intermission

Weekends have begun to feel like intermissions during a long play. They're a brief break to stretch my legs, use the bathroom, chat, gather yourself, figure out with tact who's coughing (or tapping her foot directly behind you) take care of any business (email, text, note to self), figure out plans for afterwards. And, then sometimes, I just keep my seat unless somebody needs to pass by me. This weekend was a hybrid between business and rest: I began a pants project (measured, cut the pieces, began sewing the tops together (wool and lining separately)) and did some final measurements for the vest.

Rest came as lunch with a friend, two movies (You've Got Mail and Four Feathers), dinner with my sister and my mom. I didn't even read. The fact that I got so little work done leads me to believe that I'm unconsciously expecting a snow day on Monday. An entitlement mentality does me no good. I've read enough Aesop's Fables to know that.

I made a hard decision: no Italy. I can't afford it: the economy is horrible, I'm not tenured (there's no guarantee I'll have a job next year), my student loans carry on (they make me see the positive side of inflation), I have trip planned for April and June already, I don't have a real summer job lined up-- very sketchy. My priorities need to have an air of prudence to them. I'd love to go to Italy, but it's not going to be Summer 2009.

Lenten update: I stuck to my limited internet use except for today. However, I didn't use the extra time to read my Bible. I used it to spaz out or sleep. Now, I need to convert the time to good-- it's not enough to clear the schedule.

Schedule Update: my work week was stressful: I can feel it in my neck and shoulders-- at least it's not to the point that I'm nauseous. My afternoon block was out of control and spiteful. And there's colleague conflict. It's as if I get into this painful, defensive crouching posture mentally and emotionally. I'm drained. I need to be reading my Bible and praying more. Friday night I had a great time serving homeless people dinner with my small group and hanging out with M & B.

Work highligt: I had my student's write a metaphor for hope in response to Emily Dickinson's "Hope is a thing with feathers." One kid wrote that hope was a set of car keys. You need your car keys in order to go anywhere, but sometimes you lose them. Yet you inevitably find them. I've been thinking about the metaphor a lot. It's brilliant... and I helped facilitate it. It makes my aching shoulders somewhat worth it.

Irony & Emily Dickinson

are like silly and Jim Carrey. Today, I really outdid myself. I created a lesson plan to plumb the depths of ED's poem:

Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune without the words,
And never stops at all,

And sweetest in the gale is heard;
And sore must be the storm
That could abash the little bird
That kept so many warm.

I've heard it in the chillest land,
And on the strangest sea;
Yet, never, in extremity,
It asked a crumb of me.

(This version is clearly no scholarly edition- there are no dashes. I got it off the internet.) I thought this would be a really fun and easy poem to teach meter. The English is less cumbersome than Shakespeare, etc. And, the killer extended metaphor. It's rich!

But, my afternoon block were horrid the last 2/3 of the block. So, I'm going to let my first block do the really uber cool peace-doll project. And, I have put together a packet for the kids who do not know how to be quiet. My hope nearly got squashed.

I heard a thought-provoking Ash Wednesday sermon. He talked about almsgiving, praying and fasting as the components of Lent. He broke down alms-giving into interesting facets: giving people the benefit of the doubt, giving yourself grace. And, he called my bluff about time and prayer. I got into two cool conversations at Wal-Mart due to the ashes on my forehead.

I now must test drive uber cool peace-doll project. Cross your fingers.

P.S. Good news: I got an invite to Italy. Bad news: It's not all expenses paid. Good news: It's in the summer, and I've never been to Italy. Bad news: Already have a trip to DC and BC planned.

plot by flannery o'connor

My aim was noble tonight: I drove to the funeral home to go to a student's father's visitation. Nobody was at the funeral home, at least no one living. Then, I got lost coming home because I reasoned I'd just ask the people at the funeral home directions. Next, I had a bizarre conversation with an African at the Whitewater Center. I swear to God a road was missing, which made a reliable conversationalist. He patronized me, and I'm never in the mood to be patronized, especially tonight. He told me to be quiet. When I finally reached the belt loop, my gas light went on. Yes, I had ten miles or so until I was completely empty. I had four-tenths of a gallon to spare when I reached the gast station. But, I came home to sirloin and Shiraz. This sequence of snaffus made me appreciate normalcy. Yay, normal!

