new blog

Hey, I'm starting a new blog. Please email me and I'll send you the URL - don't want to blanket publish it here.

life goal

I need to get my French and Spanish very good, then refresh my German and refresh/improve my Russian. If I then learn Arabic, that will be six languages.

And then? I'll be sextalingual. And that just SOUNDS cool. (I'm of course not sure that's the right word, but I'm keeping it!)

(Oh, and I forgot on last post - one of my students CAME BACK! YAY! He was on the run from the cops for something I don't want to know about, but his diligent stepfather found him (in Miami!) and got him back. The kid came by my classroom yesterday to tell me when his stepfather drove him directly from the airport to reenroll him - then he went home to crash. Hopefully I see him today and every day!)

reunion

Having a hard time justifying going to my 20th high school reunion. It would be SO MUCH FUN - it sure was last time.

But, the flight would be about $800, plus $100 reunion fee, plus hotel and car rental (I don't really know anybody who still lives there - at least, I'm not really in touch with people and don't want to be like, "Hey, wanna save me a couple C-notes by letting me crash with you?").

Because, all that gets me a trip to Mongolia, or a trip to and month in Senegal. Or trip to and several months in Mexico.

I know some people see these as big trip, but I see trips across the world while dodging passport-page-wasting-visas as big trips.

Alas. It makes me sad, but I guess I must forgo. Sigh.

The Kyrgyzstani invaders are not here now ... making me worry, of course, that they'll come storming back at midnight. My poor students, putting up with my exhaustion and sleep deprivation. I'm trying to be even-tempered, but I have to take at least partial responsibility for their slow-like-molasses progress. Rowdy 5th period today for the first time EVER was SILENT. For a sustained period of time - like 15 minutes. It was amazing. It wasn't necessarily good (they should have been working together), but it was such a little piece of heaven that I almost kissed each and every one of them. I said, "Thanks so much for sharing this beautiful moment with me," and Spitfire said, "See how you love me," and then others were like, "No, she loves me more" and the golden silence became only a beautiful memory. (BTW, I realized that getting angry at Aztec Boy is amazingly effective - he hates it when I'm angry at him. No more will I hold back from that.)

I have one kid from 5th who is The Agitator - gets everybody else all fired up and in trouble. Anyways, at "brunch" today Security Guard 2 (he's great, but not as incredible as SG1) asked who he was, and he wasn't hanging where he usually does outside my classroom. They are planning on stalking him because he leaves school right after my class and they want to see where he goes and calling the cops to issue truancy tickets - you know, like poisoning the whole termite's nest. So, 5th period Mr. Principal Man calls and says, "Answer this without letting him know we're talking about him. Is The Agitator there?" Then right after school Security Guard 1 yelled accusingly across the quad to me, "What's with your boy The Agitator?" I whispered, hey, this is all on the DL man, and besides, he ain't MY boy or MY problem. And he was like, "I don't care! He's a pain in my ass!" Which, Mr. Cool Security Guard #1 simply DOES NOT SAY.
But, it's true. The boy needs a smack-down. Little agitator. Why does he have to stay for MY CLASS every day? If he's going to skip, why can't he do it BEFORE my class?

Why? Honestly? Because I make sometimes more than 10 phone calls a day to get kids to my class. Today it was about 7 parents, "La clase comienza y su hijo/a no esta' aqui. Donde esta'?" I heard about lots of flat tires and incorrect start times and all sorts of BS.

Too many of my students won't have a high school graduation reunion to consider attending because they won't graduate. Sad. Though I don't believe the stats that say 30% of kids or more don't graduate - I've never been in a district who had anywhere near that kind of drop-out rate. And I teach the toughest kids.

wasted lives

Three of my students are up for expulsion for drug and alcohol-related incidents. One, my favorite cholo, had a positive for marijuana urine test. Another didn't go to mandatory counseling. Another drank vodka at school (again). That's 3% of my students in one week. Damn.

The first one is the most difficult for me - we were doing great. I didn't realize until today - he is probably the reason that class was so great for me. For whatever reason, he decided I am the only cool school person that exists, and he's the toughest guy in there. Nobody messed with me and nobody messed with him.

I miss him. I miss his willingness to tell me when I'm wrong from his perspective, and his willingness to politely at least appear to be listening to me when I tell him he's wrong from my perspective.

It didn't help his case that he cussed out Flanders.

He's a great person. I hope his life is not wasted.

Kyrgyzstani invasion

Finally, about 11:30 pm, I got out of bed and asked roommate's boyfriend to keep it down a little bit (they were excitedly talking loudly RIGHT OUTSIDE MY BEDROOM).

He introduced me to the 'rents, visiting for his wedding this weekend.

"I forgot how to say 'nice to meet you' in Russian" (perhaps because I WAS ASLEEP). He couldn't remember either - but he speaks really fluently, so that was just on the spot and between three languages. (Now, of course, I remember)

But the look of glee on those people's faces when I said even just a few words in Russian - it was like real crabmeat at the Protestant old people's buffet. "She really speaks Russian!" they said to each other, immensely relieved - what with being thousands of miles from home and knowing nobody speaks Kyrgyz (related to Turkish, unrelated to anything else just about - and I know not a word). Of course I got grilled about WHY I speak Russian and why so well (which, it's not - again, if I stick to phrases I've said 100,000 times, then I sound good - but otherwise, it's a struggle to remember anything - and those gears clicking in my head are audible).

So, Tami if you're reading - it's YOTL for me wherever I go - even just outside my bedroom.

And now, I"m so tired, and off to another really, really long day. Yawn.

detox

Last week:

Breakfast: orange juice, coffee (not good), eggs, bacon, potatoes, French toast w/syrup
Lunch: turkey & American cheese on white bread sandwich, chips, cookies, Snickers (for snack)
Supper: salad (not fresh iceberg), mixed vegs (boiled, with margarine?), lasagna, white roll
Dessert: cake

This week:
Breakfast: shredded wheat with skim milk (will be soy when this runs out), one cup excellent coffee
Lunch: salad (spinach, cabbage, carrots, cauliflower, broccoli, Persian cucumbers, sesame seeds, sunflower seeds, Goddess dressing, chicken breast)
Supper: sweet potato (baked), banana, hummus w/whole wheat Naan, carrot-strawberry-tofu smoothie
Dessert: cocoa (organic, with skim milk) - it's chilly here!

OK, maybe last week's meals don't LOOK that bad - but trust me, they were. White bread in particular seems to really just wipe me out. All that sugar - it was icky. Therefore, I gained 5 pounds. Now I'm not dieting, just trying to feel better. I can't eat junk food any more - those days are over. It makes me feel icky, very icky.

Anyway, met with 2nd home instruction kid today, and he was a normal kid. Well, normal to me - strange yeah, but not aggressive and crazy. He's smart and worked hard and was enjoyable - as was his mother who said my Spanish is "muy bueno". Maybe I should start believing people when they say that - yesterday when I was making about 10 phone calls home during class to tell parents their kids were skipping, the looks on my students' faces = priceless. "Damn!" I heard them say, "She speaks really good! We can't never skip now." Which, I don't speak really good. I don't think. But, like the mom said today, she understood everything I was saying (and we were talking about all sorts of things) and I understood 95% of what she was saying. Knew lots of Spanish words the kid didn't.

Strangest comment today from a kid who just came back from a mental hospital: "You shouldn't be a teacher here. I mean that in a good way. You're too cool to be teaching here." This after I scolded his homophobia in the office.

Strangest comment yesterday from a co-worker I went to Aggressive Behavior Management Training with: "I miss spending time after school with you!" Why strange? Because the class wasn't fun. I also really enjoyed her company, but I still thought it funny how she said it. And she is the only Latina teacher and I actually respect her, so that was meaningful that she doesn't think I'm full of shit.

Strangest rant by me today, provoked by a kid calling himself a "nigga killa": "If you continue to let rich white men keep you hating Black people, then you will be stupid losers. As long as Black and Brown people and poor people in general don't work together, there will only be oppression and those evil guys are laughing their asses off. Don't be such an idiot."

