beauty crying out for more beauty

A great painting. or symphony, or play, doesn't diminish us, but enlarges us, and we, too, want to make our won cry of affirmation to the power of creation behind the universe. This surge of creativity has nothing to do with competition, or degree of talent. When I hear a superb pianist, I can't wait to get to my own piano, and I play about as well as I did when I was ten. A great novel. rather than discouraging me, simply makes me want to write. This response on the part of any artist is the need to make incarnate the new awareness we have been granted through the genius of someone else.

.... It is beauty crying out for more beauty. (Circle of Quiet 147)

definition of agape

Edward Nason West wrote that agape means "a profound concern for the welfare of another wihout any desire to control that other, to be thanked by that other, or to enjoy the process." (Circle of Quiet 159)

on success and failure

"The common idea that success spoils people by making them vain, egotistic and self-complacent is erroneous; on the contrary, it makes them, for the most part, humble, tolerant and kind. Failure makes people bitter and cruel." W. Somerset Maugham

tooth 19

Tooth 19 had a cavity; I got it filled at 2pm. My dentist kept talking about a hypothetical situation of a guy wearing my "festive shoes". The dental hygienist and I disturbed him by saying that without a doubt, somewhere in this world, there's a guy who wears silver metallic shoes with "jewels". When he was finished, he told me, "Don't bite your tongue." Thanks, man.

I was late because I lost track of time because I was enjoying my brunch with Marcia. It was so good to spend time with this lady. She's a role model of my high school's motto: function in disaster, finish in style, remain calm at the center of your being. She's so gracious and joyful and authentic; her faith is completely present and lived in. We chatted, chatted, chatted. She's an elixir. She buoyed my spirits. She patiently reminds me that there is more than one way to frame a situation. Perspective is key: God loves and wants what's best. Yay, friends. (And, I complain I have no kindred spirits in this neck of the woods.)

So, it's the New Year: time to evaluate, and take necessary actions. Under consideration: do I stay in my writing group? I'm leaning towards no (I can't see improvement in my writing-- if anything, it's deteriorating), but I enjoy the comraderie. I want to start a theological book club. I need to train for a race; do I get a personal trainer?

I need to find a job I like or find something redeemable in my job: it really looks as if I'm stuck in this death for another year (I just read Dylan Thomas wrote, "A job is death without dignity", which struck a cord: exactly). Things could be worse, I could be an amputee with this job.

Last week a friend asked me: How did your first semester go? I wrote: (It was) excruciating. She responded: I hope you mean painful, but a blessing to others. Her comment set my thoughts reeling.

I am learning a lot: I'm a dreadful communicator-- I just expect people to know my expectations. I'm also learning a lot about myself and people in general in dealing with my students. For instance, I use a more complex form of their "My pencil got lost" logic. But to answer her question, I do think I'm impacting some of my students. And, one of the custodians calls me the little sister he's always wanted. And, my observations are 90-95% positive. It's just that I feel lied to and taken advantage of (The whole writing assessment extra 130 hours of uncompensated work, the being told I'd get paid on my master's and that I'd have 21 students in a class, etc). I told D and M, "I use none of my strengths; it's to the point I question if I have any strengths."

And, do I start a dating campaign: a romance blitz. I'm not a Disney princess with a Prince Charming waiting in the wings. I really need to find a church. Maybe Lutheran; I've been so concentrated on Anglican that this high-church option slipped my mind.

notes

I need to write several notes that I've been avoiding. I need to write thank you notes for presents that were insults. My mother and sister suggested effusive thanks as the solution for this connundrum. This is my brain storm: "That is the nicest p.o.s. I have ever seen! I have no idea how I ever lived without it until this point! Thank you for rectifying that egregious wrong! I am so lucky to have a friend like you! Forever grateful, XOXO" Wow, how southern would that be? Awesome. Bless their hearts.

On a more sober note, a friend's parent committed suicide last week. I wrote her a brief note when I received her message, but I know something more substantive is necessary. She's getting married in the spring, and she's an awesome, uber-talented, super-bright human being. The kind of person that I swing between being jealous and in awe she's friends with me. I guess, I should write a letter of friendship and respect. We, humans, are such a hurting and hurtful bunch. Is there a poem that would suit the situation? There's always Auden's "Funeral Blues". Maybe, a Emily Dickinson-- it'd be cool and kind of a joke too. (If you'd gone to my high school-- you'd be laughing right now.) Would it be incredibly gauche to send her a paint by number picture to do? Maybe Van Gogh's Sunflowers or something? It would be something kind of fun... or am I completely off the mark?

And, I need to write a letter of apology. Hopefully, I'll get to say it in person, but it'll be cathartic to write it out, and will help to deliver the message. I'm already losing my nerve. I need to plan if it goes well... or poorly. I don't want to show emotion. I want to be my most rational. We shall see.

Ah, I'd be content (for at least a day) if I were able to communicate my thoughts and feelings accurately to my friends. No, not the great American novel, but a well-written, well-intentioned note. Perhaps, I should forego the sarcasm on the thank yous.

home?

"All these people were still living by faith when they died. They did not receive the things promised; they only saw them and welcomed them from a distance. And they admitted that they were aliens and strangers on earth. People who say such things show that they are looking for a country of their own. If they had been thinking of the country they had left, they would have had opportunity to return. Instead they were longing for a better country-- a heavenly one. Therefore God is not ashamed to be called their God, for he has prepared a city for them. (Hebrews 11:13-16)

These verses are fierce, raw and haunting. The words paint a stark picture... a beautiful, intense picture. They remind me of Puritan theology: John Owen wrote: "God breaks every heart differently." Or more recently, Flannery O'Connor wrote, "The truth will make you odd." This picture of faith I can believe: there's nothing about being nice or comfortable. There's nothing about being happy or satisfied. This is a picture of people who saw and worshipped a big, good God. It's a rendering of the parable of the pearl of great worth. It's the recognition of the weight of glory-- true reality. It's just that the shadows seem much easier and more real most of the time.

This longing, this ache, this yearning is very present in some of the books I'm reading. It's as CSL wrote: "We read in order to know we're not alone." I feel it as I search for a church, a job and friends. It's scary that I might not find any of them, but it's encouraging that the long loneliness has value. Biblical and lived theology are so messy, which is good... but messy.

a hungarian viszla named harriet

I've developed a bad case of dog fever for Hungarian Viszla, the wiki entry on HVs. Originally, I had a case of Rhodesian Ridgeback fever, but it mutated to Viszla fever when I discovered them. Hungarian Viszlas are sensitive, mid-sized dogs with no under fur and they only bark when provoked.

My mother and brother asked me several important questions about my new devotion: what would I name her? Harriet. Why not a Rhodesian Ridgeback? Because HVs are midsized and the whole bark aspect. Where would I keep it? Indoors. When would I walk it? At night and in the morning. How would I afford it? IDK.

Owning Harriet is about as far off in the distance as owning a house, having a job I like or getting published. Some naysayers might call it a pipe dream, but I will meet Harriet. I will.

the curious case of benjamin button

Hollywood can take a fascinating story and mash it up until it becomes a romantic comedy. Voila, the Curious Case of Benjamin Button. It's a cute, feel-good movie: love at first sight that blossoms into true, eternal love. It's entertaining, but the cinematic version lacks both internal and external logic. The make up work was phenomenal: Cate Blanchett and Brad Pitt looked old (and young). The movie was also had acceptable racism: white people are evil and materialistic and black people have soul and substance. (The one statement of race in the short story was that something along the lines that Mr. Button wished that his son were born black, which is a far stretch from the movie. Benjamin is raised by his family.) There was a lightning joke that ran throughout the movie that felt out of place (and cheap) each time. Yet, the movie maintains an American optimism throughout, which is something quite different from Christian hope. The movie is cute but lacks depth and any statement beyond the Hollywood status quo.

When I got home last night, I looked up the short story on which the movie was based, "Curious Case of Benjamin Button" by F Scott Fitzgerald. I liked the story far more than the movie. It was more edgy and substantative. Benjamin Button grows tired of the woman with whom he falls in love. The characters are more peevish, fickle and believable; and, there's the societal aspect that Fitzgerald nails better than historian; Button attempts to go to Yale, giving birth in a hospital. The short story makes sense: Benjamin is a huge baby who talks-- it's incredibly surreal but has an internal logic. But, the movie doesn't leave with that Hollywood euphoria: everybody's is beautiful, life is beautiful; ergo, I'm happy. Fitzgerald's story (on my first reading) appears to be addressing our general distaste for aberration of any kind; it's uncomfortable and forces us to change (and we resist and the abnormal people fall to the way side). Whereas, the movie seems to be about an unrealistic true love that beats all the odds.

drawn into mystery

On Tuesday night, my monk prayed that we would be "drawn into the mystery of Christmas." He's reading a book on the incarnation and delving into it. I'd envisioned a more spiritual, transcendental experience as the answer to the prayer. But, it was earthy... very earthy, which lacks any irony considering the incarnation. I fight the Word made flesh as a concept and in my everyday life. The mystery of Christmas struck me in several ways.

I was given the task of the family toast in which I made an obvious connection. While I was brainstorming about "family" and my family, the geneology of Jesus popped into my head. 14 generations to David, 14 generations to the exile, 14 generations to Christ were choreographed by God. They didn't know what would become of their bloodline. Jesus was born into a Story, and as I walked, I realized that we are too. Family is such an amazing, awesome and humbling thing. We are intimately connected to people that we didn't choose; they were chosen for us. It reminded me of the scene in A Wrinkle in Time:
Mrs. Whatsit compares life to a sonnet:

"Calvin: You mean you’re comparing our lives to a sonnet? A strict form, but freedom within it?

Yes. You’re given the form, but you have to write the sonnet yourself. What you say is completely up to you."

