cote d'Ivoire because of the violence there now. Heck, the UN Peacekeeping Forces are scared in Cote d'Ivoire and have no real authority. And, as Dayton would say, he is a man of action, not words, which is of course one reason I do love him - so many people there at camp (and everywhere) were talk, talk, talk and not do anything. So, in that framework, Dayton would want to contact me once he got to Ghana - not leaving me to perseverate on danger. And he did tell me that he wouldn't call again until he got to Ghana - but I didn't believe him I guess.

But now I'm perseverating. It's been a week and he's not back in Ghana. It's not that far. I don't think it can be much further than 1000 km (600 miles). Fred says it can easily take up to a week, but I thought when I talked to other people about it, usually it was more like 4 days.

Anyway, Fred told me what I knew - that Dayton was upset with me (and I with him), and that Dayton loves me very much. What I didn't know was how much they talk about me and our future (Dayton and mine - I don't plan to have deputy husbands). Dayton takes things for granted - assumes that telling me something once is enough.

Who knows what the future holds. I just hope Dayton makes it safely back to Ghana and things work out for him.

Unfortunately, plane ticket prices to Accra from LAX jacked up about $500 since the last time I checked. I'll keep scrounging around, but I may have to implement new austerity measures (reusing coffee filters, siphoning neighbors' gas, making my own soap) to afford that. Well, that's only 16 or so hours of "substituting" - I could maybe do that. And maybe I won't even kill any kids. "Listen up, you little delinquents - you're only here because I have a long-distance malaria-inducing booty call. Don't make me get hostile here."

Actually that, they would understand and appreciate. Their existences are all about sex. And of course I don't call them delinquents and don't think of them that way - that's for comic blog effect.

Two kids yesterday impressed me with their astuteness.

Before school, I was talking to campus security and they mentioned that my boy Ismael (the kid who was never in high school because he was locked up) skips class. Well, never my class of course - they like to torture me so they show up. In fact, yesterday, he showed up to to earlier classes, trying to skip his actual class to be in my classroom (trust me, my class is NOT that much fun that anybody would want to to do it twice a day - I was probably just the lesser of the evils, or he thought there was a sub again - but mostly, he wanted to check in with me because I had been gone). Which was the perfect opportunity to let him know that I'll be speaking to his PO (parole officer) about my concerns regarding his behavior. Boy, that stopped him cold and wiped the smug smirk off his face.

The astute part? When he came to class, he said that another teacher had told his PO that he was ditching class, and the PO said if anybody else said anything to her that he would be sent back to jail. So please, I shouldn't say anything or he would be locked up again.

"Well, Ismael, I hear what you're saying, but I'm not going to let you emotionally blackmail me here. I will tell your PO what I consider the truth, and I will hold you accountable for your actions, and we will have this conversation with all three of us present."

When it was clear I wasn't buying it, he changed tactics - and quietly and diligently did ALL work - then make-up work that he screwed around with before. I like those tactics.

Another girl, one of the substituted-for crowd, was putting on make-up when they were supposed to be doing homework for other classes. "Andi, could you make it look like you're doing work, please?" [I knew her because we had just given her a second chance based on her hopeful success in rehab.] "How much do I have to make it look like it?" [This girl is sharp!] "Um, have books open and pen out and don't spend the WHOLE period with the compact out." She complied and we were all happy.

Ah, illusions of compliance. That's all I ask.

And that my beloved not be killed in Cote d'Ivoire.

good news, bad news

The good news? My students didn't eat a substitute alive yesterday.
The bad news? That's because no substitute showed up because the subfinder system was effed up. Other teachers had to cover my classes all day. This means the kids go to that classroom and share the space with the class that's there. I couldn't say no today when asked, so I got to see the pleasure that is two full classes smashed into a space of one, not knowing the kids and not having lesson plans for them.
The good news about that? I get paid $30 an hour for "substituting" like that.

The good news? When I walked up to the school gates today, I said to the campus supervisor Chris, "You owe me $30." The day before panel he had walked up to me and said, "I have $30 in my wallet. Is that enough to get this one kid sent to GED?" Well, I sent that kid to GED. Because that campus supervisor is one of the best I've ever known - he has great relationships with all the kids and does an excellent job, and he told me this kid sneaks out of class to go smoke. [And, of course, he was joking about the $30. But I took what he said seriously.]
The bad news? The principal won't discipline that kid because he's Black. I noticed that at panel, the principal's intense fear of disciplining Black kids. He told us to be sure only once, and it was for that reason. The stupid bigot without a spine - he's afraid of a accusations of racism. And he is racist. But Mexican parents are quieter. That is so effed up.
Oh, and the good news about that – Chris said it was the best panel ever and he’d be happy to give me far more than $30 (though, I noticed his wallet didn’t actually OPEN during this conversation). He said it was very fair, and the kids who got second chances really deserved, and we didn’t get bullshitted.

The good news? I'm about 85% certain I won't be returning to teach next year.
The bad news? There are 18 more weeks left.

day in the life

I got paid today. I love direct deposit. I hate that payroll won't return my numerous messages. I love having money in the bank. I hate paying bills. I love that there's not much I need to buy now - got my needs taken care of with the new phone (last one, 6 years old) and new computer (last one, only 4 years old, but very dead). I hate buying gas at $2.49 a gallon.

Got a paper back tonight. Love getting A's. Starting to hate writing them.

Taking off tomorrow, just called in sick. Love these automated phone-in systems. Hate how it will feel to be back on Friday with the kids having destroyed the room and eaten the substitute alive. Will spend the day lying in bed with Cliff, my other boyfriend. The anthropologist Geertz.

Am not hungry but only ate 690 calories today. Should eat something, but heavy calorie foods will make me feel really icky (ate cookies yesterday and did) and don't really want to chop up a salad. I just ate a banana and that's all I really wanted. This is strange.

Wonder how long it will take roommate to wash the pan that has been sitting in the sink since last Friday. Wonder if she'll take out the garbage. She wants things done a certain way, so she can do it. I take out the recycling, which involves me sorting through their trash because they can't understand the difference. Which actually doesn't bother me that much (or I wouldn't do it), but I'm not going to take out the garbage, too, because they produce the vast majority of it. (This is the real reason I don't want to chop up a salad - the garbage can is overflowing and I couldn't fit peelings and such in it.)

Only 12 more class sessions left! And I'm thinking of skipping one of each to go trans-oceanic.

Panel was fun again. One girl, one of mine (Simone), brought her mom, her godmother, and her grandma. It wasn't her idea, but it was fun to see them all, shake their hands, all that. They are STUBBORN non-English speakers.

Peanut butter. Addressed my dilemma there. I realized I'm not hungry because I haven't exercised the past two days because of panel, but I don't think it's healthy to dip below 1200 calories per day - it'll whack my metabolism. I'll have a big salad tomorrow to make up for the lack of greens today.

What I really love? That I just got the spring scheduled emailed to me - AND I DON'T HAVE TO ENROLL! Woo hoo!