Doctor didn't return my phone call. I'll try again tomorrow. The only time I can call is when she's at lunch. Loser. I woudl switch to a different doctor, but I think I'll switch to no doctor. I just want to know what's up with my tests that I already did.

VERY VERY STRANGE dreams last night - that I was sleeping in a house where we were gutting. Like, I laid down to sleep while we were gutting. So I kept waking up thinking (maybe shouting) "I'm here! don't hit there!" And I kept moving stuff and would wake up out of bed. It was SO REAL, it was creepy. Workfriend says it's repressed trauma from last week, and I agree. I mean, we just went in and did what needed to be done, helping people out who couldn't do it for themselves for physical and emotional reasons - but on some level it must have affected us as well. Maybe that's why I slept so poorly there last week. Hm ...

doctors suck

Today I went to the optometrist. He hit on me. It was disgusting and uncomfortable. And even with insurance new glasses would cost like $300 (with the UV coating and all that stuff I need). What's with that?! And he was incompetent, completely - there was no health survey of any sort. I'm at really high risk for glaucoma and macular degeneration, and he never asked and certainly never tested. Well, at least I had an incredibly awesome doctor two years ago and she said it's all good.

Then I just got a card from my doctor's office saying "We were unable to contact you by phone regarding the following."

First of all, that's bullshit. She has left no message. There has been no try to contact.

Second of all, this card tells me that blood tests and pap smear results are abnormal and "need to follow up in 3-4 months."

Yeah, right. It'll be like my thyroid - with more follow-ups I'll know I'm fine and "it has to be watched." I think I'd know if I'm sick. And if there are cancerous cells or something else - why on earth 3-4 months?

All this bullshit does is agitate me - just tried to call the office to leave a message it wasn't possible. Fuck this shit. I'm leaving the country!

I knew I didn't like this doctor - she doesn't tell me things, and she doesn't listen well. She's not horrible, she's just not really good. My last doctor was SO DAMN THOROUGH, but at least I trusted her. This one, I don't trust. When I was last there, there was blood in my urine and she told me to give another sample. Which I haven't done. Because I'm really busy and driving way the fuck across town with a cup of pee - it's not in my schedule.

Maybe I really am sick and maybe it's something significant. But then I certainly deserve way more respect than a card!

Next time I have the urge to get a physical, I will stop myself and remember that they're mostly all quacks and it will just be a HUGE WASTE OF MY TIME.

I just made a carrot juice-strawberry-tofu smoothie (Tami-inspired) - and it's surprisingly good!

Well, at least if I were to find out that I have terminal cancer, then I wouldn't feel bad about chocolate milkshakes every night.

Oh, and I'm supposed to go way far away to get an ultrasound for fibroids. Why? To know they're there? So what? I know they are, sometimes I can feel them - so why would I have to drink a gallon of water and drive far away and wait in a waiting room and get gooed up just so that I can then pay more money to go back to the doctor for her to tell me that I have fibroids and to "watch them"?

Here's what the web says:
"Uterine Fibroids, or uterine myomas (short for leiomyoma), affect more than 30% of women. The terms fibroid and myoma are used interchangeably. Most fibroids do not cause symptoms, and do not require treatment. Fibroids may require treatment in the following circumstances:
Fibroids are growing large enough to cause pressure on other organs, such as the bladder.
Fibroids are growing rapidly
Fibroids are causing abnormal bleeding
Fibroids are causing problems with fertility."

Of course I have fibroids - 1 in 3 women does. And most don't require treatment. Sometimes there's pressure on my bladder from them - but I STILL have to urinate less often than most people. And an ultrasound will not tell me that they are growing rapidly. Maybe that's why there's blood in my urine, but I'm not losing much blood. And yes, I do think they cause problems with fertility, but that's ok. I like this quote: "Vaginal probe ultrasound only takes a few minutes to do, is not uncomfortable, and rapidly provides invaluable information if the examiner is experienced in looking at uterine abnormalities."

Yeah, right. You want to stick something up inside me and tell me that it is not uncomfortable? Let me shove it up your ass and you can tell me how comfortable it is, Mr. MD.

OK, now I'm all riled up. I pity the fool who answers the phone there tomorrow.

Why

I am a freak.

I got a list of the kids coming back from GED-prep (the ones I sent there) and about half I put into my class.

After class one of the kids asked why I'd sent him to GED-prep, giving his laundry list of reasons it was unfair.

It was actually a fairly good conversation. If I were them, I would rise up in protest against me instead of privately asking to talk to me. I would picket and boycott me and call me the bitch.

Instead, that doesn't happen until the next class period - they act like 3-year-olds. I have about four kids who are really great, four kids who are really obnoxious, and the rest "go to the dark side so easily" (something said once about our kids, and so true).

8 more Fridays ... though, I overheard the principal talking yesterday about me teaching summer school and I winced and turned to him and was like, "Um, so, like, I can't get out of that? You need me?" His answer was pretty good: "Well, of course you can do whatever you want, but yeah, we need you."

I was going to apply to Tulane law school because I heart NOLA, but I think I will officially make it The Year Of Languages (as Tami & I designated it) and not do anything that isn't non-English. And, if I do TYOL, then I could teach summer school and not let them down.

Oh, had my first home instruction session yesterday - the kid was a pain in the neck. Just wanted to talk about fighting and how he ditches school. And I'm like, "Dude, you can't ditch this, I'm sitting at your kitchen table." And honestly, when I just laugh at his whining and protests he was fine. He actually wrote a pretty good narrative, and once I helped him with planning it was pretty hands-off. It's just exhausting doing this one-on-one - more for him than me.

Pics from St. Bernard Parish

The X's show the date checked and 0 bodies found.
Here comes the team with tools: Larry, Jeff, Melanie.
After the doorway was cleared enough to enter, Maria got to work. (Yeah, that's a bridge there, that we had to cross to get into the house.)Same doorway, the next day.
Nearing the end, Stacy brings back the wheelbarrow for another load. Behind her is the debris that we removed so far.


Many houses for sale in the parish.

leaving New Orleans

Overheard in a bookstore at the New Orleans airport between two salesclerks: "And he didn't even talk with me, he just came in here all a-blowin' like a trombone!"

Seen walking from Bourbon Street back to the car: A man riding slowly on a tandem bicycle, a boombox playing jazz on the back seat, he wearing a very dapper hat and red shoes, drinking from a wine glass.

That, friends, is why I like New Orleans. The metaphors and the juxtapositions of class. And the cafe au lait.

Last night in NO was spent cruising the French Quarter with Tami which was much fun. French Quarter Festival was in progress, music everywhere (though I get the sense that's usual), and yummy food stands so I had crawfish & goat cheese crepes.

I was extremely tired after a week of little sleep and very hard work so my NO perceptions are blurry, but I noticed a really strong African and African American presence (which, of course, I like much). I also noticed much revelry.

Leaving camp - not hard. So happy to not be sleeping on a cot in a military tent. Did enjoy time with security officer Charles, who suggested I apply for a job there - he takes home about $10,000 a month for that job and it requires little effort. Also did enjoy the company of all I met and I hope to see them there again.

Today is laundry, laundry, laundry and naps. Yawn.

Day 4 in St. Bernard Parish

Day 4 began on at 3 am - woke up and couldn't go back to sleep. Functioned fine today, however - must be ALL THE SUGAR.

Headed over to the mess hall at 6:30 for coffee & grub (eggs, potatoes, pancakes today) and then met up with the team at 7:15 for a bus taking us to the site. Our team leader decided to take her rented van, so I said I'd go with her and we got later to the site since we stopped for gas and sodas (Diet Dr. Pepper to fuel the troops).

Once we got there it was a day of ripping and gutting. Moldy sheetrock is my nemesis. The grossest part was the pantry I cleaned out which included dead rodent(s) and various unrecognizable crap. Blech.

Lunch was the usual - sandwich, chips, cookies. Plenty breaks throughout the day to keep hydrated. It's hard to do that because it's a hassle to take off the mask and antibac hands and all that.