Another connection along the same lines (strict rhythm or meter) came through looking at family traits. There are the obvious ones: our coloring, our build, our height. With cousins, it's cool to see how genetics play out... how our dad's affected our moms' gene pool. There's also the personality factors: the first borns of both generations have a lot in common, we're all too sensitive, etc., we all like to laugh and willing to act the fool. But, my observations of my genetic traits intertwined with the sermon I heard last night about our only hope being Jesus, specifically, Jesus who lives in and is transforming us. Perhaps, the fruits of the Spirit are analgous to genetic traits in us. The mystery is an invitation to live in a story so much bigger than I am-- to look at life as gift and all my genetic limitations as a canvas for Jesus to manifest himself in my life. It's the freedom to live a hobbit's life concrete and cheery.

The mystery of the why of Christmas is what I found most gripping. My very American why that pops up regularly. Technically, Jesus granted salvation to people before his death on the cross. Jesus afterall is Life. But it was supplanted by awe. Afterall, it is mystery. Most of the time I'm so wrapped up in the gifts (either fascinated or disgruntled), that they eclipse the Giver. The ecology/economy/architecture of God's heart was written into history with the birth of Christ through Mary. And the mystery happens every day through me even though I resist it and feel it an inconvenience and violation of freedom.

zappos.com

I own three pair of Dansko shoes: 2 clogs and 1 heel (Roxy). While I was hanging out with a shoe-store friend, I realized that Dansko makes boots. That rocked my world. I've been looking for a black boot for a while (about 2 years); it's a lot of work to find a tall boot that fits my calf, ankle and foot. Then, there's the comfort factor and the style factor. Comfort is a necessity and with style I wanted classic. I don't want elf shoes or round toes. I want boots I can wear for ten years or more.

After discovering the Dansko boots (Risa), I knew what I wanted, but it was out of my price range. Then came Christmas, and my mother's need to buy me the perfect Christmas present. Voila! (Jackie, this isn't some Wal-Mart crap I'll throw away in a year.) And, I went on zappos.com, which I found out about in Runner's World. I ordered the boots Saturday afternoon, and they arrived Monday morning. This was with free shipping. I'm most pleased. I recommend Zappos.com. The boots were even discounted about twenty percent.

rumpus, rowdy reads

At the top of my TDL was: read books. I'm a master of detail if nothing. After finishing other tasks, I settled into this one. The finishing of books I've set sail into. These books are jewels. I'm going to have to revamp my whole theology reading group idea. These puppies are fabulous. Why did no one bother to tell me how hilarious GK Chesterton. With a title "Orthodoxy", who would have guessed the jovial humor? I'm laughing out loud with the old fart. Near the end of his introduction he writes, "But there is in everything a reasonable division of labour. I have written the book, and nothing on earth would induce me to read it." I have felt that about more than one paper I've turned in. You can’t help but like the fat, silly old man. He is the odd bird who is brilliant and fails to take himself seriously. He eradicates all my normal barriers.

I also frollicked through a couple of chapters in Alan Jacobs' "The Narnian: The Life and Imagination of C.S. Lewis". It is highly entertaining and interesting. It’s the kind of biography I enjoy, weaving together the social and intellectual history that provides the person his context. Lewis’ mother had a logic degree from Trinity. As a four-year-old, he gave himself the nickname, “Jacksie”. (I’ve always wondered how Clive got translated into Jack; you can’t blame the kid.) He soon announced, “I have a prejudice against the French.” When his parents asked him why, he answered, “If I knew why, it wouldn’t be a prejudice.” These anecdotes are on the first page of the first chapter. It’s an engaging read.

I read L’Engle’s “A Circle of Quiet” last night during an spell of nocturnal wakefulness around 2a.m. It’s a satisfying, poetic, meditative read. Her writing about writing is integrated into her thoughts on life: parenting, spousing, daughtering, neighboring, churchmembering, et al. The book has integrity, which I find a lot of books on writing lack. What one writes is linked to what one lives. Her passages on the links between real and imagination are fabulous.

I’m also finishing up “Teacher Man” and Alan Jacobs’ “A Theology of Reading: The Hermeneutics of Love.” A queue is already growing of more books. Four at a time is my new limit.

I recommend all these books

they were the best of times...

I had two doctors appointments today, but it gets worse. They were GYN and dental appointments. That's right, folks. I had the privilege of having blood drawn, a pap smear, dental xrays and cleaning all in one day. I'm firing the chief as my PA-- that was a doozy (plus the gyn visit took 2.5 hours). I'll find out the smear results within two weeks, but everything else is "very normal". I have to go back to the dentist for a filling next week, and I need to make an appointment with a dermatologists for two concerns I have. My biggest cancer risk is melanoma because I'm so fair. So, I feel as if I need to get screened for that. My sister, my mom and my grandmother are all red heads... to give you a picture of how lily white my gene pool is.

Plus, I was melancholic and heartsore all day. I had Holly Golightly's "mean reds". This day climaxed with me telling my sister, "I hate my life." There was no exclamation mark; it was merely a statement. Since I couldn't make headway in redirecting "my life" this afternoon, I went to work out at the gym. And, I made a mental list of things I need to do for closure and for commencement. So, tonight I shall journal and read. There are so many good books I've started, I plan to get through at least two during this break.

Having my extremely Type A sister around transformed the low point into a turning point. She never asks me how I feel, but what I'm going to do about it. I need the action oriented in my life.

blah, blah, blah

I hope you didn't die from holding your breath for the details from my field trip Friday. Relief: it went A-Okay. The highlight was my brother coming as a chaperone. Several of the girls came up to me to tell me how good lookin' he is. One even said, "You and your brother look nothing alike. Your brother's really cute." Thanks, dude, remember who assigns grades. The two questions that they asked him about me were how old I am and how old is my car. I think it's hilarious that they care about either. They are more fascinated about what my favorite flavor of ice cream is over writing an essay or anything important. My brother even managed to stay awake for the movie unlike my team teacher. I turned around to quell the ruckus in the row behind me. Then, I discovered it was due to my fellow teacher sleeping with her mouth open. I shushed the girls, but didn't call them down (it was funny). I get miffed at her for things like that... we're supposed to be role models. I find such behavior the antithesis of professional.

My brother's observations after watching Tale of Despereaux were 1) what's up with Despereaux's WWI era flight hat and 2) the vegetable guy was really cool. I recognized the Princess' voice but couldn't place it. It's the actor who plays Hermione in the Harry Potters.

After picking my sister at the airport, I ate Kung Pao spaghetti and headed over to my uncle's to watch the Panthers game. We had an amazing time from "helping" my aunt with her eHarmony profile (she was a really good sport as we poked fun at her for thirty minutes)... she was also tipsy. I found out that I have a webkin named after me: it's a tiger. Grr, baby.

After whining about my job to my cousin, he said, "Join the military." We chatted about that. But, that's a real possibility. The pay would be better. PT would be part of the job. I don't think it could be any worse than what I'm doing now. I could even see if I could enter as Chaplain. I could get stationed somewhere really amazing (and still have Americans around me). I need to look into this. Public Education is not going to be my career path. I don't know if this is just a flash in the pan, but this job is just an the extended version of a excruciating suicide. I need to finish this year strong; and, I need an exit plan. This is not for me. I could do four years of army then a JD or PhD. Or, something along those lines. And, I need to get out of this geographical area. I don't have any friends that I see more than once a week. My soul needs more than that. And, I need a place where there's at least the potential of finding a guy interesting to date. So, my conversation with my cousin has got the hamster on the wheel.

christmas vacation

Survival of the fittest. I wasn't sure I'd make it to Christmas. Today was my first field trip after I met with the assistant principal to discuss my second official observation. This week has been incredibly long and fast, which seems like it should be an oxymoron. I'm exhausted. Depleted. I feel like a video game avatar who has one energy bar left. It's a dire situation; my throat is even scratchy. I plan to chillax all day tomorrow. ("Chillax", for those who don't teach 7th graders, is the combination of "chill" and "relax". It's usually used as a command in response to somebody losing their cool (don't ask how I found out this usage, okay?).) I'm ready for a break.

I'm not sure I'm ready to celebrate Baby Jesus' birthday yet. It doesn't "feel" like Christmas at all. Maybe I need to invest in some eggnog and candy canes. I listened to Philippians and James; perhaps, I should listen to deutero-Isaiah and the Christmas stories tucked away in all the different places.

lunch

I ate chocolate covered pretzels for lunch. And, I wonder why I'm a little low on pep and having insommnia attacks.

"The Gift of the Magi"

Tomorrow we're going to read "The Gift of the Magi". It's one of my favorite O'Henry short stories. I can't wait to share it with my little whipper snappers. I'm going to read it outloud because some the vocabulary is archaic. Maybe a couple of the romantics will like it.

I'll tell them the story is my Christmas present to them. They'll huff and puff, but maybe they'll understand in the future.

Encouragement

Roughly a third of the essays the substitute handed me back were good. I taught problem solution essays on Monday. Then, I had them go out on their own yesterday. Here are my two favorite. The prompt was "Santa has lost his reindeer. Come up with a solution for him to be able to deliver all the gifts and write him a letter."

Dear Santa,

I heard you lost all of the reindeer. That takes a lot of talent. Anyway, I’m guessing you want help? Okay, I have a plan: look into the last place you saw them. Then, look for signs as to where they went like hoof prints. But, if you still can’t find them, then there’s only one way to solve your problem: fly in a plane or helicopter.

I know it’s not the usual but it’s faster, and it isn’t as if you have a choice. Besides it’s better than having to stop every few hours or so to feed the reindeer. Also, it wouldn’t be as noticeable. For example, if a person looked up at the sky Christmas Eve and saw a plane, she would think, “Hey, that’s not crazy or anything; it’s just a plane.” But, if a person looked up and saw eight flying reindeer they would be like: “Oh my Gosh! I’ve gone mad!” So, flying in a plane or helicopter has its advantages.

Alright, I admit the change in transportation may have some drawbacks as well. How would you land a plane on top of a house? Well, you could land at an airport, get in a car and go to every house. But, I suggest you use a helicopter. It’s a bit smaller, but still has room for all those presents. And you can land on a small building, maybe, such as an apartment building.

Good luck, Santa! And, I hope my solution helps. If not, I hope you find your reindeer in time for next year!

Cordially,
The Pragmatist


Dear Santa,

I heard about the shortage of reindeer and all this happened because you need to be more careful! You lost your reindeer—not me or anybody else. YOU lost them. That’s not the only reason I’m writing you. I also want to offer a solution that will help in several ways.