I can some up day in a single incident: I lost my lunch. How does one lose her lunch?

Polycarp

Perhaps, I should have recognized the foreboding nature of a week filled with martyrs: Bonhoeffer and Polycarp. Bonhoeffer got the axe in the 20th century and Polycarp in the first. Bonhoeffer was in his 40s and Polycarp in his 80s. I love Polycarp's retort to being asked to deny Jesus: "For 86 years I have served Jesus Christ and he has never abandoned me. How could I curse my blessed King and Savior?" (This quotation from Saint Polycarp is used as the Benedictus antiphon.) The Roman officials didn't want to look like complete jerks and tried to get him to recant his faith. At Vespers, they read the part about him telling him not to nail him to the pyre. The selection is really inspiring until they get to the part about how wonderful the scent of his burning body was. I love the stories of the early martyrs, but they're over the top.


I was a martyr today on the pyre of pubescent hormones. I was ready to sell about half my students into indentured servanthood and call it character building. I can't wait to see what the rest of the week has in store in lessons of patience and humility, so I bought two bottles of Shiraz on the way home from Spiritual Direction.

I came up with a blue print for my denial during Lent. It's gonna hurt, but is immentently doable.

commencement

Yesterday three of us met for the first of my monthly book clubs. (Three is a good number in theological circles.) I got good feedback about the location. It was a little loud due to the hoopla of a visitation weekend at the college. Lots of potential students and parents needed their caffiene. We had to move because a student started playing the piano next to us. But, when we got situated-- I did not start us well-- we just went around sharing quotations and commenting and reflecting on each other's picks. I found the exercise immensely helpful.

I bought Outliers yesterday. I borrowed it on CD, but don't want to listen to it in twenty minute installments. I also started reading a book on insommnia. And, while at the library, I enjoyed Meltdown Geography, an article in The Atlantic. I feel like I gained enough information and vocabulary that I could carry a cocktail party conversation about it. Phrases such as "mega regions", "talent clustering", urban metabolism", "spatial fix" and "a city's velocity and density". It was an optimistic piece that made me feel good about not owning a home and being so unencumbered. He ended on a positive, wry quotation of Paul Romer's, "A crisis is a terrible thing to waste."

I shopped for more Social Studies craft materials. They're going to be all crafted out. We're going to make a shaman ornament and a ancestor doll. I'm interested in how it will play out. My lower kids got really frustrated and some of them just quit with their masks. I'm not methodical enough in my presentation of steps. And, I don't sweep around the room to insure everybody is keeping up with my instruction. My bright kids took it and ran with it. My slow kids just quit. It kind of reminded me of Malcolm Gladwell's Outliers. I was productive with my school work today.

Today I sat between Boniface and Benedict on the other side of the church. It was a different experience. I heard an excellent sermon today on Mark 2, and enjoyed the readings in Isaiah and 2 Corinthians. I read 8 chapters in Exodus this morning before church. There's something to be said and just reading through the Bible. God is very present in the text. He's right there; it's impossible to miss him. But the Hebrews do, the Egyptians do, and I do. It's ridiculous to hear Moses argue with God about needing somebody to speak for him. It reminded him of Despereaux.

I still haven't nailed down what I should do for Lent. It will come... probably when I speak with my Spiritual Director tomorrow. I need to chat with him about creating some quiet in my life. I miss time to sit. I'm going to be one gleeful octagenarian.

I chatted with my friend in Germany. He wasn't as upbeat as usual; he was only a 9 on a scale of 10. I love talking to him because he listened to me chat about the Atlantic article and Outliers. He even interacted. And, he told me about Berlin and Prague. He met an American girl in Berlin and they chummed around the 4 day weekend. That'd be a cool way to meet someone. N's adventures, coupled with reading God's presence and action in Exodus, give me hope that I could meet somebody during a random expedition to the library or craft store. I feel like any hopes of amazing friendships with people my age and a romantic relationship is miniscule due to my geographics. But, I'm thinking puny thoughts when I think this, God is big, good and gracious.