We didn't finish the house today. I think we could have if we were better coordinated, but it is what it is and we still did fine work. We still have a room or two to get through - and a California King bed with a huge sturdy frame which will be really tough.

I really want to come back this summer for a few weeks. The camp facilities would get annoying, but it's such rewarding work. Talked a lot with neighbors today - all really nice folks who had some interesting stories.

I also want all my friends to come with me! And all their friends!

Most interesting stories? Last night from a security guard who was a prison guard - that prisoners were drowning in their cells and couldn't get out. Today from a person who knows several people who were evacuated to the Superdome - the violence there was so horrible including child rapes and murders - such horrible things that are never broadcast.

Our workday ends at 2:30, when the bus picks us up and toolboy waits with the tools for the tool pickup. We all smell really bad then, so we rush back and stand in line for the showers. The worst are the boots, for standing in Katrina sludge, but I'm not leaving mine here because they weren't cheap and they're really good boots. I've been so happy several times for having steel-toe, steel-shank boots - as well as a hardhat. Started off the first day with a pipe falling on my head, and I could hardly feel it. Yay purple hardhat!

Hey, so Jordan is looking like a possibility ASAP though. Just got email back from Mahmoud's brother's wife's sister who asked for my CV and says as a native speaker I have a great shot at a job there at the German Jordanian University where she works - she asked how soon I could start. I also just got email from a woman I met in Jordan - the one I almost visited, but she wanted me to stay four days I was leaving sooner than that.

I could be cool with Jordan. It's a mellow place and I like it, and I would learn so much Arabic so quickly because it's not an English-speaking place really. And as long as I had holidays to travel, that could be cool. I just don't know how long I would want to stay.

But anyway, things are good here - lots of hard, hard work.

Tonight I volunteer at the community kitchen, serving food to the needy. A guy today just said to me, "You can only do so much good." I laughed and said, "But there's so much other crap I have to make up for!" So, off to it.

work in St. Bernard Parish

Monday was an off-day because it was a holiday for Americorps who are the bus leaders and other critical positions.

So, we were assigned yard cleanup. We went to about 12 houses and raked up all the debris, especially glass and metal - since the weeds and such were growing high. We were told to walk - but it was about 5 miles away, so gratefully our team leader had a mini-van and we all crammed in (though we couldn't close the doors).

It was an easy day compared to the others, but it was tough for me being in the sun during record-breaking heat and I got a really bad headache.

But, it was all good.

A normal day was yesterday - we met at 7 am and loaded onto the bus (with our sack lunches with are complete junkfood - sandwiches on white bread, applesauce, cookies, chips/crackers). They dropped us off at a house that had been started by others - and it was a HUGE house - two stories plus so much attic. Unfortunately the people before us had done a crappy job with piles and other things, so getting finished was rough, but we did. What we did was ripping out sheetrock and insulation, ripping up flooring, taking everything out of the attic, ripping out cabinets, etc.

Today was another normal day - we started off with a new house. It was shocking - I'll try to upload some pics here, though I don't see a card reader. We couldn't even get in any door. We took off all doors and all windows (which took forever - they were weird windows) and then carried out crap. And more crap. And more crap. Sludge a few inches thick everywhere with all things mired in.

This house has about 6 bedrooms, a living room, a kitchen, a couple bathrooms. We haven't even touched a couple bedrooms yet, but the living room is really close to done - we finished up by ripping off the paneling, the sheetrock, the carpet, and the mantle. The kitchen is mostly done but there are a few more cabinets, and the refrigerator (they are SO TOXIC - can you imagine 8 months of food & hurricane water in there?? - they have to be duct taped and carefully carried out). In the bedrooms we have to finish carrying and shoveling everything out, the carpets ripped out, the walls. Then, the attic. I hope we finish tomorrow - that woudl be a nice sense of accomplishment.

But the weirdest part? THERE IS A MOAT. When you walk in the front door, there is a pond with a bridge that you have to cross to get into the house - it makes all our work even harder. Especially when slippery with hurricane sludge. Yuck.

OK, people waiting for internet.

our team

With Habitat for Humanity we work in teams of 10. On our team are two guys from Seattle (both between jobs, one a former firefighter), one woman from Nova Scotia going through an icky divorce after 18 years, and a salon owner from San Diego (our leader) and five of her employees.

Today I would have felt a bit self-conscious about showing my face in front of beauticians, but they looked as bad as me. It's hard work, but that's next post.

We work together pretty well - most people dig in, though a couple of the young women haven't worked much before. I try not to be bossy, but the youngest often stands around so I hand her tools and tell her what to do. She seems to appreciate it - I think she just doesn't see what to do, which i can certainly understand.

Some teams consist of people who came together, others are amalgamations like ours.

Camp Premier

OK, I'll try to do some separate blog entries on each feature of being here with Habitat for Humanity in St. Bernard Parish, Louisiana.

First, the camp itself.

Run by FEMA, not staffed by them though of course - all subcontracted out. The security is a private company, so having armed guards running around who spend all their time flirting, smoking, and cell chatting - well, it makes one nervous.

All amenities are provided - showers, bathrooms (of various odor), cots, and all food (after this week, NO MORE JUNK FOOD). There are these huge tents everywhere including the mess hall. My tent is actually within the mess hall tent - it's the size of an airplane hangar. The tent is small - just room for the 18 cots within. I'll move tents today - mine is far too loud, with its proximity to mess hall.

What else? There are air conditioners, of varying effectiveness. It's loud, it's gravel, it's armed guards.

I was fine with it until I went to the hippie camp last night, and it was a little slice of heaven - quiet, nature, and herbal tea.

There are about 350 Habitat for Humanity volunteers, plus several others (though we're probably the largest group).

People are nice, but not overly friendly. Most people didn't come alone, and they're in groups. I met a couple from San Luis Obispo and they are awesome and we hang out. OK, enough about camp.

new plan

Become a school counselor!

First, must find out payrate. If 20,000 more a year, then I should do it!

*********
Postscript: Scratch that plan. It's the same damn payscale! Only administrators make more - Gomez's salary DOUBLED when he became Asst. Principal. He works longer days but he doesn't have to plan, grade papers, etc. - and he can go to the bathroom whenever he wants/needs, like adults usually do.

PS to that - the principal yesterday made an announcement that students are not allowed to use the restroom at all (1 emergency pass per semester) because they are congregating to speak with their friends and use their cell phones.

I have a hard time with this. I'll keep my head low until it blows over, but there is no way I'm denying a kid go to the restroom when they need it - and sometimes they just need a little break from class and they come back ready to do what they're supposed to. And how dehumanizing! "No, you may not use the restroom." Please!

We have two campus security officers plus two administrators and a counselor. We have one boys' and one girls' restroom. They cannot wander past and break up congregation if that's a problem?

Good grief.

This principal goes over the top about everything - he is Mr. Overreaction. I can't believe he's 62 years old and has been in education for 35 years. At some point, he should have mellowed out.

en espanol

The moment when somebody realizes I speak Spanish, and that really shocked look - I never get over the thrill of it. I just used it to torment the children who are cleaning our house. (Which is another topic which I shan't even begin here, but it's why I'm trapped in my room blogging away now.)

I can't wait until I've spent a few months in Mexico and Ecuador and really speak it extremely well - then I will floor people.

Because it's not just Aztec Boy who thinks in boxes only - it's everybody who sees my green eyes and assumes I'm monolingual.

Though, I only get that here. Any time I travel to Mexico, Guatemala, Ecuador - people there assume I'm completely fluent (except for those pesky airport cops who search me because they find it suspicious). I get asked directions and such all the time. Funny.

Almost every time I go into the school office I help with communication - some parent is there who doesn't speak English and the staff is making it a problem. Today this poor guy came in and had just enough English to say he needed to pick up papers for his son, and the counselor and secretaries had NO IDEA what he was talking about - and they didn't even do basic problem solving to figure it out. I had to use my cattle prod to make things happen.

My accent is getting better. Sometimes too good - if I'm talking about something I've said before or written about, then people think I'm really fluent and they let at me and I have to beg them to slow down.