You know you’re supposed to be magical. Well, this is going to take a lot of magic. My solution is simple. All you have to do is freeze time and go find your reindeer. And, if you don’t find them, the world will never count on you again because you weren’t able to deliver presents to their homes.

The advantages of my solution are many. If you freeze time, nobody can see you looking for your reindeer so nobody would suspect anything. Another big advantage is that if you freeze time your reindeer can’t move or run away from where they are, which will make finding them much easier.

The only possible opposition is if your magic didn’t work on the reindeer and they ran away. Then, it would be really bad because they would probably be in shock or confused from the fall and wouldn’t recognize you and attack you. But, I doubt that will happen. If your magic is strong enough to make reindeer fly, then surely you can make time stand still.

In conclusion, you lost all your reindeer and are in a big predicament because the whole world is waiting on you to bring them gifts. The reason my solution is that it’s practically your only choice anyway. I wish you good luck this Christmas, and I hope you have a happy New Year!

Sincerely,
The Moralist

with (lemon) zest

Today was a lemon-fresh downward spiral. All grade-level teachers trained for the writing assessment all day (and we still have more to go). It's fairly interesting-- lots of articles. Enough articles that there was conflicting data, which makes me happy. I'm the only person who noticed the conflict. I don't know if that shows that I'm the only one who read the articles or that I'm a natural contrarian. Either way, I was ready to gouge my eyes with a toothpick by the end of the session. I'd go into more detail but that would be whining.

What was this lemon fresh that you mentioned? Well, after getting some more craptastic news from the State in my box, I left school. I cried myself all the way home just like the olden days of August and September. I prayed some laments. I asked God for "just one thing to go right" or something like that. ( I pray it with some frequency, which is a different entry.) But after the annoying day topped with bad news, I got a call during dinner from a number I didn't recognize. They left a message, so I asked my companion if it were alright to check it. Turns out that it was lady I dogsit for, and she needs a dog sitter from Dec 26-Jan 4th. I'm very excited: the dogs are cute, the house is nice, the pay is good. It'll be like a paid getaway... with dogs. That's lemon fresh.

P.S. A friend hooked me up with the latest Tracy Chapman CD, which was today's soundtrack. It's witty and mellow.

umm... yeah... so

If I were a motivational speaker, today I would have had projectiles lobbed at me. Instead, I tanked my observation and heard the grumbles of disgruntled middle schoolers. Granted, I chose to teach something I'd never tried to before. I had my students in a new seating arrangement. It was a Monday morning. I crashed and burned. And, if that weren't horrific enough, I resorted to ultimatum of threatening to cancel the field trip Friday. It was a day filled of proud, memorable moments.

Oh, that angered the pre-adolescents: "Nobody likes you." When they pull that, I just tell them that doesn't work on me because I'm not a seventh grader.

And, I get frustrated with how long it takes them to complete tasks. I always add five minutes to how long I project the task will take. And, I'm amazed. They don't understand you don't get extra time because you came to class unprepared. I am so not an elementary school teacher.

All this venting aside, I think some of my sprouts learned some stuff. We started and finished our first problem-solution essay. I think it went pretty well. I always forget that I should do the majority of the talking the first go. The proof will be in the pudding tomorrow.

And, I had a good time with my family tonight before I took a walk and wrote a test. We really tanked at Jeopardy! tonight. My brother loathes the Canadian with the answer cards as much as I do, which makes the loathing even more enjoyable.

mapped out

I've plotted out my teaching plans for the week. Friday is a field trip: yay for Despereaux! The movie looks as if it is loosely, loosely based on the amazing book. Tuesday we're training for the writing assessment through a moodle put out by DPI. Wednesday I must test them on the poem I'm having them memorize. Thursday I'm having a writing exercise and a research treasure hunt in the library? I want them to have fun, but I don't want to lose instructional time. And, I have no idea why I'm fixated on them learning the parts of speech, but I'm determined my students will come out of 7th grade able to recognize a noun, verb, pronoun, adjective, adverb, and conjunction. Prepositions and interjections... I'll set free. But, I think they'll latch onto those ideas too. Why are we teaching essays when my kids don't know the parts of a sentence?

We're studying West Africa in Social Studies-- we should get through the physical and history quite quickly. I want to spend time on slave trade and kente cloth. My kids are digging social studies. I need to go by Mary Joe's and get some different cloths.

Don't be jealous of my exciting life.

benedictine brunch with a twist

I worshipped at the Abbey again today. We sang a Charles Wesley hymn; both sides of the aisle would be shocked at the similarities in worship: the Lord's Prayer, Prayer of Confession, the Nicene Creed, Prayer of the People, the hymns. We dicker in periphery not core issues.

I love my spiritual director; perhaps, I'm too comfortable with him. I admit to things that I shouldn't think let alone say. But, this makes talking with him helpful. Somehow the uncensored nature about my thought process allows me to talk about my spiritual life in a way that fills natural. It's easy to discuss with him my prayer life or lack there of. Am I doing devotions? I've answered all these questions bluntly.

We chatted about the sermon and service. He also told me that Sunday lunch was actually breakfast food. He explained to me the concept of brunch as if I would have difficulty grasping it; I am blonde. I felt my internal anthropologist turn on. It was fascinating to watch what the monks ate and their decision process. I teased one monk about his intricate "pancake ceremony". He chuckled and told me that it was important how one applied the condiments. It felt similar to visiting somebody at their house. As we ate, we chatted about his family, whom I feel as if I know. I told him about yesterday but left out the bucketloads of angst it filled me with.

I left the angst out because we were sitting at a table with the Abbott and his guest. I think my monk and the abbott had plotted to set the other guest and me up. Monks are such little old ladies sometimes. The guy was very polite and solemn. Apparently, he didn't approve of laughing on Rejoice Sunday. I'll talk to my Brother the next session about this shennanigan of his.

I gave him his Christmas present, which I think he'll enjoy thoroughly. We shall see.

excruciatingly odd

Today was an excruciatingly odd day filled with the mundane and earth-shattering. I handled both with nil grace. I woke up to some pre-international flight drama via my sister. We survived the drama and took her to the airport for her trip to Nicarauga. We came home and I schooled i-tunes in some undisclosed way. We then headed off to a family brunch. The food was inconsequential, but the news was stupendous. My cousin's wife is pregnant. (My cousin who got married in May.) He's also not going to be deployed to Iraq due to the new three-year withdrawal plan.

The Chief and I then shopped at independent lighting and hardware stores for a reading lamp for my bedroom's new chair. The floor lamp I purchased yesterday left the Chief nunplussed. It was too cheap and sans style. Her accusations were accurate, but after spending hours on the quest, we gave up. As we drove to the second store, I realized a large part of my annoyance stemmed from me being fine with my lamp and being drug through this process. I ended up getting a free coffee because they'd run out at the shop. I sat outside in the sun, nibbling on a pastry and nursing the fresh coffee. The vitamin D and caffeine did me some good. I ended the shopping trip with buying the perfect Christmas present for my hall's custodian.

I think today pained me because it awoke the angst of singleness I'm so good at avoiding (that's too strong a word choice; it's more a non-issue). At the brunch, my cousin said to me that maybe his foray into marriage and parenting might encourage us lolly-gaggers. I just sat there because how do I explain that I would love to be married and a mom if I met the right guy. These aspirations are becoming less and less feasible, but strangely that doesn't make me willing to settle for any guy who demonstrates interest. And, this ache compounded with my sister's many successes and adventures. She's making the most of her singleness travelling internationally and making a six-figure salary. But, me, I teach reluctant ingrates and write a blog nobody reads. Yet, the sunsets and brisk afternoons are still mine to enjoy. It is good to be reminded that from dust I was made and to dust I shall return. Psalms are for days like today. Somehow shopping for lighting and finding none was the most apropos way to have spent my afternoon. C'est la vie.

rainbow and unusually large orbs

On my way to work, the moon was obscenely large and low. 'Twas arresting. Leaving work, I witnessed a rainbow extremely pale but wide; it was almost vertical with little curvature. It was lovely. On my way home, the sun was also unusually large. You know, big. The kind of big that requires a double take. Making you question the physics of the situation. It was impossible to take these gorgeous things for granted... today.

Sometimes, I wallow in the mire of the quotidian nature of life. Mundanities galore. But, then I discover the sun, a rainbow and the moon, and I desire to be awake in the fullest since of the word.

sneakfest

Thanks to Christmas, I have evening activities scheduled for every night this week... obligatory parties and such. It'd be far more fun if they were spread out over the year. Then again, it'd be kind of weird to have a Christmas party in March. But, I'd go for it. It's Mad Hatter chic. Very merry unbirthday.

All this whining to say, I'm playing hookie. Woohoo! Feels good and helps me relate to my students.

Furthermore, the principal sent an edict yesterday that we have to vacate the building by 5p.m (4:45 to be exact). Terrible news, friends. I have so much work, one of the copiers is broken and the kids are going ballistic because it's so near the holidays. I've been avoiding bringing work home, but not anymore. Bring it on. And the Christmas parade was cancelled so we have a full day; I'm looking forward to placating all the happy campers tomorrow. "Do we have to do work?"

Forget smart boards, I finally got white boards. I'm busy rearranging my classroom to accommodate this! I now must go to Office Depot and spend some money. Afterall, it's Wednesday and I haven't spent fifty dollars on my class yet. Something's wrong.

move over, obama

I am the new anti-christ. My writing prompt proved controversial once again. I aim for "cute and entertaining" and end up with "shocking". My journal entry was "How would Christmas be different if it were celebrated on July 25th?" A devout Baptist raised her hand, "But Jesus only had one birthday. It can't be another day. I don't know what church you go to, but we would never say anything like that at ___________ Baptist Church."

I said, "Nowhere in the Bible does it say that Jesus was born on December 25th. It says he was born during a census in the time of Herod...blah, blah, blah."

She muttered, "I have no idea what church you go to. I'll bring my Bible and show you Baby Jesus was born on December 25."