I could not care less about the Oscars this year. It's so phoney maroney. It's a hoax, folks.

grudge match: brahms v. beethoven

Tonight a colleague and I went to the Symphony. The first half was a Brahms Symphony-- I believe the third of the four he wrote. He wrote in a single summer. The critics refer to it as a "spring" symphony. After intermission, they played Beethoven's Fifth. I was humming the iconic four notes all day in anticipation. The juxtaposition of the two symphonies did Brahms' no favor. It was cute vs. magnificent. The music solidified my distaste for the people and sub-cultures that employ "cute" and "nice" as compliments. It made me think about how I (and we) settle for the mediocre in lieu of the best. Brahms would have been nothing special... but okay. A person who listened to that symphony alone could draw the conclusion that classical music is lame. How does one even discover Beethoven (or Bach) to realize her appreciation for classical music? There are a lot of parallels to consider with this phenomenon. Christian subculture fawns at the altar of mediocrity because ambition and dedication are considered tacky. Listen to these two symphonies in one sitting and come out with a single evaluation that favors the Brahms, and I'll write an ode to all things mediocre.

worry

On my way home from school I read Spencer Mountain Baptist Church's marquis. This week it exclaims "Worry is the misuse of imagination." Most of the time these bumper-sticker worthy slogans make me smirk or grimace. This one, however, got me thinking. I'd like to take it a step further: Worry is the abuse of imagination. Worry is a distortion of an amazing gift. Imagination is a manifestation of our humaness, our imago dei. Imagination provides so much delight and fun. Our capacity for language, story and abstraction are mirrored in no other facet of the natural world. Creativity is God's image on us in the same manner Caesar's was on the coin the Pharisee handed Jesus. We are God's.

Yet, I worry. Autonomy sucks joy out of life. It's as CSL says that God doesn't worry about our desires being too big but rather that they are too small. We're content with drink, sex and ambition in lieu of unending joy. Heck, I'd take CSL down a notch: I settle for a sense of security.

Tonight at small group we discussed more shattered dreams. But, what stood out to me was relinquishing control and diving into faith is a quotidian act. It sounds so sexy like quitting my job and moving to El Salvador, but it's probably a lot more like staying in my job, learning how to bite my tongue, and writing just because I enjoy it.

I've also realized that I enjoy planning and teaching Social Studies more than I do Language Arts. I was chatting with the Chief about this and pointed out the problem with Language Arts. It covers everything. She said she used to answer the question: "What do you teach?" with "Life." As somebody who finds laundry overwhelming, you can see why I might find "everything" daunting. This is good to figure out. Plus, I equate over analysis of poetry with vivisection. I know 7th grade and the rural school aren't the best fits for me, but I have no clue how or where to go next. No need to worry, right?

Evangelists then Career Day then Ash Wed

Until 7pm last night, the highlight of my day had been my Excel 08 workshop. Good thing Ravi Zacharias and Stuart McAlister rolled into town. Dr. Zacharias and Mr. McAlister gave stimulating talks to a full audience. Zacharias' erudition is a sheer pleasure to experience. His vocabulary and the range of his quotations is fun. Their world view is so reassuring because it runs parallel with mine (haha): thoughts such as "ideas have consequences" and "the logic of unforgiveness". The speeches had an almost deceptive fluidity-- the marks of adroit wordsmiths. Moreover, their intellectual prowess is in service of a God and Church they obviously love rather than mental gymnastics. No place would I have rather been last night. Plus, I snagged really good seats-- the perfect neighbors for this kind of evening.

Today was Career Day at my middle school. An acquaintance came to introduce them to Urban Design. He did a great job: a solid presentation with lots of pictures, lots of information and ideas, and a fun drawing exercise. Apparently, he wasn't as cool as the police man with a Tazer or as sexy as the fireman or as nice as the hairstylist who gave out free shampoo samples, but the kids enjoyed him and stayed engaged. This is no mean feat with 7th graders. Unfortunately, the kid I most had in mind when I invited the UD guy was suspended for breaking a another kid's nose. This kid, alleged nose-breaker, loves to draw and is crazy keen, but he has a temper and a cruddy home life. C'est la vie. God is in control. I just had to ignore the pettiness among the 7th grade teachers throughout the Career Day; I think spending years with 7th graders has worn off on them (note to self). Within twenty minutes, they changed the schedule twice.