My students help a lot with my Spanish - teaching me slang and making me practice speaking and listening. I think it enhances my teaching of English. This one girl who is an ATROCIOUS speller couldn't remember "reverse." So I asked if she writes in Spanish, she does, so I was like, 'it's reverso but o to e." She got it right on the test.

Anyway, Aztec Boy told me today that Piolin was on an airplane and there were people talking trash about him without knowing who he was, sitting there. And when they got off the plane and needed help, he helped them. A flight attendant who knew all this was shocked.

Yay, Piolin!

no fears

I had this mini-panic of "Oh kerist, what if I run out of money!? What will I do?!"

The answer is, of course, that I will come back here, ask to stay with Michele for a couple of weeks, and promptly find a job in any one of the nearby districts, and then find housing.

I just looked at school districts and ALL are hiring for RIGHT NOW. And most pay better than I make now.

And not all of them have incompetent counselors.

How is leaving a bad thing? As long as I have a California teaching credential, I will never be destitute.

a place to sleep

So, I was surfing the net about FEMA camps, where I'll be staying next month. Why? Because they STRICTLY FORBID any photography. So I wanted to see pictures from people who broke the rule.

Here's what I found instead. That FEMA closed the camps on April 10th. That Habitat for Humanity can no longer house volunteers there.

This, of course, paniced me somewhat, since that's the only place I have directions to.

Fortunately, however, I'm diligent, and found that with pressure FEMA extended its camp openings until June 1st. And here's an article on what I'll be doing.

What's interesting that I also found - FEMA camps are being built secretly across the country with the idea that they can hold huge numbers of people. Outside Fairbanks, one facility reportedly can hold 2 million people (that's three times the population of ALL of Alaska). There also strange sitings of US AirForce railroad cars equipped with many shackles.

Why? Lots of theories, of course. Illegal immigrants?

I'll get a week to do some of my own theorizing.

Here are the best comments on the pic of me all geared-up:
"Rather than funny, you look pretty cool, but that is a nerdy guy perspective."
"Now I'll get myself a policeuniform, and Jenny can get a black leather outfit orso, and we'll start singing YMCA!"

somebody tell me

why there are so many stupid, incompetent people who are then also rude?

Good Girl's schedule has not been changed. Two weeks ago she showed proof to the counselor that she had passed the high school exit exam, and I watched counselor make a copy of the proof.

But did she take Good Girl out of my high school exit exam prep course? Of course not.

So now it's a new term after break and next term's schedule shows the girl STILL in my class.

So, I sent her up to the office today to ask to have it changed.

She came back, saying "Mrs. ADHD told me that she will do her job, thank you very much," - AND DIDN'T CHANGE THE SCHEDULE.

WTF?! She's NOT doing her job and she's been rude to the kid about it for two weeks and now rude about me through the kid? So she's unprofessional, too?

So 10 minutes later I walked through the office and she was standing there gossiping and talking about food with the secretaries. NOT DOING HER JOB STILL. I couldn't even talk to her because I knew I would not be polite.

On Monday morning if it's not changed, I'm going to the principal. It'll only make me look bad to be a snitch, but then I'll get some other teachers to do the same.

The thing is, IT'S NOT HARD AT ALL. The teachers are forced to do all the real work - all she has to do is remove and add from classes, paying attention (not very well) to class size. This thing that she makes into a huge ordeal and she doesn't do right and it still takes her a full-time week? I could do it in two class periods while teaching. It would take me maybe 30 minutes of full-time concentration to get it done. I've watched her do it, I know exactly what it entails. Unfortunately, I don't have access to the system. And unfortunately, she makes like $25,000 more a year than me, easy.

Which is, of course, why she's bitchy about it. Because she knows she's incompetent and Good Girl and I are on to her secret.

The problem is, Good Girl is getting shafted by forced to stay in a class that she doesn't need. Which is why I'll take it to the next step if things aren't resolved.

I save the big guns of bitchiness for just these occasions.

next week

I shall have very strange tan lines.

Off to Target. How do I not own pajamas?

interesting site

Kevin Sites in the Hot Zone - he travels around the world to dangerous spots to humanize the conflict.

Of course it's not perfect - he's only there a short time and they're short TV clips. But very, very interesting - to see Grozny, Chechnya, for example. And DRC. And other places that intrigue me.

And of the little I saw, it's not a gratuitous interest that he has, but a desire to communicate and inform the rest of the world.

Far too often we turn our heads, but we have a moral responsibility to deescalate violence everywhere. Why? Because we are the most privileged people to have ever existed on the planet, and our actions effect the rest of the world. Where does our oil come from? Our diamonds? Our rubber? Our molybdenum? Our cheap clothes? Our coffee? AND WHAT VALUES DO THEY ENCOURAGE??

Yesterday I got an email about boycotting Exxon/Mobile in order to lower gas prices, and I promptly sent a "reply all" that we should instead carpool, use public transportation and our feet, and demand more energy efficient vehicles. We should work near where we live and we should consider the consequences of our actions.

This disposable lifestyle is far too alluring, as roommate and boyfriend show. Too easy to throw everything in that huge dumpster and then forget about it - but it is not gone. I'm fortunate that my grandmother survived the Depression and taught me the values of frugality and walking gently on the earth.

Sigh, time for work.

a moment

I had a moment today. Good Girl came to ask me a question during 5th period (my rowdy class - they were taking a test - and they were SUPER good because I started off by saying, "Look, I've already written three office referrals today and just had a horrible hour,") about matrix multiplication. And I could not for the life of me remember how to do it.

Teacher was gone (6-year-old has had a very high fever for two weeks and is in hospital) and sub was clueless, so she came to me because, "You helped me so much last time - I really got it when you explained." I helped her with math? When? She's only been my student for a week. And after Friday, no more because she doesn't qualify for my classes - her English is proficient and she passed the high school exit exam. Then I remembered a little cipher activity I helped her with.

Pressure was on, and I surfed the 'net and found it and memory was jogged and she got it. Mission accomplished. Reputation intact. Phew. There for a moment, I thought I was a geek without a clue.

Another moment today - not a great one - Boy Whose Name is Spelled Like a Girl's said in rapid Spanish, "Breathe, Deep Breaths, Relax," because I'd just kicked a girl out of the classroom for getting on the internet without permission. He worries so much about me so I said quietly, "You know, this is just between us, but I always act a little more pissed off than I really am. Actually, I'm totally relaxed right now, but I wanted everyone to know you DON'T BREAK MY RULES." High-5 ensued with, "Wow! That's so cool! And it really works! Because I like always act good in here because I don't want to upset you - and now I know it's fake! Wow!"

OK, telling the underlings the secret - bad move. I was weak. It was a moment.

In another weak moment, I spied an announcement for home schooling for $33/hour. I called. Now, I'm hired - and of course I got the kid who was expelled for inciting racial violence. Gomez was the signing Asst. Principal, so I called and got the scoop. I love connections. But now I look at my calendar and with meetings and other commitments and classes ON TOP OF TEACHING FULL TIME, I wonder how I'll teach 10 extra hours a week! Sigh.

But, it doesn't matter, because tomorrow is Friday. Once I have my grades turned in, I am escaping for a WHOLE WEEK to hurricane-land.

Best news today is from Gail, who told me about a girl we worked HARD with - she graduated and is saving money for college. Yay! Our efforts were not in vain! She was on the fast-track for dropping out - some staff even thought she'd get pregnant and drop out before finishing 8th grade. She's showing them wrong and I LOVE IT because I never doubted her. I worried, but never doubted.

So, here's to Sara V., who would be so freakin scary and kick the ass of those kids whose cell phones rang in class and who disrupted my teaching and were assholes.

Chief Asshole - today right after my class at 9:30 am he got busted for DRINKING VODKA IN CLASS. I kid you not (no, he wasn't drinking it in my class). Every teacher and every person who interacts with him has told me what an asshole he is. Like I said, he's better now, but he's got such deep issues it's frightening.