I need to learn how to tread gently and honestly between the theology I hold and the one they do. Over at Table four, they embraced my question. One boy said, "Santa would ride a Harley instead of a sleigh... and he'd have a hot chick riding behind him." And another piped in with "He'd wear a bathing suit." This comment was greeted with a lot of "gross" and "yuck" comments. Then we started talking about there would be shorter lines of parents getting their childrens picture with Santa if he were in trunks. We chatted about Christmas hot dogs and hamburgers instead of ham and turkey. It was fun.

I would love to get into the take over of reinventing Saturnalia and how Xtnty has a way of baptizing preexisting symbols and holidays. But, I'm afraid that it would be taken the wrong way.

Oh, I got to spend my planning in professional learning: 2007 powerpoint and excel. It was really cooly, but I had so much work to do. Then, tonight I had to go to another work party. It was pleasant, but stressful because of all the stuff I need to be doing. I am a Grinch!

I wonder if my kids are learning anything. Which leads into the question of significance I chatted on the phone about with a kindred spirit. She's a book friend; we adore the same books and authors. When we hang out, it's as if Jack Lewis, Larry and Wendell are there drinking coffee thinking too. Where is God in "all of this" both micro and macro speaking. We trust He's there, but it's just we'd like to understand a more fully. But, to dissect something requires it to be dead. That's the problem with studying theology in lieu of living it.

Tis the Season... A Parts of Speech Jingle

The 8 Parts of Speech Poem


Every name is called a noun
As field and fountain, street and town;

In place of noun the pronoun stands,
As he and she can clap their hands;

The adjective describes a thing,
As magic wand or bridal ring;

The verb means action, something done –
To read and write, to jump and run;

How things are done the adverbs tell,
As quickly, slowly, badly, well;

The preposition shows relation,
As in the street or at the station;

Conjunctions join, in many ways,
Sentences, words, or phrase and phrase;

The interjection cries out, Hark!
I need an exclamation mark.

Maybe this mnemonic device will help my kids nail this concept. The chief keeps reminding me that language is very abstract and hard to grasp.

belle of the ball

My faculty Christmas party happened last night. We met at a locally owned steak house and proceeded to gorge ourselves. The chief arrived stylishly late because I was tempted not to go. But when I arrived home and the Chief yelled, "I'm out of the shower," and I knew we'd be going.

I crawled into my bed with my clothes on and slept for twenty-thirty minutes. (There had been two wrecks on the way home, I'd stayed at school to check kid's IQs, grade, write a test and watch one of my boys wrestle.) Then, I got up and rubbed the smudges of mascara out from under my eyes, went downstairs, and said, "Let's go." The chief scurried up the stairs and put on her outfit and changed out her workhorse purse to her fancier pocket book (her Brahmin not her Ferragamo).

When we arrived at the place, the Chief made quite an impression on everybody. The Chief was on Sparkle mode. That's what my sister and I refer to her playing at the height of her game. The chief sparkled: she unruffled all the feathers I flustered, she carried the conversation at the table while looking exquisite. Everyone came up to tell me how beautiful my mother is. Everytime I responded with "You don't have to sound so surprised!" She did look lovely, sophisticated, and an understated festive. She more than made up for my slept-in look and I'm-exhausted mood. She earned her filet mignon. I was very proud of her.

bad move, good move

I shopped for Christmas gifts today. My motivation this morning ran along these lines: "it's only going to get worse." I'm not sure what the "it" is, but that was my pessimistic beginning. I drove to Charlotte and treated myself to "a healthy lunch". Then, I strolled over to the new Barnes & Noble. This was a bad move because I spent over an hour tooling around buying books mostly for my students and me. Books are my downfall; if I ever do a budget cut-- the books get nixed. I'm a moth and the rows of literature, kid lit and theology are the flames of my ruin. I was supposed to be shopping for other people for Christmas not looking for nifty reading comprehension exercises and (oohooh) what Peterson and L'Engle they had. But, I started a theme gift for my aunt that I continued throughout the day. I also found a present for my spiritual director.

I was tempted to leave the mall right after walking into it. I found all the stuff, the people, the bright lights, and the chirpy music revolting. Good move: I soldiered through the urge to vacate. It's hard to shop for clothes when you're buying for yourself; it's even harder when you're buying for somebody else. But, I found groovy gifts for my siblings. And, I found a top and pants for my professional life. My size was a little snug; this isn't a convenient time for sizes to be feeling snug. Clothes snug is different than boyfriend snuggle; in some circles, they're mutually exclusive. I started getting depressed then I realized that this something that I have control over. It's difficult to exercise and eat well with my work schedule, but I can make health a priority. I can be conscious of what I'm stuffing into my mouth so that I want look like a stuffed sausage in my outfits.

yippee

I got another email from the university department head I've been communicating with for over a year now. It looks as if I'm closest to an adjunct position as I've ever been! Woohoo. I'm still a long way from a contract, but it's nice to start discussing details. Nights of the week. One night a week for the summer or a two night a week gang-busters course. Syllabus. Et cetera. This job would be a very cool summer gig-- I'd be teaching stuff I love and "classroom management" won't be so insane! I hadn't heard from the lady in a while, so I was starting to right off the chance. But, wouldn't this be fun!

unexpected

Today's Language Art journal topic was "Describe how your family decorates for Christmas (Christmas tree, stockings, colored or clear lights, etc.)."

A girl raises her hand and asks, "Indoor or outdoor?"

I paused to consider the question. I answered, "Either or both." (That kind of answer gives insight into why I teach language instead of math. Messy is good. Messy is real.)

Several of my kids really got into the topic: I heard color schemes and description of the emotional states of the various reindeer. Nativity vs. Santa Claus? They lit up as they discussed the themes their families incorporated in their decorating. This odd conversation reminded me how endearing my students are and how charming and unique my county is.

palindrome this

Once upon a time clairvoyants used bird guts. Nowadays, I use restaurant bills. My dinner ended in a palindrome: 23.32. Coincidence? Surely not. It's bound to be some significance to that lovely number. The Chief was explaining the palindrome to our waitress who was trying not to look bored. Such signs are for those who have eyes to see... the nerds, the geeks, the odd, the freaks. It is I, Lord.

My day slid by at a remarkable pace; I was a busy bee. The faculty meeting got cancelled, which made my day. It doesn't take much, folks, just numerical palindromes and cancelled meetings. Some people need true love and obscene salaries. Me, not so much.

I should have exercised tonight, instead I curled up with Peterson's "Eat This Book." It is fabulous. Next, I need to finish up my homework for my small group; it's not like I had two weeks to complete the task. Procrastination is a nasty, nasty addiction/habit.

ta-da

It turns out that I was dreading returning to school for no reason. I haven't been bitten or even yelled at yet. Granted, I've worked two 11.5 hour days, 23 hours, which would punt most people into Wednesday afternoon. But, not me. I'm staring Tuesday night in the eyeballs. Interims go out on Thursday; so, I have been wading through all the tall paper-clipped stacks of paper on, under and around my desk. The collected, alphabetized, graded, entered, and maybe piles. And, then there are a lot of random, I have no idea what this is piles. My room is an arson's dream and a neat-freak's nightmare.

My brilliant lesson plan went splendidly in my first class and TANKED in my second class. It was dire, but I was at the point of no return: all the supplies were out. My second class were cutting the glue sticks with the scissors. Um, pay attention and do what you're supposed to do. "Ms. M, this is so hard!" "I can't do this!" In parenthesis: I think I'll launch paper at my classmates instead... or chase Joseph with scissors... or start singing. Seriously, some of my kids avoid thinking at all costs. Point of pride: I only yelled once during the entire fiasco, but served an ample dish of sarcasm. Sarcasm isn't helpful when dealing with seventh graders.

And, I'm having to meet with a lot of parents to sign students' personalized plans because they made poor scores on the state standardized test. Needless to say, that means a lot of paperwork and meetings for the lowly teacher. Their performance in last year's class creates a lot of hassle for me.

This is all to say, when I picked up my book to read, I was too wasted to concentrate. So, I thought I'd blog instead! And, three cheers for yummy yet inexpensive shiraz!!!

I woke up at 3:30am this morning and couldn't fall back to sleep. When I told my mom, she offered to make me a doctor's appointment. This year, I've been having little trouble falling asleep but waking up in the middle of the night wide-awake. I wonder what the difference is: stress, age, etc?

wrapping up

There's always a thud at the end of a vacation. Thud, reality. The copious amounts of comfort food, family, friends, down time, sleeping in, phone calls with friends in snowy places, curling up with a book or journal, football, basketball and movies must draw to a close. I must mint the fresh, warm, hilarious memories to keep me cozy through the mad dash to Christmas.

And the Xmas '08 mix to keep me cheery. I finally set my American account up on itunes. Apple can be real punks with their hyper international regulation. This ole computer has kept me company in Canada, Japan and the US, and the only people who care other than me are the uptight Apple legal gurus. But, I put all my favorite Christmas tunes (BNL's "God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen", U2's "Christmas (Baby, please come home)", Adam Sandler's "Chanukuh Song") plus some really good ones (DMB's "Christmas Song", Dean Martin's "Baby, It's Cold Outside", etc.). And, I found Sinead O'Connor's version of "Silent Night". So, I'm a little excited about it. My siblings had some say in the selection and line up. My brother asked me, "You know what I really like about it?" "What?" He replies, "It's really short. That's a good thing when it comes to Christmas music."

I have lessons to plan, books to read, walks to walk, calls to dial, mixes to burn. The thud hasn't hit quite yet. I cannot believe we're at the threshold of December. Yowsers.

low key thanksgiving

My brother commented, "There was something off. Very off." He was talking about our T-Day family get together. There was far less crazy and noise, but the only thing off was my cousin, B, who is busy getting ready to be deployed. Last year there were 38 people at our little get together this year there were 17; so that was part of it. Last year was an insanely good time. Today was a comfy, enjoyable soiree.

My nuclear family went to see "Four Christmases"; the movie exceeded are expectations, which really isn't saying much. We wanted to see "Quantum of Solace", but the sister had already seen it (and the goal was the entire fam going together.) If you're into cinematography as art, this isn't the movie for you. But, there were more than enough hilarious one-liners and scenes. A good time was had by all, smuggled peanut M&Ms and all.