I'm excited about my lesson plans for the next couple of days: poetry, paragraphs, African masks and symbolism. Unfortunately, interims go out tomorrow as well. I hate all the administration that goes along with teaching. I don't think I'd mind the grading if my classes were around twenty. Today they were around 20 due to suspensions and illness.

Thursday night I'm busy from 5-9:30pm, Friday I'm catching Beethoven's Fifth at 8pm in the Blumenthal and Saturday I'm chatting up "Life Together" at 10am. There's no rest (or exercise) for the weary. Next Wednesday is Ash Wednesday, and I need to plan my Lent strategy. What do I give up and what do I add? Reading Bonhoeffer really underlined the importance of Scripture to the health of a Christian as did Zacharias. Hmm. I tend to get overzealous with my Lent proposals so I need to pick attainable and edifying. Self-discipline in my life is service to the church according to Dietrich. Fair enough. Now, I'm off to grade, record grades, watch ACC basketball and finish up my homework for my small group.

Meet Tiberius

I've been obnoxious with my dog fixation. I want a dog, a Hungarian Visla or Rhodesian Ridgeback to be precise, even though I don't have the time or the money for such a dog. So, the Chief, as funny as she is, got me this little Valentine pup to tide me over until the time for a real one comes. I think I'll name him Tiberius. A name when in size 36 font is longer than he. It was between Demosthenes and Tiberius. I chose Tiberius because it's Roman, rugged and breaks into a knickname more easily. Trust me, he's a keeper: he's plush and has a solid world view. His politics are sound as are his view of the human condition. Really, the two go hand in hand.

Today, I sent a lot of kids to Redirect. They got 3 checks beside their name. I've been a little timid about sending them because the principal publishes a public record as a shaming technique. But, I was talking it over with the Chief, she told me, that repeat customers is evidence of the ineffectiveness of "Redirect" rather than your classroom management. So, I'm sure I'll gain the repercussions of making a lazy person earn his keep, but it shaped up the other kids.

I figured out the logistics of keeping my job via Lateral Entry. I have to take two classes that will cost me $650 each-- the School District will reimburse me for $400. So, that puts me back $900. I need to figure out other funding besides my savings. Teaching is an expensive job. My sister calls me the professional volunteer. She makes 3.5 times what I make with the same amount of education and hours worked. C'est la vie. My one consolation is tax bracket. I don't even get the consolation of looking down on business thanks to my family and Regent education. All vocations are equal in my sight. We all serve the same God and our different parts of the same Body. I think people who feel self-righteous either for taking the high road or for making lots of money are errant. We are all called to different tasks even in different seasons. All this said, money confounds me. I'm slowly learning how to deal with and respect it.

It's gotten cold again, which has contributed to me getting caught up with my grading.

valentine flowers & quilts & highlights

My brother sent my mom a bouquet. An elegant bouquet: roses, lilies, snazzy greenery, no carnations, no baby's breath. It was a proud moment to see what a fine young man my little brother has become. A) He sent flowers to his mom on Valentine's. B) He sent a classy bouquet-- it even smells good. My mom always jokes that J-D grew up with three moms because of my sister and me. I have to say that we did a good job: the boy is quality.


Because of J-D's bouquet and my budget, I took a different flower angle. I took Mom to lunch and the botanical garden. We had a good time and remarked how beautiful it will be in a couple of weeks. All these little green shoots are appearing in the beds. And, the crocuses have blossomed. I keep hoping for snow, but seeing the flowers worries me-- I don't want them to freeze.

Plus there was a quilt show at the garden. There were quilts of varying skill levels. This one was my absolute favorite. It's so imaginative and makes me think of my friends who make paper cranes. This quilt feels like a children's story to me. (I like how the garden encourages artists of all kinds; there was a photography contest as well. Beauty begets beauty. We are made in the image of our Maker.)