I'm frightening. I have these two kids for two classes straight, and they're both SO SHY that I worry about hurting and breaking them. But their skills are SO LOW and I make them write and rewrite - and after six weeks, I do see improvement. Yay! More improvement to come, at least until they shatter.

Piolin

Piolin - Eduardo Sotelo - is a DJ at a LA Spanish-speaking radio station.

I know lots about him because Aztec Boy wrote a paper on him, tells me about him, etc. Piolin had a huge part of a million people showing up at the protest I went to - and all the others. He also kept 'em peaceful.

Like I said - when I went to this march, it was different than others. It felt like a grassroots family affair. Not about leaders but about people.

I kinda thought Aztec Boy was exaggerating Piolin's importance. But NPR's story today (there's a reason I went to work 10 minutes earlier today) showed me differently.

So I went to my classroom and made a mental note to myself to tell AB about it. Before mental note was processed, he walked in to show me his new clothes (why do kids buy distressed jeans??). I thanked him for making me cooler for telling me all about Piolin and keeping me informed (I try to listen to Piolin myself and he talks TOO DAMN FAST) and he gave me that look he gives so well and said, "Cooler? Harumph. Cool at all." Then we argued about how he's prejudiced and whether his "Girls Gone Wild Film Crew" t-shirt is stupid. Ah, what a way to start my day. He may be able to read my mind and whenever I want to see him he appears, but it never takes more than a minute or two to find something to disagree about.

Thanks to Spitfire later in the day whom I shouted at, "You're stupid! You told me the wrong store!" and her response shouted across the classroom was, "You are Mexican! You're like us! I really like you!"

Is it just my kids who break the rules? What becoming-a-teacher textbook ever tells you to yell at kids and call 'em stupid? I did it because she had just shouted I was stupid for going to the wrong store, and then she realized she'd crossed the line so I deescalated with humor. There was this kid "visiting" my class (another teacher couldn't handle him so sent him to me for the class period), and the look on his face was hilarious. We must have all looked like we escaped from the asylum - everybody except quiet special ed girl acts like a maniac in there.

Every damn week they have to break me in. I was thinking, "Oy, Mondays are the worst because they forget how school is," blah blah blah. Nope. Mondays are worst because *I* forget how school is. How do they learn best? When we're all shouting over each other and making slightly rude jokes in English and Spanish and I tell them to do something and they argue and throw a fit and I rudely laugh at them and they do it. When I have my Zen moments of surfing the waves of juvenile delinquency.

Now, not all my classes are like this, but they all have the tendency to a degree and the less sane I am the better the day goes. Maybe I seem like a loose cannon, but my crazy responses are all very timed and reasonable. REally. It's all part of my plan for student success. Or, wait, was that a plan for world domination?

Anyway, about the kid visiting, another weird mindreading moment from Aztec Boy today - when computer teacher called asking if I could take the kid, I said sure and asked a couple questions of her (like what his name is - which she didn't know - and what he was supposed to be doing. AB came over to my desk and was talking to me and I said, "Oh, tell me when that kid comes out of the classroom" - and AB had actually been watching for him through the window to make sure everything was cool. Kinda like how my dog Selma likes to get between me and any potential perpetrator.

So, I finished the Assaultive Behavior class tonight - not how to do it, how to deal with it. And I think that honestly in a situation like that my biggest problem would be keeping kids out of the situation and letting me handle it myself. If a kid jumped me in any of my classes, I have no doubt I would have kids immediately defending me.

Now, I'm not all that popular or anything, but it's a loyalty code thing. They take care of their own. And sometimes I'm close to being one of them. And enough have told me often enough, "Ms. B, we got your back."

In my classroom it may well often look like the lunatic is running the asylum, but it helps. I can't coerce my kids - they are hardened criminals, many of them. All unsuccessful certainly and hard-assed about it.

But I don't try to be their friend, either. I never try to be cool, because, well, it's hopeless. I'm a geek.

But as Ana Angel taught me years ago, "cool is on the inside." I get to be myself. Goofy and bad-jokey and driven and blunt.

They know what to expect from me. Some days are better than others for me, and my moods are not always predictable. But I'm always honest. They always have to work. I always want to help. These things never change.

But as always, I don't want to be remembered by my kids - I want their successes to be owned by them.

Dammit, I really didn't want to bond with them because it will make leaving so much harder.

Well, too late for that.

no doubts

So, if I had any doubts about quitting JSMU (which, of course, I don't), they would have evaporated today.

The assistant dean sent a letter yesterday telling me I'm not hired to teach summer school courses.

Um, I quit and withdrew my application more than two weeks ago? And she knows because she emailed me several times about it.

The only way I can interpret it is to see her saying, "YOu can't leave us because we reject you first!"

Um, too late.

Crazy.

students

How can I not love the student who comes to class today with a file folder full of organized work to turn into me?

Or the one who overheard a bit-heated conversation on the phone and said, "What was that? Miss, you know we got your back. No worries."

Or the one who stayed after for two hours to type for the first time ever in his life?

Or the one whose name I cried out in dismay because she was socializing instead of working and who responded, "Miss, I love you too!"

Or the one who read Neruda's Poema de Amor #20 aloud in class - over and over (he has a great accent, and this is the poem that Lalo and I became friends over).

How about the kid who lied to a teacher to say he needed to talk to me about a project? There is no project and he never showed up, and the other kid who said he needed to talk to me - I don't even have that kid in class. Not loving them, quite easy. I'm trying to not take it TOOO personally. It makes me feel a little better - this kid is the only one I feel has an antagonistic relationship with - and the Most Excellent Security Guard said the same thing about him. It's not just me.

So, what's going to make me feel better? I'm going to visit Spitfire at work and I'm going to humiliate her. I'm going to drive a couple miles out of my way to go into that supermarket in order to enjoy some payback. VENGEANCE IS MINE. All the time she cussed in class or talked when I was explaining or asked how much beer I drank - well, maybe I should just break ketchup bottles and make her clean them up.

Of course, really I'll just walk in and find her and watch that embarrassed pride she gets with attention, and that will be all. I would be far more entertaining if I were more vengeful.

And then I'll go to my class on assaultive behavior and I just hope we'll learn restraints tonight. Because somebody needs to restrain me tomorrow when I get all assaultive on lying kid's ass.

But writing about today would not be complete without reliving the roaring laughter when a kid asked if I wasn't feeling well (I'm not) and then offered me "pills." I was like, dude, thanks for the illegal medication, but no thanks. And besides, you sure don't want to see me high. If you think I'm talkative and annoying now, you should see me -

I shut up. I had the whole class's riveted attention, and I've rarely seen a group of people roar with laughter all at the same time. And it wasn't malicious, but just like, "Oh shit! The teacher gets high!" And Papi Cholo cracked a joke about me hangin in southcentral LA scoring, and then we moved on. Which is the very best part - no perseverating or any of that, but it's a class of mature kids who can laugh like hell and then move on. I have to worry a little that some will ask me to go smoke out with them now, but I can laugh that off. This is the class of kids who hasn't passed the high school exit exam, and they struggle academically - so anytime we bond, it's all good. Even at my expense.

after school

Kid in after school, doing his makeup work (typing essay): "You know people are all talking about you, how you're the nicest teacher."

Me: What?! You've got to be joking. Who says such BS?

Kid: You know, my homeboy in 3rd period, and these other guys I dunno, and me and this homie here, and - well, people are talking, that's what they say. They say you clown around on us and all, but you're really cool.

Me: Must be the drugs. [audible scoffing]

Trust me, when I give all those "no credits" on Friday because they didn't do mandatory writing assignments, there will be plenty talk about me, and it will all start with "fucking bitch."

Though, tough cholo who has anti-authority issues, who only works for me (he says), really wanted to chat during his advisory 30 seconds. I sit with each kid in 3rd period and we figure out their schedule for next term - usually it's a very quick: "You passing this class [English 9]? OK, time to move into this class [English 10]." But he actually wanted to talk about school things, and he even was cracking jokes.