And, I finally talked to M in Vancouver. I think, I've been subconsciously avoiding her because I promised her that I'd run the Nashville marathon and then haven't trained due to my work schedule. I made her miss her subway. Just the skeletal reconnection made me happy. She's dating a great guy, her church internship didn't pan out, she's reading Victorian mysteries. Dude, I have the cooolest friends.

Did you know the first American thanksgiving was celebrated in 1621?

thanks giving 2008

I love Madeira's tradition of giving thanks. My high school always dedicated an assembly to the community's thanksgiving. Anybody could go to the mike and give thanks. It was a bit tedious but beautiful. A Mad girl wrote a note this year, and another Mad girl would compile a list in college so that we could continue the tradition and connection. It was a lesson that impacted a lot of our souls.

So, here is my 2008.

Thanks for good books that impact my life (the irrational season, eat this book, teacher man, etc); the gentle kindnesses of the everyday (a stranger letting me go ahead in line, off-hand, one-line compliments); friends of the kindred spirit variety that join you on the journey in the most unexpected and splendid ways; my family who I enjoy, admire and love; all that I'm learning in my first full-time teaching gig; laughter, smiles and winks; thoughts that stew in your mind 24/7 that you can dip into when you have time to journal; far-off places to read and dream about; the sheer quantity of beauty and ideas to be experienced; learning how to sew (and patience and humility); the ability and drive to grow; a God good and big.

pinkled

I went to my writing group. I haven't been since September. We talked and typed in a kitchen. It was good. I wrote about Christmas memories while one girl edited a piece on elephant dung and Mt. Kenya and the other worked on her novel. Granted, I drove over an hour round trip to write 486 words, but that's a really prosaic way to assess the genius that transpired, right? Sitting with the girls felt like an unproctored study hall as we all typed at the same dining table-- and there was somebody across the table to make eye contact with. It brought back memories of tenth grade and Michelle.

After writing I bought two books: L'engle's Irrational Season and Three Cups of Tea at the Mean Cat Used Book Store on Plaza. I showed some restraint by putting to the side until I finish at least one of the four books I'm now reading. And, I listened to a brilliant sermon on Exodus 19 and seeing God. And, I read in my books, listened to Ruth, skyped with a friend in Germany, complained about how Africa has become a fad (thanks Brad, Angie, Madonna, Bono, et al), ate a Cajun Filet Biscuit, drank legendary iced tea, planned my classes, walked while listening to Ex. 1-14. (Exodus is my favorite to listen to so far-- of course, it is straight up narrative.) I hope remain this enamored with the chatty Bible. Now, I sip red wine and get ready to read before I go to bed. 5:30 can be abrasive when one stays up too late, but otherwise it's not too bad.

Sorry for the political mumbo jumbo yesterday-- I didn't delete it although I should. I just get miffed with people who have a macro vision that they fail to live out on the micro level. Systemic evil is ultimately brought about by individuals. Regulation and taxation is dealing with symptoms not the ailment.

obama's and biden's spread the wealth strategies

This frustrates me. I give over 10 percent of my income away. Thinking about this, brings back memories of American History on the second story of Schoolhouse. In the Federalist Papers, Jay, Madison or Hamilton penned, "If all men were angels, no government would be necessary." I'm all for noblesse oblige AND checks and balances. The problem with electing socialists is that we have relinquished our discernment and choices of how to spend our money. Obama averages less than 1% charitable giving (and he's a multi-millionare). Average American giving is around 3% with smaller incomes. Biden gave .3%. McCain has given over 25% of his income. It seems that Obama words are far prettier than his life. But, who needs integrity when somebody's promoting change? I'm a simpleton who expects a person's words to align with his deeds. That makes me a critical Republican. Apparently, working in politics absolves you of personal giving. Here's an article I found that states it cogently:

Thinking about Barack Obama’s impromptu lecture to Joe “the Plumber” Wurzelbacher about his plans to “spread the wealth,” I wondered whether Obama was a practitioner of his own “spread the wealth” principles when he had the opportunity to do so, or whether he was the cheap political opportunist and redistributor of the wealth of others that he appeared to be.

Looking at Obama’s charitable giving in since 2000 based on his tax returns, we find that Obama consistently refused to follow his own advice to “spread the wealth” when he had the opportunity to do so. This is especially true in years when he made nearly $250,000 or more. Their contributions didn’t increase until Barack Obama’s extraordinary book deal helped make him a millionaire and Michelle Obama received nearly $200,000 raise in May 2005 when she assumed a new position with her employer as vice president of “community and external affairs” – coincidentally, just months after he husband joined the US Senate.

As the chart below shows (HT: TaxProf Blog, who has PDF links to all returns listed), from 2000-2004, Obama’s charitable giving averaged less than 1 percent:



In fact, during that 2000-2004 period Obama gave substantially less than the average family making more than $150,000, which averages giving of 2.2 percent of total income according to University of George Professor Russell James. And a study published in January by the Indiana University Center on Philanthropy found that nationwide in 2004 more than two-thirds of American households – the vast majority of which made significantly less than the $207,647 Obama made that year – still gave an average of over $2,000, or 3 percent of their income.

Obama’s running mate, Joe Biden, was even stingier about spreading his wealth. When his tax records were released in September, they revealed that over the past decade he had only donated an average of $369 each year. In 2007, his charitable giving was only $995, or 0.3 percent of income in a year when his tax returns reported $319,853 in income.

By comparison, John McCain gave more than one-quarter of his income in 2006 and 2007 (28.6 and 27.3 percent respectively). And according to the New York Observer, since 1998, he has donated royalties on his books totaling more than $1.8 million.

When Barack Obama and Joe Biden could voluntarily give more of their own income and had the means well beyond most Americans to do so, they refused. In the event that Barack Obama is elected President, however, he and his Democrat allies in Congress intend to force others with the full might of the US government to do what he refused to do on his own.

bizzyblog article.


And, whatever happened to his promise of post-partisan politics? Look at the cabinet he's building. Yikes.

christmas mixing

I've embarked on my "Xmas '08" mix for family and friends. I axed some of my favorites because I'm going for "upbeat". It ended up a little more twangy and old school than I planned. And, my siblings' influence on me is evident. There's still time to edit. The questions that remain: Should I put a poem on it-- will it break the rhythm? Is this too much blue grass? I take my ecclectic taste for granted, but will it shock my audience. Earlier I put downloaded my new MP3 Bible onto my itunes. My little computer is going to have to go to bed to soon.

I started Eat This Book. It... is... phenomenal!!! Peterson makes great connections and compelling arguments that remind me that the quotidian counts. It also made me so homesick for Regent, for church, for an entire community of kindred spirits. God gives us tiny tastes of heaven, so we don't settle for the good in lieu of the best, right? That's what CSL claims anyway.

the party girl

Last night (Friday night) I stayed at school until 6:35pm. I left when a friend called to pester me "Does anyone thank you for the hours you work? No. Does anybody appreciate the hours you work? No. Is it going to help your career to work these hours? No." She went on with her monologue of answering her own rhetorical questions. I concede her point, but I also know that there is no way to interact with the kids, parents and colleagues and get all the planning, paperwork, and grading done. When two people are in charge of 65 kids (and nearly half are below grade level) there's a lot of work to be finished and a lot of cya paperwork and meetings. Plus the copier jammed in five places, and the printer was acting like it was on its death bed.

I met some friends for supper and had a good time. Then came home, tried to read and decided to go to bed. (I left my house at 6:40am and got back at 8:30pm.)

What my kids will remember about me yesterday: I "said cuss words" in class while I read them The Watsons Go to Birmingham. They all wrote that page number down. While I was reading, I perched on the counter near the pencil sharpener. I walked around during the spelling quiz with pencil shavings smudged on my butt. I kept telling my kids to stop making noise during the quiz. Little did I know my arse was the cause of the disruption. I'm so cool.

so this is MY life

The school psychologist came in to my class today to observe a student. However the girl the shrink came to observe was in the principal's office because another girl on my team had punched her in the face twice. The puncher was suspended for three days. I think the punchee will get at least a day because her mouth instigates about every scrape she's in. (Update: the punchee didn't get suspended, but spent the entire day today in the guidance counselor's office because "everything made her cry.") Other students dedicated their period to giving her a good show. A new audience breathes fresh life. I felt vindicated by the psychologist observing what a craptastic class it is. She was even a bit overwhelmed, and she's trained in how to deal with kids. (The one psychology class I took in university cracked me up.)

I also felt vindicated when I went to the new middle school teachers' monthly meeting and saw how many teachers had resigned. At least four since last month. So, there's something to say for persistence.

I improved this week: I made the cookies while nibbling on the dough... instead of just nibbling. My kids will be happy.

My Amazon shipment arrived!! "The Bible Experience" whole Bible MP3s, The Attentive Life (gift for a friend) and Eat This Book by Eugene Peterson. When the Chief saw the packing carnage, she commented, "Just what we need: more books." I responded, "And CDs." She repeated, "And CDs."

who wants a single cohesive narrative when you could have this?

I'm a hypocrite: I teach writing in an orderly fashion. But, a single cohesive narrative is simply not in the cards tonight, friends, even though that's what I teach most days. It isn't in the cards. What cards?

On an early evening whim, I headed to the Wednesday night service at the church in which I grew up. A large part of my motivation was food; those women can cook. I ended up going to the tough questions class that dealt with "How do you deal with the atrocities done in the name of Christianity" and "What does the Bible say about homosexuality?" The class lived up to its name. I'm not sure I can give an anecdote this close to having gone. I was getting really frustrated with this enthusiastic, misinformed chap perched in the seat directly in front of me. His inane and spiteful comments irked me until suddenly they seemed hilarious and I'd get the giggles every time he said something ridiculous. He even said that "the crusades were necessary". You scare me. "Homosexuality is an abomination." Um, last time I checked, all sin is fundamentally odious to God. From the discussion, I did realize my point of departure from most of the people in the room is that I think there is nothing fundamentally sacred about the nuclear family. The nuclear family isn't a biblical concept the best I can tell.