My theological book club kicks off this Saturday! I'm excited and a little nervous. It's going to be a small group this month, but I have 3 more slated to come in March. I hope it'll be fun, encouraging and challenging. We're going to discuss Bonhoeffer's Life Together. I had tremendous difficulty sending both emails to the group. I don't know if that's a sign of my technical ineptness or a little spiritual tackiness. Please pray if you have some spare intercession time.

I'm starting to teach poetry this week. Woohoo. I'm excited but know I shouldn't be because my kids hate it (and me). And, I need more ideas on how to teach South Africa. Last Friday, a girl asked me, "Why are we studying all these black people?" I answered, "Because we're studying Africa."

dog mohawks

I got highlights today because my sewing date fell through due to diarrhea. It took f-o-r-e-v-e-r at the Aveda Institute. It looks "natural". And, my magician told me that she practiced on her dog's mohawk. He's part chichauhau/shitzu. Micro animal testing. The idea has kept me entertained ever since she told me. This factoid was much needed for my craptastic mood. And, I went looking at office space with my aunt and got lectured that I need to marry well. Good times. Then, I alphabetized. Now you can see why the dog mohawk was a highlight.

drum the hum

Humdrum. I loved my lessons today but was in the minority. I caved to holiday fever and discussed Valentine's in both Language Arts and Social Studies. In Language Arts, I introduced them to some Shakespeare's Sonnets (130 and 116 if there is an afficionado in the crowd). Surprise: they preferred the humorous one. "Breasts" provided about 2 minutes of entertainment in each block. I told them he was referring to her skin, but they'd buy none of that. And, it proved a sly introduction to poetry.

The novel I found set in Nigeria isn't as popular as the DiCamillo books I read. But, I'm realizing that I will meet whining, wheedling and complaining at every juncture in 7th-grade land. I think some of my students would break into hives if they accidentally admitted to liking something in class. (This year of teaching is showing me how insulated I was from the reality of my profound nerdiness-- thanks to AG, prep school and the Classics Department, I never had to look my nerdiness in the eye. I could always consider myself "normal". Ha.)

Oh, my SS lesson was a bit disjointed much like my transition to the Nigerian novel in the above paragraph. We looked at the life of a 12 year old boy, Arnold, in a township outside of Cape Town, and the origins and facts of St. Valentine's Day. Flexibility is key: post-Apartheid South Africa and Ancient Rome match in the same manner as chartreuse and magenta. Think Jamz. But, they soaked up the information. The room got quiet and still. But, pandemonium is never far away. Things might get boring otherwise.

After school, I bought my right front wheel bearing, which was one sexy purchase. As I browsed at this cute boutique in walking distance from the repair shop, I thought why buy a dress when I can spring for a bearing. Furthermore, it made me glad I'm learning to sew because I didn't feel obligated to like anything. I realized that if I keep at it, I will literally develop my own style independent of the fashion magazines to which I was addicted since I was about thirteen.

I treated my mom to a port-a-chicken picnic; the band had a fundraiser and I was stranded do the maintenance. We had a good time. It's a blessing and a curse to enjoy one's family so much. I don't push past my comfort zone to meet new people.

Then I went to Vespers and was early enough to chat with another lady who attends regularly (apparently daily). She teaches at the college and lives down the street. Maybe, one day I will have that kind of cool life. I dozed a bit during the chanting and reading, but the sacredness of space and time and habit still affected me (I hope). And, I got a lot out of the small group meeting last night. Christian community is hard... and good.

Now, I'm watching Love Actually and preparing for bed. Tomorrow's a big day: I sew and grade!

bungled

I stayed out today: the first day I've taken off since August 13th. I graded and recorded grades for six hours; it was grueling but worth it. I was getting so stressed out with the papers hanging over my head. So, I decided to take today to stop the insomnia and useless worrying. My Saturday is booked (if that natural question popped into your head), and interims go out next Thursday. It's crunch time, and I was getting crunched. Then, I went to Wal-Mart tonight to pick up some candy for my students and ran into my most snarky one. Oh, goody. "Hi, Ms. M," she said as she scurried down the aisle. Awesome. Still feelings of guilt aggravate me even though I skipped work to work. Oh, not to be so high strung!