So, I took a deep breath and slowed down and talked to him. Because that's really what he needed - some adult at a school who doesn't think he's Mr. Asshole (what the counselor calls him) and who really does care about what he says and thinks. Because I do - I think he's a cool person. Integrity-challenged perhaps, but he's a teenager and we all make mistakes sometimes.

Now, I don't want him talking smack about me, spreading lies that I'm nice or something, but I want him to keep lowering his defenses because they stand in the way of his learning. And I do want him to feel like a valued human being and not just a cog in the machine that represses him because of how he looks (like a gangsta) and what his name is (Hispanic). My hunch? He got big in middle school and it freaked the teachers out and they tripped on him and he tripped back, and here we are today. So many teachers are afraid of big kids, especially black and brown ones.

Me? They may be stronger and faster than me, but I know the knees are weak on everybody. If they come at you, kick 'em and they go down HARD.

Anyway, then I was working in the office on students' files (they are such a mess, I want at least the English Learning part right) and a woman came in who didn't speak any English. I got to help her, which got me my brownie points for the day. And I learned something.

The part that bothers me about today ... last week the principal had a MANDATORY staff meeting (the second in two days) about the results of a survey done that was supposed to be PRIVATE AND CONFIDENTIAL. He wanted explanation for everything that wasn't glowingly positive about him.

All I can do is thank goodness for the little voice in me that told me not to do it.

A coworker who is the union vice president thinks that this is completely appropriate - that if you don't like Mr. Principal Man, then you shouldn't teach there.

And that totalitarianism nauseates me. It's the same as my last school - if you're not for him, you're against him. That's BULLSHIT. People can disagree about things and not always like each other much, and still have a positive environment for kids. Instead, we as teachers are forced to swallow any questions or discontent because it's seen as disloyal or backstabbing.

And honestly, that's not just bullshit, but that may be one of the reasons schools suffer - because teachers DON'T stand up enough and say, "Hey, I disagree with you and I think you're wrong."

How did we get to this point in our country where questioning is disloyalty? It's scary.

are these quizzes ever right?

So, I'm having second thoughts about the break-up.

Lalo tells me straight-out I did the right thing. But he, like Sabine, was never really pro-Dayton.

So, I took a quiz, very Cosmo-like, because these things are scientific, right? And here's what I got:

Break Up? Are You Kidding?

You're relationship is top notch, period!Why are you even taking this quiz? :-)Maybe you know you've got a good thing goingOr maybe you're a little shaky from a fightEither way, stick with this guy!

Should You Break Up With Him?

things I love

When I get email from friends, and my name is the only ethnic incongruity. Such as, all Mahmoud's friends' names are "Alsoud" and "Batayny" and "Salem" and "Zayati" etc. - all very clearly Middle Eastern.

And then there's me.

Or when I get email from Gail and all the recipients's last names are "Chu" and "Yuen" and "Lau" and so forth. And then there's me. Gotta love it.

I have three bookshelves full of books. Goal: read and get rid of them all.

But how can I? Well, there are intermediate steps - such as taking all my No. 1 Ladies Detective Agency books to Shirley this morning, who loves Rooibos tea, and saying vaguely, "I might want them back someday ..."

Others are much easier to get rid of - just need to be read and passed along.

But what about Swedish poetry? German children's stories? Russian songs? Meaningful gifts given to me by people - such as The Cloister Walk by fundamentalist roommate Trish, or The Wind in the Willows at my birth from mother's college roommate?

These things have I loved and still do.

Well, maybe that's the rule. If I've looked at them in the past five years, they're keepers. Anything else is gone.

Then there are the books that mean something to me that are out of print - such as one that has a chapter about my friend Andy. Or another about teaching in an Eskimo village. If I get rid of them, I may never be able to replace them.

And what about all my school books? To replace them will cost a small fortune - at $40/book average, and about 70 books ... well, that's almost $3,000 worth of books. Yikes.

But that's just money. The markings in them are valuable too, especially if I continue studies in education. Hm.

Things are never so easy. I just want to clear out and move on. But things linger.

colored bins

We have three colored bins. The blue is for recycling, the black is for trash, and the other one (not green, though it should be) is for yardwaste.

CLEARLY when roommate's boyfriend mows the laws he should put the clippings into plastic trashbags and put them in the trashcan. Clearly. What else would be sane?

OK, I've reached a detente with the recycling by taking it out every day. Otherwise it gets bundled up with trash and put in the trash - or in the recycling bin, which sort of defeats the purpose when it's tied in a bag with non-recyclable items. I frequently look in the trash, take out the recyclable items (though they've gotten better about it) and take them outside.

I just don't know what to do. Yesterday I had to leave a little note about not starting laundry after 9 pm - because last week it kept me up far later than I wanted to be up. So, I'm already crazy roommate. And that directly affects me.

But they will think this doesn't directly affect me. But it does - it's filling up MY landfills with grass clippings which could very nicely compost. ARGH!!!

They are SUCH consumers. And stop blaming the damn Americans because they are NOT Americans - she's Chinese and he's Kyrgyz.

Germans are the only ones I know who are cool with recycling in the US. Everybody else thinks I'm some trash-nazi when I suggest - as nicely as possible - that it takes no more effort to put it in the blue bin.

My kids recycle paper now because I scream when they don't (shriek in agony is perhaps a more accurate description). But, they just put it in a box that I lug home and put in the blue bin - because, of course, our school has no recycling. Why would it? ARGH.

Sigh.

Anybody stupid enough to put lawn clippings in plastic bags in a trash can when a yard waste bin is SITTING RIGHT THERE - I don't even know where to start with telling him why that's stupid. And he is only here on weekends, so he's not even the person who would be lugging that bin to the curb - that's roommate and yours truly.

Sigh.

the perfect year

Tuesday evening: "Dinner and chocolate-making for dessert (students learn to prepare homemade chocolate from the cacao bean)"

Wednesday evening: "Dinner and coffee roasting/grinding (prepare coffee 'from the bean to the cup')"

Did these people specifically start this farm in order to cater to my every desire??

Volunteering at an Ecuadorian organic farm for a few months? OK, I think I've just about rounded off a perfect year.

First, a trip to Mongolia, a few months at a Quaker house in Mexico City, a few months in Senegal, and now a few months at this organic farm in Ecuador. MAKING MY OWN CHOCOLATE AND COFFEE!! Good grief - it's as though I died and went to heaven. If I believed in heaven. Which I don't.

I know my students - and probably everybody else - thinks I'm crazy for working and saving my money just to be able to volunteer. But, it's rewarding in a way that others find cruises and Mercedes rewarding.

I'm beginning to seriously think that even if I am accepted to law school that I should put it off a year. Once I become a lawyer, I won't have the time to take off a year to go sleep in a yak tent and make my own chocolate and chill with Quakers and stalk Youssou N'Dour in his home country. I'll have the money to do those things on my one week off a year, but I won't have the time.

Ugh. Just got email from Dayton and he's doing the Leo pride hurt thing. Whatever. I've made up my mind and I'm moving on, and he can call me unreasonably impatient and demanding all he wants. Of course I am, I never said I wasn't. He's so angry that his usual careful speech is nearly incomprehensible. His trip to Cote d'Ivoire was really the beginning of the end for us. Sigh. It's so hard - I love him so much, but there are things I won't accept - such as being an adulteress. Sigh.

Note: When taking off a year and traveling the world, when meeting the perfect man don't be heartbroken when it doesn't work out.

non-busy

I woke up this morning about 6:30 and went back to sleep.

Got up about 7:15 and made some coffee and braced myself for the day.

But something is missing.

There is nothing I have to do today. I'd like to finish this book I've been chipping away at for awhile, I'd like to go for a long walk, I'd like to watch Flight Plan.

But I have no to-do list. Nothing pressing. Nothing important, nothing engaging. I could go and hang out with friends or chill alone.

Wow. There are actually people who live this life longer than one Saturday. Wow.

And now if you'll excuse me, I'm about to drink my coffee and enjoy the most relaxing day I've encountered in quite some time. I had days like this in Jordan, and then a phone call from Mahmoud would change everything. But he's not calling me, and I'm not answering - and there's no great falafel and knafe a block away.

the strut

I know what it is - Cliff Curtis ain't got the strut.