The evening reminded me: a) I'm in odd place, having gone to seminary (I've read a lot about, gone to lectures on and written papers on stuff most people think about in passing), b) I'm odd, c) this isn't the church for me, and d) Church is hard... in a good way.

I keep hoping that I'll happen upon the equivalent to St. Johns here, but it isn't going to happen. Or, even Chapel Hill Bible the era I attended. The lack of a church to call home makes me think that I'm not going to end up here, but, then again, maybe I just need to pick one and muscle through the angst and longing for kinship.

Speaking of odd, I'm excited about sewing Saturday. I can't wait to wear my new skirt and dress!! And, today I was daydreaming about walking through McAdenville at night to see the Christmas lights. And, I want to go ice skating outside somewhere this holiday season! And, hear Handel's Messiah.

* note to self: perhaps this quantity push isn't for the best. Maybe I should have theme nights or wait patiently until I have a cool story.

a good day

North Carolina is playing Kentucky in basketball. College basketball season has arrived... and UNC is destined for greatness even with Hansbrough injured. Tis good to be a Tar Heel.

I refuse to let insommnia best me. I went over to a friend's for dinner. We had a lovely time full of delightful banter about ideas and politics and theology. And, we're going to have to continue our discussion of sisters. She has a sister who is 18 months older than she, too. And, our sisters' names are the same.

In my afternoon class, I had a breakthrough with some of the dynamics. It's as if I gained an outsider's perspective for a bit. I was aware of the interaction among, teacher and students and students and students. I could feel them get restless or get really involved. I could tell the difference between good noise and bad noise.

In my morning class, I had two moments that fueled me emotionally for the rest of the day. A girl leaned back and said, "Oh, now I get what we're doing." She promptly dug into the work. And, on the way to lunch, another girl handed me a carefully folded square that read "To: Mrs. M from: V". I opened it to find a very detailed picture of a spider and web rotating purple and black Sharpees. And, every-other letter was purple. M (purple) r (black) s (purple) . (black). I wonder if she did it during reading, writing or grammar. I'm partly honored to be the recipient of work that time intensive and partly chagrinned she's comfortable enough to hand me the evidence of her slacking in my class.

I applied to a job fair in a different system. It's a good system and not likely, but it'll be good experience.

I'm enjoying Larry Crabb's Shattered Dreams. And, I just embarked on Frank McCourt's Teacher Man; I think I'm going to love it.

whoa, nelly

This afternoon I attended a workshop about teaching writing. It was fairly interesting, but a) I disagreed with the basic premise and b)on afternoons I'm not buzzing around my room wrangling 12 year-olds, I get sleepy.

My concern is that these types of writing formulas deal with the symptom rather than the ailment. Writing well and reading comprehension are, in essence, thinking well. This programmatic system with reproducables indicates the larger problem of vision of public schooling. There is no vision. The problem is people can't and don't think. There's no Language Arts curriculum that can erradicate that. A mother's education level is the best indicator of a child's success in school for a reason. The foundation of thinking, hence, writing and reading are taught at home not school. There is no amount of conferencing a public school teacher can do (esp. when there are over 30 other kids in the room) that will substitute for a mother reading a book with a child. My mom taught me active reading before I could read. She'd ask questions whilst she read, demanding observation and prediction from me. Likewise, conversation prepares a child to write clearly and persuasively. There's no graphic organizer that can absolve a parent.

That said, I come back to small classes are good classes. Conversation is learning. That said, I'm glad for some methods. I got some good exercises to integrate. I'm too critical and theoretical.

fun we had

I'm exhausted. Twas an intense weekend. I went to visit my sister for her birthday. We had fun, ate well, chatted incessantly, and stayed out late. I enjoyed meeting the people with whom she spends her time. We bought a fun birthday cake at Whole Foods but got in too late (2am) to eat it with the Proseco she'd designated for the mini celebration. I haven't been at a bar at closing time in quite a while or done shots in a while.

She's house sitting for a history prof and her family. I enjoyed their house and books. It seemed the perfect place to read and write. Lots of windows and bookselves. Great sound system. Lovely yard with a brook behind. And, the books were alphabetized which kind of made the living room seem like a library. And, the pets were characters worthy of a picture book.

Notable detail: I stopped at a rest stop to use the bathroom. Drat if a tour bus of red hatters (old ladies decked out in outrageous red hats, sporting purple velvet) had not queued out the Ladies' room. It was more of a curly queue. It would have been highly amusing if I hadn't had two cups of coffee and a liter of water. I skedaddled to my car and found a gas station. I never knew they toured on buses.

I need to contact local colleges, universities and community colleges this week about adjunct positions for the summer. It'll be a lot of work... that might pay off.

I cannot believe Thanksgiving is next week (well, the following week).

I'm getting organized and getting calm in multiple areas of my life.

you are beginning to feel relaxed

"Now release your buttocks. The lower part of your body is beginning to relax....

"Breath in two three....

"You may feel the sensation of flowing or heaviness. Both of these are normal."

I'm listening to this ridiculous CD partly because of curiosity (it's always been in my stack), humor and the local classical station is playing something brassy and full of percussion. Super. Listening to this brings back the good times of watching my roommate's Billy Blanks' Tae Bo DVDs. Just watching them... well, watching them and eating popcorn. It's much sillier when one is watching than participating. "Geez, Billy, you're earnest and shiny." Like now, I'm focusing on the Sleep Expert's excellent ennunciation and the flat affect of his voice in Progressive Muscle Relax.

It's the kind of voice I needed to hear today when a student broke a planter in my room. Or, when the instructional assistant didn't show. Or, when I found out about the surprise faculty meeting. Or, when the parent showed up for a tete at tete. Or, when my awesome writing activity bombed. I asked, "Do you know what 'original' means?" A student eagerly answered, "Something you do every day." I responded by directing a student to look up "original" in the Dictionary. Huh, fresh and unusual.

Breathe in one two three. Out one two three. Now imagine you're on any beautiful beach of your own choosing. Thanks, sleep expert, I like options in imaginary beaches.

So, I had sardines and salteens for dinner and topped it off with a gratuitous amount of chocolate chip cookie dough. "Vomit" isn't so gross right now.

Did I forget to mention that I replied to my teammate's chipper comment: "All I do is try to help you" with "That is what you always say." Then, proceeded to tell her where her party line broke down with specific examples. Why, yes, I did piss her off. But, she was far less bossy opinionated and yankee after that.

Thanks for listening. I'm off to grade and record a 5" stack of papers.

I love my job, John Tesh. I love my job, John Tesh. Play on, John Tesh. Breathe one two three.

glimmer

Some days I just feel clobbered by mundanity, mediocrity and apathy. It's like they're thugs who mug you when you skip out the back door of the bar to get some fresh air. You're enjoying the clear night sky and brisk temperature... then, BAM. Thugs come and beat you just for the hell of it.

Today was the reverse. I was privvy to wonder. This boy in my class (who frustrates me to no end-- his dad is in jail and his mom works insane hours) rescued three birds from this net. This one bird even let him hold it. It shocked me speechless to watch this kid who refuses to do work, gently free these frightened birds. His problem-solving and command of the situation was awe-full. I felt honored to witness the interaction. It gave me hope for this kid. So, he might fall under the spell of Shakespeare, but there is something beautiful about his soul when he isn't clogging toilets or throwing spitballs.

sicky poo

I'm sick. It's the cold and flu variety. I'm sleeping and self-medicating. My body aches and my appetite is depressed. But, the sleep is good. I finished The Attentive Life and recommend it. Of course, I taught Sunday School this morning and was sitting in the worship service when I thought to myself, "Screw it, I'm going home and going to bed." I was hanging on for communion. Instead, I communed with my bed for four hours.

I'm going into work tomorrow; it's too much work to scrounge up a substitute. I have Tuesday off, so I'll try to hang on through tomorrow, leave early and sleep on Tuesday.

Saturday, I almost finished my second winter skirt and started on my first wool sheath. I'm starting to get the hang of this sewing thing. But, I went to Mary Jo's, a cloth store, Sat evening and just got overwhelmed. So, I came home with only a 22" zipper.

conference day

It's nine o'clock, and I just came upstairs from putting a double batch of brownies in the oven. (Brownies are my latest effort to bribe my students. I got an idea from a colleague-- she said to set them as a weekly reward for the top groups. I'm casting the net a little wider this week; I'll probably give it to the top half.) I promised my kids, so, I had to do it although I'm beat. We taught from 7:50-12:30 then had parent conferences from 1-7:30. I think I'm going to sleep well. My students don't realize the hours we work; they just want their stinking brownies.

The conferences went well on the whole. I inflated my grades because I know I'm a stricter teacher than they're used to, and I'm used to a ten-point scale (not the silly seven-point one this county uses). Furthermore, I have a lot to learn about teaching and communicating with the mind of a seventh grader. So, we'll give them a benefit of the doubt. I don't always communicate my expectations and directions effectively. That's my excuse anyway. I'm working on it, and I'll eventually take some education classes and figure out some theory on what I'm living right now.

Sunny side: One of my fellow teachers informed me that when he asked his class about democracy day one of his students told him that the political cartoon lady was the best. Apparently, this kid found my schpiel the most interesting and informative. Of course, the kid didn't glean my name from the interaction. But, it made me feel good. I get so little feedback and even less positive feedback. My ego will snack on this tidbit for a while. It's as my mom says, "My need for affirmation is embarrassing." It must be genetic.

I'm feeling more in control, more situated. Probably I come home tomorrow howling and ready to quit. But, I think I know where I'm headed with my kids in Language Arts. Each lesson plan comes naturally-- it's not an arduous task that feels like I'm wrestling a manatee out of the water. But, Social Studies on the other hand...

