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)
Tuesday, December 30, 2008
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)
Monday, December 29, 2008
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.
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.
Sunday, December 28, 2008
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
Thursday, December 25, 2008
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.
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.
Tuesday, December 23, 2008
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.
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
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
Monday, December 22, 2008
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.
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.
Sunday, December 21, 2008
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.
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.
Friday, December 19, 2008
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.
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.
Thursday, December 18, 2008
lunch
I ate chocolate covered pretzels for lunch. And, I wonder why I'm a little low on pep and having insommnia attacks.
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
"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.
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
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
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
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.
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.
Monday, December 15, 2008
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.
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.
Sunday, December 14, 2008
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.
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.
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.
Saturday, December 13, 2008
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.
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.
Friday, December 12, 2008
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.
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.
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
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.
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.
Monday, December 8, 2008
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.
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.
Sunday, December 7, 2008
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.
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.
Saturday, December 6, 2008
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.
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.
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.
Thursday, December 4, 2008
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!
Wednesday, December 3, 2008
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.
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.
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.
Tuesday, December 2, 2008
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?
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?
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