There's a rolling shoulder hip action that the homies got while they shuffle along in their baggies - you can see it in American Me or in my classroom. I could never do it right - though when I mimic everyone recognizes - but I can see it in an instant.

And again, I ain't hatin on Maoris, but Cliff Curtis ain't got the strut at all. So THEY NEED TO STOP FUCKING CASTING HIM AS A MEXICAN!

Just saw Training Day (thanks to Michele's large DVD collection) and it was very good. Good triumphs over evil - and I will watch ANYTHING with Denzel. I would watch hours of toothpaste commercials with Denzel. His charisma is amazing.

And I ain't hatin on Cliff Curtis - I mean, he's fairly convincing as a gangbanger and he ain't a bad actor. But when he walked across the room in Training Day, the lack of accurate strut just bitchslapped me.

I never thought of myself as an expert, but I been breakin cholo gangbangers since 2001, and that ain't nothin - especially the last five months. I know the signals, the signs, the movements. I can see when something's going on and who's with who. That's survival, cuz (what one kid insists on calling me recently, though I don't think he's a Crip). The peripherals let me in on the secrets and then the cholos don't fight me.

(Side note: some kid made some comment about corridos the other day during a discussion on literary terms and I said, yeah, like that. See, Lalo is a major narco-corridos fan and gave me lots of CD's to listen to and we were going to go to a corridos museum exhibition in AZ. And these new guys were like, "Ah, you don't know what corridos are," and I said, "Oh yeah. Ballads that used to be about historical revolutionary figures but now are more about drug running, and they're kinda like nortenas and use a lot of guitar and storytelling," and the few girls and the other guys loyal to me were like, "Yeah! Ha!" and I was like, "So, I pass your little Mexican test for the day? Can we move on?" and they were like, "Shit man, she's not just a stupid white bitch," and it was over, but I got more prestige in that moment than anything I could have done short of knifing somebody. Thanks to Lalo.)

The strut is what makes me able to tell the difference between an African and an African American in less than a stride. I can tell immediately on the camp any guy who's been to the US. Because that strut - well, I'm lucky I'm a white girl, but for lots of people especially brown males, it can be a matter of life and death.

So anyway, I just wanna give a major declaration to all Hollywood casting agents - when casting Mexicans, actually cast Mexicans. And to Cliff Curtis, you just gotta say chale, homes.

Um, and yeah, I know - I don't make a very good Quaker. Because I am of this world.

working girl

I see my REI application beside me. Do I finish it? Do I drop it off today?? I never heard back from the graduate division about working there, and that's fine - the traffic and parking is quite an ordeal there. I keep salivating over REI gear. Sigh. But if I go to law school in fall, I'll quit an REI job before it even starts ...

Today was a day I was glad I showed up to work, despite feeling like hell. Kids were grateful for and appreciative of me.

From: "I only work for you" to "This and PE are my favorite classes" to "I shouldn't have to say the pledge, so thank you" [I don't require it for myriad reasons] to "I really know how to write essays now because of all this you make us do" to being fondled with cold hands (the boy who won't keep his hands off me) to getting kids in correct classes to getting the gangbangers straight from lock-up off to a good start at least for my 45 minutes a day to answering all sorts of "I wonder" questions about democracy in the US - it was a good day to be me.

Not in terms of being an easy day or fun day, but just a day where it made a difference that it was me that showed up and not just any warm body.

A low point was sounding far too informed about nudist places. The image my 5th period has of me is frightening.

A not-so-low-point was when Mr. Anti-Authority (when that authority is me) who tags on books and acts sullen (though he's improved DRASTICALLY) was laughed at by his classmates. Why not low? Because he tried to give me attitude when I told him to redo an assignment, and so when he half-assed redid it I gave him partial credit. Today I handed it back and his tablemates saw it and were like, "You fool! She's totally right! You're just being stupid trying to argue! This was a stupid thing you did when you said this!"

Now, normally I don't encourage verbal jumping on students, but sometimes it works miracles. His attitude changed even more drastically after that - he came to my desk to conference (his initiative) about a paper and asked for my opinion about parts of it. Not just to slide by and do a crappy job and then blame me for not getting an A, but because he actually understood that I'm not totally full of shit nor out to get him. (He was venting that I set him up to fail, and his classmates smacked him down, pointing out what he has done to fail and how I've supported him.)

And that is really, at the end of a day at a continuation high school, all I ask for. To be respected and appreciated.

gerbil dreams

21 days in the Mongolian wilderness - does this have my name written all over it or what?!

Trying to figure out how I can afford such a luxurious indulgence. Well ... luxurious may be an overstatement, considering I'd be living in a shared tent* with only a bowl of water each day to clean myself. But, how cool would it be! Mongolia! The Gobi Desert!

I first got interested in Mongolia when I had pet gerbils in 3rd grade and wrote a report on where they came from. And gers/yurts - way too cool. If any place in the world could be exotic, it would be Mongolia. Must go!

(Shared tent = ger [often called yurt here, but that's offensive] usually made of yak hides. Hm ... an odor minimizer in order here?)

a Maori Mexican

Does this guy look like his name would be Herrera? No. He doesn't at all, and it almost ruined Runaway Jury for me.

He's Maori. Which I didn't remember until I looked him up - Cliff Curtis.

And I'm glad that Maori actors aren't pidgeonholed into only Whale Rider and Once We Were Warriors (both very good movies), but I gotta ask - in a nation of 15% Latino, not one person could be found who actually looked like a Frank Herrera? Why couldn't Cliff Curtis be cast as a lawyer or guy who changes his name regularly - all major parts played by white guys. To make it even worse, they put on this makeup that made his complexion look grey. Ugh.

But I did like the movie - I'm such a sucker for moral triumphs. Go, team ethics - and way to kick evil Slav's ass, Rachel Weisz.

10 more Fridays.

I want to hear about law school - I want to know what my options are. I know, I applied less than a week ago - but surely they could admit me immediately?!

evaluated and survived

Straight proficients, that was my evaluation. Of course my first question (to myself) was, "Why not distinguished!?" Well, that's an easy question - first of all, as new to site he wouldn't rate anybody that. But more importantly - I'm the one counting the Fridays, the one trying to survive only. So, I need to take that unanimous proficient and let it be - I was even above the acceptable level. We did not argue, there are several things he really likes, and he said he was on my side about the Cesar Chavez holiday - and that's a big leap for him. He called me outgoing, friendly, and engaging, which makes me think that I waste the best parts of me and my energy on those delinquents. Well, at least they appreciate me usually. I know, I know - I gripe about my kids because sometimes it's so much - but they mostly all are really appreciative and fond of me.

I've been taking this class in the evenings called Pro-ACT, which is about handling assaultive situations. It's actually cool - clearly written by a Quaker (actually, it was, I'm not making that up). But I just about got assaultive today with a presenter when she kept insisting that our job is to teach our students to be assertive. I pointed out cultural variations, and how cultural discontinuity flows both ways. Just because *I* am assertive does not mean I should demand all kids act like me! Of course I want my kids to have opportunities to be how they want to be, but what on earth would give me the right to tell a very quiet, passive kid that they're wrong being that way?? Good grief!

Today we went out to dinner and these teachers were talking about not having politics in the classroom and I didn't argue, but I fundamentally disagree. Oh, I started off teaching like that, but now -my kids are touched by politics every single day, and if we don't have conversations about it then they are ill-equipped to deal with their realities.

Of course I have my own agendas. Two boys wanted to write about gay marriage and how it's wrong, and I said ok, but when I pushed them to give three reasons why they couldn't, and they chose on their own to pick different topics. A girl could give me reasons why it's fine, and she's writing it up. I think she might be bi. But it doesn't matter - my kids are growing up in a homophobic world, and I'll be damned if I'll let that go unquestioned. They do not have to agree with me, but they have to defend their points - either way.