Yes, my life IS this boring. The most exciting part are the books I'm reading and my crazy friends and family. So, I might do a book review.

summation

Here's an excerpt from an email I wrote a friend who never reads my blog. Talking with him is always clarifying, safe and funny. We'll call it the alchemy of friendship.

time zooms by. i am finally coming to turns with my job, relaxing if you will. i get so frustrated with how i think things should be and how they are. but, i shouldn't get uptight about things over which I have nil control. i have the occassional wow moment, but most of the time I feel like i'm learning how to improve my mistakes. there's a lot of trial and error. tallying of the score. then, i stratergerizing to take another whack at teaching. this is going to sound horrible. but, i'm at a loss at how to teach the truly dumb kids. i think i'm going to tatoo it into their brains through repetition. i've been having my kids respond to different art related to the literary element (setting, character, etc) that we've been covering. my mentor told me to keep doing it with my upper kids, but that it was a waste of creativity on my lower ones. she suggested work sheets. i promised myself that i'd never be that kind of teacher. oh well.
but, i'm on the search for an easy Iliad to read them. Probably fewer than half of the kids i'm teaching will graduate; so I feel obligated to expose them as much as possible. Perhaps I'm just overwhelming them.... But, by definition of average-- half the pop has to be below. But, I'm learning how to focus on the good and not to get mired in all the ridiculous and pathetic. i'm bracing myself for parent conferences. a lot of the locals think i'm uppity because of my accent. i chatted on the phone with one dad about what we were studying (islam and judaism); i used the whole knowledge is power logic. it was awesome: this guy in S. explained to me how Obama is the anti-Christ. I'm not a big fan, but please.

and, i feel like my soul is really a work zone right now. I'm not sure what God's up to, but i'm trying to be as pliant and open as the brick I am can be. i read a really good quote by Dallas Willard: "Ruthlessly eliminate hurry."

on generic airborne

I'm fending off a cold with many a dietary supplement (zinc, vitamin c, orange juice, target brand airborne) and sleep. I can feel the cold trying to set up camp in my throat, glands and nasal passages. And, I'm ODing on hand-sanitizer when I think about it as to make up for the times I forget to use it. I wonder if I'm merely postponing the inevitable.

Forget our cess pool of an economy for a moment; cold and flu season is something we can rally against. Team effort. Stay home if you're sick.

I read a great Dallas Willard quotation this weekend: "Ruthlessly eliminate hurry." This quote and the other spiritual reading has given me a much-needed measure of calm and perspective. Now I need to slowly build a social life. God is good, and God is no Santa. I'm trying to be faithful in the tiny.

I had a workday today because of elections. I got a lot done. Of course, I was there ten hours with little interruption. My meeting with my mentor proved encouraging and practical.

I'm tired. I feel like I should care more about the elections than I do. I did vote. But, it's as my spiritual director's assistant said: "God's in control."

cartoons and more!

I have two friends participating in NaNoWriMo. All I have to say is KUDOS. I'm really excited for them. What an intense, crazy fete of self-discipline and ingenuity. I'll keep you posted.

I taught about said political cartoons. I learned a lot. The oldest political cartoon is attributed to Ben Franklin and dated at 1754. It's a unrealistic snake divided into eight segments labeled with the states' initials under it is "Join... or Die". I showed them my favorite cartoon: the one Doug Marlette drew in response to the Challenger disaster in 1986. It's the bald eagle shedding a tear while looking up at a night sky sprinkled with stars. Then we looked at one based on Monty Python. Obama and Hillary are dressed up as medieval knights. Hillary is on the ground with all her limbs laying about her, saying, "Fine, we'll call it a draw" to the departing Obama who's walking gingerly to his next duel. Finally, there was a tic tac toe board. McCain was primed for the next move with the center and bottom left corner. Obama had the other three corners. Some of the kids got that one right away. Some didn't.

I came home early and went to bed. I'm back up for a bit to insure that I'll sleep through the night. I can't rid myself of this bug. Tomorrow is a work day, and I'm excited to get a lot of paper shuffled.

In two days, we'll have a new president elect.

wilmington blitz

The Chief and I headed down to Wilmington to birthday tidings to my lil bro who turns 21 tomorrow. I enjoyed the entire trip. We had beautiful weather-- sunroof open weather. We drove mostly back roads, which makes for a longer but more enjoyable trip. We drove by lots of cotton fields and had lots of rambling conversation. Road trips produce singular conversation; they're a unique spot on the time-space continuum.

The visit was a relaxed, roly-poly, meandering kind of rollick. We read by the pool until J-D could meet us. Then, we went to downtown Wilmington where we strolled and cheered for the Iron Man competitors. They were very close to completion and completely haggard. One guy shocked me by looking me in the eye and thanking me after I cheered for him. Um, you're welcome. Another guy cracked me up when he asked for a short cut.

We ate steak. We watched football. We ate organic pumpkin pie on styrofoam. We enjoyed each other's company. We sat abreast a bench and watched the tide come in for about an hour. We drove and walked my brother's normal routes. We laughed, smiled and chatted. We shopped, and I bought a cachecole or something or other at the art co-op. We ate Mexican, which is an unofficial ritual for turning 21 in our family. My sister's birthday we ate Mexican in Charlottesville, mine in Chapel Hill and J-D in Wilmington. It was coincidence that somehow gained significance. The brother and sister are going to hang out in W-S next weekend.

Tomorrow I'm teaching political cartoons to the entire seventh grade. It should be interesting. I picked some good ones. I hope I do it justice. It was brilliant to get away if just for 36 hours. I should enjoy work more.

I voted Friday, which is worthy of its own post, but I'm tired. The wait was about two hours. We were surrounded by pleasant people whom we chatted up. We shared a party cheat sheet and laughed about how we could talk with each other but had to silence our cell phones. I think there should be an express lane for registered voters. The unregistered really bogged down the process.

prehalloween party

My small group had a halloween party of which I thought would be hokey. Maybe it was hokey, but I thoroughly enjoyed myself. We were considering not having small group this year, but I'm so glad we persevered. Our Thursday night gatherings are delightful. I looked around at how cozy everybody was; they body language and the conversation is relaxed and real.

R prepared a feast, and I feasted a little too hard. We had a costume contest: Z won with his Darth Vader get up. We told the scariest story that happened to us. We then completed a story. My finish the tale was the lamest. One lady wrote a limerick about a demented santa claus. One guy lampooned the election ads. Two were scary. It was so much fun. I missed N, but he's busy adventuring in Germany. God is good.

glimpses from the trenches

This past Friday the band put on a BBQ for a fundraiser. My room faces the band building so our windows were an excellent vantage point to watch people picking up their orders walk to and from the parking lot. Finally after getting frustrated by the kids gazing out the window instead of writing their journal or doing their work on adjectives, in exasperation, I say, "It's SOO fas-ci-na-ting to watch strangers walk on a sidewalk." In earnest, one student responded, "Especially when they're this ugly!" I tried not to laugh but did not succeed.

***

Last Wednesday I found myself at another point of abject frustration. I asked my class sans the football players who had early dismissal to discuss the class's behavior and possible solutions that would provide a calm learning environment. I got helpful input like "You should seat us with our friends. That way we won't get in fights." And, "we need to do fun stuff." The brainstorming session proved a refresher in the maturity level of my students. But, this one droll kid came up to me after class. He said, "Ms. M, I have a suggestion. You know your blue storage cabinent back there. You should clean it out so you can put the kids who misbehave. They could still hear what's going on. You'd have to keep it locked, though." I said, "And, maybe make it sound proof." We chuckled at our humor.

***

In homeroom, I got a girl to take names on the board of people talking. After talking some procedure, I turn around and find my name followed by about 50 checks lined up all the way across the board. I laughed then said, "I was talking." Funnier still was when the board wouldn't erase. So my name with the row of checks remained the entire day. One of my brighter students in the following class asked me, "What did you do to get your name on the board?"

my weekend:

In answer to yesterday's question, the late bird gets scolded. I had an uncomfortable conversation, which ended up with me saying to take me off the list. There are just too many provisoes needed for me to go. I hate being so wound up in my job right now, but I am. And, I'm lucky/blessed to have one. And, it's good to have a friend miffed that I can't come; well, far better than her being indifferent.

Today I went to Greensboro to the Southern Baptist Church my mom grew up in. Afterwards, we went to the cemetary where my grandparents are buried. Then, we ate a delicious meal my aunt prepared. It was a solemn and wacky time. My family is always a bit wacky. We listened to the Carolina Panthers game on the way home.

I'm up past my bedtime, which means nothing good for me come 5:30am tomorrow. I like sleep. I'm not the average sleep-deprived American. I respect sleep and am scared of the person I am without it.

I planned lessons after getting home from Greensboro. I'm teaching adjectives, Tale of Despereaux, portraiture and the Arabian Peninsula next week. I'm also teaching 7th graders. I'm trying to be excited. It's jeans week. There's a Halloween dance on Friday (2 hours--we'll have a shortened schedule). I have a four-day week the following two weeks. We're off election day and Veteran's day.

Life is good even if it seems somewhat perfunctory and mundane. Yay, for my tweed skirt.

what does the late bird get?

My week was quick and crappy. I dreaded my last period-- the leaden lump in my stomach, don't eat kind of dread. Then, everything came to a head, and I survived. My students were relatively subdued Friday afternoon; perhaps, their antics exhausted them as well.

I'm supposed to head to DC next weekend for a friend's PhD party, but it seems that I've waited too late and the airline tickets are exorbidantly high. I'm brilliant.

I sewed a cute, tweed skirt today at G's. Spending time with her is always such gift. She's so different from my family-- she thinks before she speaks. She's a sewer not a reader. She's so patient and wise.

I have some tales to tell. Alas, I'm tired.

union

So, I'm a union member nowadays. Thanks to my mom's stern sentence: "Not joining NEA is unethical." So, as tiny as my salary is I shell out the $450 dues. I get nothing tangible for it, but I do have a clean conscience.

Anyway, I got a note in the mail that shows my problem with education (pay attention to the wording).

"Dear New NEA Member,

Welcome to the National Education Association, the organization that stands for great public schools for every child and never stops working for you...."

I read this sentence and got really upset. Then I realized that this word choice defined the difference between my goal as a teacher and the school systems. I want to EDUCATE my students; they want to SCHOOL them. "Educate" comes from the Latin "educare/educo" which means "to lead out". "School" comes from the Greek "schole" which means "free time". Schooling and education are separate yet connected. This philosophical difference is the crux of my frustration. I could educate my kids if I had 16-20 in a classroom, but with 32 in my room I provide them with schooling.