Last night I enjoyed Frost/Nixon with Stacy Keech. I had done no research on what it was about wasn't enthused about going. But, I enjoyed it thoroughly. There's some elusive transaction that happens with live theater. The writing, acting and staging were excellent. Both Frost and Nixon were developed as tragic figures. Apparently on NPR, Keech made comparisons between Nixon and King Lear. (Keech is playing Lear next-- perhaps it was just a plug.) And, it was an adventure parking. I thought the show started at 8pm, so I was taking my time. My friend was making remarks about it being tacky to be late to a play, and I was agreeing with her. Then, C said, "It starts at 7:30." I apologized as I kicked it into high gear. The Dunhill had parking for five dollars.

Battle of the Blues: Last night the crestfallen carpet baggers crawling out of Cameron warmed my heart. They looked so deflated without their snears. Too bad, they won't high-tail it back to New Jersey, their natural habitat. Go Heels! Go North Carolina!

feast day of st. scholastica

Brutal is the word of the day. I met with my mentor at 7:30am and my spiritual director at 7:30pm. I had a peer observation after my teammate sent my afternoon block over with 5 oreos each. (I think I'm giving out Valentine candy Friday. Touche.)) I got really encouraging feedback; she told me that it was one of the best lessons she'd seen in years. I sent four kids to the principal's office (one got ISS and another got 3 days OSS). I went to get my oil changed and make sure that the weird noise isn't going to kill me. It's not. It's my right front wheel bearing and is scheduled to be fixed Friday.

Feast days are festive at my monastary. We chanted Psalms 111, 112, and 113; there were no laments. And, Scholastica was Benedict's sister so she's the monastary's patron saint. The final prayer was quite good about our voices matching our minds and hearts. And, having the grace to bear one another's infirmities both of body and character. I came away wanting to get up earlier in the morning to have some Scripture time. So I need to go to bed.

Tomorrow night I'm going to see Frost/Nixon live at the Blumenthal. I thought it was next week so I was confused and a little overwhelmed. I'm a busy bee, and it doesn't suit me one bit. I crave way more down time than I'm getting. I remember when I was unemployed wishing I could bottle the time for when I needed it-- this would be a time I'd open a bottle of chillax. It's just when I get this busy, I feel to thinly spread.

snapshots from the field

While I'm at it. Here are some notable interchanges I've had over the past week.

Last night around 11pm on the phone with my brother:

"I've been thinking about our lifespan. All our grandparents lived past 80. That put's me at a lifespan of over 90. It's a lot and a little bit..." I keep on pontificating.
My brother gently interrupts me, "Well, that's nice, but how about you think about your alarm clock going off at 5:30 tomorrow morning. That might be a little more helpful."
"You've got a point," I respond, and we wrap up the conversation.

After teaching a map exercise on South Africa and North Carolina while modelling Apartheid-like discrimination with the allocation of resources (rulers and calculators), I chatted with one of my habitual problem kids:

"Hey, J, why didn't you do any work today?" I ask as he's washing his hands for God knows what reason.
"You weren't fair," he said with as much earnestness as he is capable of mustering.
"When?" I ask.
"You didn't give me a ruler," he said.
"I know, it was part of the lesson," I said,
"It still wasn't fair."

Last week on a phone call with a parent:

"You know what I think the worst thing that happened to the US?" he asks.
"What?" I play along.
"Political Correctness," he said.

(This one's had me thinking all week. It makes me think of Thucydides and Jim Crow and the 19th Amendment and modern liberalism. It also makes me want to write a novel. Sometimes, I feel this year I'm collecting characters to populate novels for the rest of my life. At least, that's what I tell myself to inject some humor into a day like today. Yes, apparently, I had a hole in my dress around my ass today. I cannot think of a better audience than 7th graders for that kind of embarrassment.)