Teaching and living is a political act, and to pretend it's not is not helpful to anybody. If I were in a school full of people more like me, then I would play devil's advocate more - but I'm the only person for some of these kids who is willing to march with them, to argue with them, to be frank with them.

Speaking of which, Aztec boy and I had a bad day a few days ago. He was getting snippety with the other kids and I did a smackdown on that - partially to save his behind from Spitfire's rage. "Why do you think you're so much better than everybody else?" I shouted as he stormed out (this was after class). (I do appreciate those people in my life who let me have the last word.)

And I had that ah-ha moment. Because he doesn't think that. He lives in foster care and he's an illegal immigrant. Everything in his life is unstable and he's overcompensating. Of course without a doubt he is my favorite kid and I'd adopt him in a heartbeat, and he knows it to some extent, but I'm careful about showing it to the others (partially because they get so stupid jealous - today it was "Are we your favorite class?" and "Can I be your favorite student today?"). But I can't take his insecurities personally - how he mocks Mexican-Americans, my Spanish, white people, other kids, etc. I've told him that my job is to help him think outside this little box of perception he has, and he shakes his head and says this funny, "Nooooo." And we joke and I call him "Alaskan-ist" for hating on me. But I am the adult and I need to not let his insecurities bug me. I'll keep using humor. I have high hopes for him. Who wasn't stupid when they were 16? I sure was. Not stupid like to condescend to, but ignorant of the world and really scared.

Of course we're back to fine now - we have that kind of relationship, where we have unpleasant arguments but we come back and move on. He will miss me, though he denies it and suggests we bet money on it.

Gangsta boy - who's been talking about his homies icing a cop in a nearby city as retaliation for them killing one of his gang members - gave me pizza today. It was storming outside so I let 'em all come in my classroom, and he opened up a full pizza box and first thing he did was offer me a piece, and then fought off the other kids until somebody brought it to me.

Now, pizza is nearly chocolate to me, and because his birthday is only one day off of mine he may well know that, but I like better what happened the day before. I pushed him hard, and I got him past this facade of cool that he portrays. And then I said, "I see that you're frustrated. Let me help you."

OK, I may seem like an evil bitch to do this - to take a kid to the brink of a meltdown in order to bring them back on my side - but sometimes I gotta do these mind games. Gangsta boy is not passing and he's not learning. He jumps through hoops but he doesn't get things because he doesn't listen or try. Without an intensive intervention he will drop out and pop cops until busted. I'm not exaggerating.

It's not that I'm cruel, but I withhold full attention until they deserve it. Until they want it. Until they beg.

And I'm not saying that Gangsta boy will be good for me forever now, or that I can get him out of the clutches of a really nasty gang, or that his future looks rosy.

But I have a better chance. And the cholo who used to give me shit, ever since I played mindgames with him, he's been a model student. Really outstanding. It converged with other things in his life and has worked out so far. I can see in his eyes how hard it is for him to behave, and he restrains.

Now if I could just get Spitfire to keep her mouth closed for more than 15 seconds at a time. She talks and talks and talks and talks - such a need for belonging, which manifests in starting fights with other kids. Sigh. At least she loves me - she just drives me crazy.

But hey, I'm proficient at all this shit.

fine

Guess who showed up in my classroom today, five months after I started teaching there?

Yup, Mr. Principal Man.

Without warning, I'm working with a kid at the computer and I get a tap on my shoulder. "I'm in here today." All righty then. Because of my political subversiveness? Oh yeah.

Here's what happened:
Most of the kids didn't do their homework. Those who did went immediately to the computers to start typing, the rest I got working on what they didn't do and then they caught up.

Every kid worked just about all hour - some were a little off-task for a few minutes, but overall about a 98% on-task rate. They asked questions, I helped, they helped each other. He asked for my grade book and lesson plan book - I printed them out for him.

OK, how could I seriously be doing anything better? Kids are writing about something they read.

We'll see. To his benefit, he did say, "Things went fine. See me tomorrow."

I won't see him tomorrow - I'm way too busy. But at least he'll finally hit me with his best shot. Recommend for rehire? Not that it matters, but I do want a good letter of rec from him.

audio clearness

A lovely BBC commentary about being Quaker here.

Clearness committees here. Ah, these poor Quakers. If I were to ask for a clearness committee for every single huge decision that I make, well, they wouldn't have time for anything else.

On the other hand, seeking clearness is what I always do with decisions. I used to whine so often to K2: "I just wish I could sense what is the right thing to do! I would do it, if just there would be some voice to tell me!" Gomez always just tells me: "Do what makes you happy," which, of course, completely misses the point.

I may seem impulsive, but I seek clearness first - or my friends sit through long anguishing festivals of indecision.

Quotes

On Quakers:
"For many Friends (especially the unprogrammed, "liberal" branch) it is not important that we all have similar beliefs. These Friends would say that is not one's beliefs that make one a Quaker. Rather, it is participation in Friends community, the deep search for Divine Guidance, and the attempt to live faithfully in harmony with that Guidance that make a person a Quaker."

Today, my principal:
"Why?!"
when I told him that my students would be writing letters to the school board about celebrating Cesar Chavez day in our district.

chocolate

Yeah, this is pretty much my life now. I used to post pictures of my boyfriend and his daughter - now I post pictures of Sweets Not Yet Eaten. Why all chocolate all the time? The answers are here. Let's just say, it's cheaper than heroin.

Is it coincidence that when I plan next year I look closely at the homeland of chocolate? Hm ... probably not.

Society of Friends

Yes, we all dress in those hats with wigs in order to be better Quakers.

I am, of course, being sarcastic. Eating oatmeal is the only requirement.

Being an "unprogrammed" meeting means there's no singing, no dancing, no service, no Bibles, no nothing. We sit silently in a room until the spirit moves somebody to speak. During the hour, two people spoke, each for less than a minute. Many birds were chirping so happily outside the windows.

The last time I attended church it was with Dayton in August - which would have been an interesting cultural observation except for the highly personal nature of it (that being my person, being persecuted).

So, quiet - that I like. No brimstone, no eternal damnation - ah, that is nice.

It is a bit Buddhist, since it is really meditation. I really miss the Sri Lankan Buddhist priest I met two summers ago in DC and the Vegas light show Buddha in his backroom. I only visited him there once, but I realize I have grown as a person who can meditate. I acknowledge the thoughts then they flit away.

The best part was a peaceful feeling - that everything will be all right. It sure doesn't feel like that now - I am so miserable about Dayton break-up. But it will be ok, there is no doubt. Not today, but someday.

It was a very small meeting - only 6 in attendance. There was discussion after about lobbying efforts, and I fit right in. Everybody was very nice and we were of one mind on most things - which is a lovely state of affairs considering where I teach and how of different minds we are there.

The thing that is hardest for me is how darn white the Quakers are as a group. I guess it may be time to just acknowledge that I, too, am white.

Just Shoot Me University

So, I got email back from a poli sci prof at JSMU. I asked about how normal it is that a prof have 17 advisees plus at least twice again that many committees and a new institute-thing and full teaching load while on sabbatical a third of each year. I said I didn't think it normal, and he said:
"I'll say. I have never heard of anything like that. This smells of mismanagement. Unless Ed. PhD's take very little work."

No, they most certainly do not. When I compare to other departments, definitely not.

And then when I mentioned my fears that I seem flaky because I can't stick around, this is why he will always be on the good list, he said:
"Well, I hope this isn't too distressing. If JSMU cannot serve you, you are probably doing the right thing. I don't worry about you in the long run, because you are very bright and also hard working. You will find something worthwhile!"

*********
Anyway, fun weekend, hanging out for Shirley's birthday! Stayed at Michele's, got my truck fixed, ate SO MUCH CHOCOLATE, and watched Brokeback Mountain (yes, very good).

Damn daylight saving time.

Happy birthday Shirley!

Last night was celebration with Shirley and the gang, which ended up with me baking an angel food cake and brownies at her house as well as eating strawberries with melted chocolate - and then Veronica doing the dishes after she had just said she was tired of being caretaker and she's filing for divorce.

Some sublimation happening? Oh yeah.