थे बेस्ट लैड plans

Ah, in August I planned a field trip to this science place. I thought a nature center and trails and a rapture center would be really fun and entertaining. We'd get to play outside and learn cool stuff. Then, only about 3/4 of our kids signed up, so I had to stay back. I was bummed that I didn't get to go. Today was field trip day. It turned out, I got the better end of the bargain. I stayed back with twelve kids... another eight or so of our kids played hookie. One of our kids broke his collar bone playing football last night. Another was suspended, etc.

My day rawked!! We read O'Henry's "The Ransom of Red Chief" to start off. Some complained it was too long. Others enjoyed the crazy humor. Red Chief was a lot like Laurie in Shirley Jackson's "Charles". Then I had them different picture books of folk and fairy tales that they needed to map out the plot. Then they did collages. Then we went for a long(er) walk. Then, we read a play. It was a fabulous day. Apparently, the field trip was a bit of a bust. The girls didn't want to get dirty (they had to collect insects and fungus) so they just stood around. The raptor lecture was really good. But, they had to walk a lot. (Actually, I think I would have really enjoyed it... but I'm a geek.)

I didn't get to enter as many of my grades as I was planning to this week due to technical difficulties and time constraints. So, I went to enter the grades and the site is having scheduled maintenance from 5pm Friday to 6am Monday. Awesome. I'm screwed. I guess, my weekend just got more fun.

थे बेस्ट लैड plans

school pictures

I got a package of school pictures today. The pictures were a bit of surprise since I hadn't ordered any. Besides the extremely awkward angle my chin is at, they're okay. The whole incident made me chuckle... what am I going to do with school pictures? It brought memories of other school pictures-- my sixth grade and first grade are the most memorable because of my mullet-esque hairdos and fabulous garb.

Update: I woke up at 5:13 today. I had to pass a car illegally on my way to work because I was running late. "Had to" is a bit of a stretch. "Chose to" is a better fit. It was a stupid and dangerous stunt and I'm glad I survived and nobody got injured-- three cars were coming the other way. I didn't recall my stupidity until I was headed to spiritual direction, which functions partly as confession for me.

My spiritual director wants to come and meet my class. Woohoo. And, I've decided I want to take my students to UNCC to visit a college campus. And, maybe take the ones interested on a Saturday trip to Chapel Hill. We could catch a baseball game maybe.

man-oh-man

It's 7:30pm, and I'm going to bed. Today we studied the five conflicts in story: character vs. character, character vs. fate, character vs. nature, character vs. society, and character vs. self. We'll classify this character vs. fate. The protagonist succumbs to her fate only to rise before her alarm tomorrow morning. I thought that I'd blog so that I wouldn't feel thoroughly routed. We went to see "Body of Lies" this weekend. I want to see it again because it's so dense. And, we hung out with my cousin who will be deployed to Iraq in December. It's getting closer and closer. He promises he'll be doing office work over there (he does have a JD). That seems a little ineffecient. And, I hung out with my first W242 small group members. It was so much fun. I got three pairs of shoes: 2 danskos and 1 keen. And I bought fabric to make 3 skirts. Today after school I entered tons of grades and emailed the teacher union about getting dumped on. At least I took some action regardless the outcome. Be reckless. Be daring. Go to bed early.

Nighty-night.

i'm sick of the election

So, I escape into poetry. These are two poems I pour over again and again. These poems are an oasis of beauty and verbal precision.
....
As though the sun's rays, denied by angle
and position of the earth their customary
part, ricochet a thousand times among
the mirrored crystals, emerged more intense,
more light than light itself, so the man,
stumbling from thought to thought, catches
balance, a blinking new-born Lazarus....
-Gary Geddes, "Quality of Light"

In a time that breaks
in cutting pieces all around,
when men, voiceless
against thing-ridden men,
set themselves on fire, it seems
too difficult and rare
to think of the life of a man
grown whole in the world,
at peace and in place.
But having thought of it
I am beyond the time
I might have sold my hands
or sold my voice and mind
to the arguments of power
that go blind against
what they would destroy.
-Wendell Berry, "To Think of the Life of a Man"

It is as CSL said, "We read in order to know we are not alone." If one of my students falls in love with art or reading, all the forms, record-keeping,

crest

I've finally made it to the crest after paddling in the trough for so long. The workday was energizing and encouraging. The big picture began to reemerge for me. I found some awesome technology that will work well in my class. The Discovery Channel's United Streaming and some primary sources and biographical info to integrate into the basic survey that is my Social Studies class. I decided that I want to teach them the alphabet of Hebrew, Ancient Greek and Arabic... or at least introduce them to it. That will maybe store into their heads the Talmud, New Testament and the Koran. And, as we tack on Eastern languages we can add on their languages and holy writings. It'll be fun to compare Christian art to Muslim. Greek Orthodox/Byzantium to the Western. Good times. I think we're going to read "Rikki Tikki Tavi" next week. I also need to incorporate longer writing exercises. They can do it. Let me reiterate: I'm very excited about United Streaming and my other sources! Woohoo.

And, my P-touch arrived today. Voila, here is all the evidence you need to legitimate your suspicions of how exactly anal I am.

I'll turn out some brief reviews of the books I'm reading next week. Twilight, Shattered Dreams (Larry Crabb) and Attentive Life (Leighton Ford). And, I'm planning to see Body of Lies tomorrow. Lots of reviews... get pumped.

I've been sitting on the idea of getting out of my writing group. The idea was very freeing. I think I'll definitely take a respit (sp?) the rest of October and November.

news

For their journal entries today, I had my 7th graders respond to Picasso's "Girl Before the Mirror". Their response was mixed: "it is ugly" to "She looks into the mirror to see a different part of herself." "The face is messed up" to "There is a pencil in the painting." We talked about MoMA and the value of a Picasso and cubism. I found their engagement fascinating. Some of them were more willing to engage with the new and unknown and some instaneously dismissed it as stupid. I identify with both reactions-- sometimes I'm really open and curious and sometimes I'm in rolling-eyes mode. But, if they're like I am, I'm more open the second time round. I want them to grow familiar and comfortable with art. I want them to figure out what kind of art they connect with. I'm going to look at Byzantine next week. Then, Matisse, Debussy, Rothko, Van Gogh, etc.

I went to a meeting this afternoon about the new state-wide writing assessment. This year is a pilot year. It's whacked. I have to grade an extra 625 papers because of this and take a 20 hour course, which translates into over seventy hours of extra (and uncompensated) work. It took me about two hours to unwind from that news. I even blew steam at the opening of my aun'ts b-day party.

Tomorrow's a teacher workday. I'm excited to get some time to catch up on all my work.

fyi

Last night I went to bed at 9pm and slept till my alarm sounded at 5:30 am. By the time I'm 80, I'll be going to bed at 4:30pm... won't that be nice.

Oh, my kids are recognizing what a fabulous reader I am. They're coming to appreciate my genius, my expression and my humor. Sure.

fast week

I can't believe it's Wednesday night. Time zips on by me. I lose my temporal equilibrium in the same way I did when I swam long distance in a pool (forty laps) or run 2 miles on a track. I'm in class about 5 hours and was in meetings for over an hour-- managing students for an hour (bus riders and silent lunch) and then there is the face time/chat time building relationships (time with the guidance counselor, my teammate, other 7th grade teachers, EC teacher, janitors, et al) which probably equals an hour, there's administrative task time, straighten time, email parent time, and grade papers time. Of course, when I got to school my computer wouldn't boot. There was so much going on that my computer didn't even get a rise out of me.

I like my job more this week. It's a more manageable overwhelming. I'm realizing I can't do it all, and I have a ton to learn. I shouldn't berate myself but consider what I did and how I can improve upon it. The Chief reminds me to think about it as paid student teaching. We shall see.

And, the other exciting news: it looks like I might get hired as adjunct at a local university for the summer. What a groovy summer job! It beats being a cashier. I'll be teaching Church History which is a passion of mine. Not that I'm not a big fan of grammar and the parts of speech and elements of story. But, you know that I know you know that I'm terribly fond of the driest, churchiest history there is. Plus, it'll be a vacation to teach non prepubescent people. People who don't roll their eyes when I say, "Get out your journals" or bank paper off the ceiling while shooting it at the trashcan. I do have amusing stories to chronicles, but it takes a certain amount of breathing time until I find them stupid. Today I had some real doozies.

Thought of the day sans a verb: "Cheap grace and vague faith". What powerful and unexpected combinations.

game on

Butch fixed my car. The rhythmic thumping sound disappeared, but the alignment got wacked. My new right front wheel bearing set me back $234 instead of the estimated $370 (Butch looked up the wrong screen on Saturday morning). That was a pleasant surprise. I always go to Mom and Pop joints whenever possible; "Butch" is a fitting name for a mechanic-- maybe not for a heart surgeon. Fixed car is a definite relief, esp. since it wasn't the transmission or engine.

I don't have the temperment or the fortitude it takes to teach seventh grade. I cry, "Uncle" everyday before noon. I was ready to go home when I picked up my homeroom from gym. They were going ballistic, walking in the grass, picking at each other. I feel my prissiness come out: "Be civilized." And, I remark, "Unbelievable" when I'm utterly confounded by someone's antics. I had 2 things stolen from my desk Friday.

So, I'm going to cut out fun: there's going to be lots of seat work and a draconian discipline system. Screw my idea of an economy of plusses and minuses-- my little darlings stole some of the items I bought out of my cabinet I forgot to lock. If they get their name on the board: silent lunch. If they get a check beside their name: Redirect. Things are out of hand. It feels like I'm discipling and following through, but I must not be. I just to call parents every night a child misbehaves. Hell, what's another hour to a twelve hour day. And, I'm having issues with projectiles, so, I'm going to have them leave their bookbags at the front of the room. I did send some emails out to Department chairs for adjunct positions.

I'm going for a walk-- I'm too stressed to run. Walking is more cathartic for stress... running for anger.

And, I need to write and read more. I'm thinking that public school wasn't a good fit for me as a student and it isn't a good fit for me as a teacher. Perhaps, I'm relenquishing personal responsibility too readily.