Tonight on the phone with Mand:

"They were so ridiculously pretentious, which is so annoying," I say.
She laughs at me.
"It's not like they're my kind of pretentious," I continue. "My kind of pretentious is endearing and entertaining."

frayed, worn, chipped, weathered

Here's to things old and worn. On Friday, I reached 250,000 miles on my 1993 Corolla wagon. I'm hoping it'll last until at least 300k. My only complaint is that the paint is pealing-- that it's ugly. But, it's a fabulous car. It was given to me. It's got pick up and lots of storage space. It produces warm heat and cold AC. So what the driver's window doesn't roll back up and there are no airbags. Details.

My computer is ancient in IT terms, but I can't stomach the idea of throwing her away. Apple doesn't recycle; that lacks good morals. I'm gonna walk this puppy till I have to put her to sleep.

Me. Frayed, worn, chipped and weathered describes me. I came home from work deflated and worn out. I was tempted to take a nap, but 6:30 is a bit late for "resting" when one goes to bed shortly after 10 (one hopes).

New and old: I just ordered two used books on paperbackswap.com: Shizoku Endo's Silence and David Brooks' "Bobos in Paradise". I've read both but wish I had them around to reference. I love Brooks' chapter/essay on modern religion-- his concept of flexidoxy. And, Endo's Silence is lovely, stark and reminds me of Graham Greene's "The Power and the Glory".

And, I should admit to my harried self chillaxin' to Bach and a glass of red wine after a phone call from an old friend. Both have long histories and consequently can be shoved under "old". (Old things fit a little more loosely, right?) And, I'm going to read in lieu of grade. I bet none of my loyal readers saw that one coming.

The moon was lovely this morning on my drive to work. I'm enjoying my commute to work now that I get to welcome in the day. It reminds me of rowing practice and seeing the sunrise in increments during pieces. And, I enjoyed the sunset on the way home. Things get no older than sunrise and sunset, but they're still exciting.

(do you see the bird in my picture from yesterday's shennanigans?)

p.s.

I hate the stimulus plan because I think it's stupid. Creating jobs for how long? A job could consist of one week or five years-- and the jobs are estimated to cost 100k a piece. It's a stab in the dark with a lot of pork (dead pig--i.e., it's already been stabbed) rolling around. Repeat after me, "Inflation." This is just another reason to move to Canada. At least with their hairbrain policies, I could laugh and not feel disappointed. I could say, "Silly, silly Canucks!" Unfortunately with the US, I have to use the first person plural (we) whenever I reference the evil, ridiculous shenanigans WE pull. Kyrios Elieson: FOCA. Supreme Court (judicial prudence). To me, foreign policy is secondary to state-subsidized infanticide. Call me a crazy Republican. I should clarify: when I said I hope Obama is successful, I meant I hope he doesn't run the US into the ground. I'm proud that there is a black man in office; unfortunately, it's a black man who's a politician versus a statesman. Perhaps, integrity went out of fashion with our infatuation with postmodernity. Clearly, there's a philosophical difference, differing world views, between the parties that few people are willing to admit or address. Orthodox Christianity is so tacky. Go, emerging church. Tell people what they want to hear rather than what they need to hear.

Whimsy on the 5th Sunday of Ordinary Time

I got up an hour after my alarm clock sounded and still managed to get to church ten minutes early. I chose a seat under St. Patrick's watchful eye. The sermon was on Job and Matthew; it stabbed my heart, matching what I read last night about work in Life Together.

I enjoy the sacred calendar's humor with the long haul of ordinary time. It meets me where I am emotionally: blah land. Oh, how I long for special time, but we're sanctified through the ordinary. Here are verses 2 and 3 from "O Christ, the Healer":

"From every ailment flesh endures
Our bodies clamor to be freed;
Yet in our hearts we would confess
That wholeness is our deepest need.

"How strong, O Lord, are our desires,
How weak our knowledge of ourselves
Release in us those healing truths
Unconscious pride resists or shelves."

This song was a reminder of Truth in the midst of the self-absorption that we term "post modernity" to relinquish our responsibility for our thought patterns. I love how we justify evil thought patterns, lifestyles and habits through one abstract phrase. I loved when a theologian referred to post modernity as a mood (I'd say a bad mood); how right he was.


On my way home, I turned left instead of my normal right and ended up at Daniel Stowe Botanical Gardens. It was a fabulous sidetrack. I went ahead and joined the Garden; it's tax deductable and would provide a good Saturday and Sunday afternoon activity. Plus, if I bring friends, they get half off admission (let me know if you'd like to go with me). They're spotlighting orchids, which I love, and were having a bridal showcase, which meant a lot of free food-- good free food. Well, technically speaking it wasn't free, but close enough. I had no idea about the bridal showcase, but it was was festive to have all the musicians and caterers etc. At first, I was trying to be noble and not sample any of the food, but the vendors assumed I was a bride (and it's hard to control other people's assumptions).

So, I sampled and had a lot of fun witnessing the infamous bridezillas in action. My theory that weddings/marriage is an industry that provides a lot of income for these vendors and divorce lawyers was substantiated by all the hoopla. You'd never guess that a wedding was about a marriage from all the crap. That said, it was lovely and delicious crap. The guy who made me shrimp and grits was from Rochester, New York.

This was my favorite orchid. Notice how it has some water in its cup. How gorgeous and fabulous is that?

Then I ended up taking Virg to Charlotte and out for chilidogs, fries and a fountain coke tonight. I still have so much work to do, but the papers will get graded. Whereas, Virg is 86 and won't always be up for a ride on a lovely spring afternoon. There's a time when the theology one reads should metabolize into action, eh? Today's flowers and people were a reminder of how extraordinary our ordinary is. We're surrounded by the goodness of God.

A Satisfying Saturday

After slaving away another four hours this morning, my vest still isn't finished. The side seams and buttons are left to do. Princess seams are the culprit. They make for an excellent fit but make you earn it. I went over to Geneva's at ten, but I woke up at 7:30. I got up, made a pot of coffee, and read Life Together and Romans. It was a civilized and mature way to muscle through a Saturday morning. When the Chief arose, I showered and got ready to go over to the sewing den. I had to abort the mission due to hunger pangs. I devoured a cheeseburger while Geneva and The Chief munched on salads.

This afternoon validated my devotion to my mailbox. (Chief makes fun of me: "What did you GET today?!?") My mailbox has been a cornucopia of goodness the past two days. Yesterday I received a postcard from London. Today it brimmed with a international Valentine's package full of designer chocolates (mostly dark) and a paperswap book, A Trip to Vanity Fair.

I napped, ironed and walked. I watched some of the UNC game. Then, I settled down at the dining table with a goblet of red wine and two sets of Central Africa tests. Now, I'll read more of Bonhoeffer. This is my definition of a satisfying Saturday.

How do you like my new digital camera? It's pink.

anticipation

So, I was feeling like a total dork: it's Friday night and I bought a digital camera, graded papers at a coffee shop, ate dinner with my mother and some of her friends (who I dearly love), and am reading the book for my spiritual theology reading club. Yea, I know what you're thinking: this sounds just like that "Sex and the City" episode where Samantha... (hahaha.) Anyway, I earned all my sensations of dorkiness. But, I didn't mind the loserness when I mined these gems. I vaguely remember the quotations from other times I've read the book, but, golly gee, Bonhoeffer's good stuff. Here are the quotations from Bonhoeffer's Life Together that quelled my shame about my utter dorkfestation:

"What is important is not that God is a spectator and participant in our life today, but that we attentive listeners and participants in God's action and sacred story, the story of Christ on earth. God is with us today only as long as we are there. A complete reversal occurs here. It is not that God's presence and help have been demonstrated for us in the life of Jesus Christ. It is in fact more important for us to know what God did to Israel, in God's son Jesus Christ, than to discover what God intends for us today. The fact that Jesus Christ died is more important than the fact that I will die.... What we call our life, our troubles and our guilt is by no means the whole of reality; our life, our need, our guilt, and our deliverance are there in the Scriptures" (47).

"... prayer is not a matter of a unique pouring out of the human heart in need or joy, but an unbroken, indeed continuous, process of learning, appropriating and impressing God's will in Jesus Christ in our mind." (44)

Am I right? Aren't these good stuff? I'm excited to get to chat this book up with other people!

are you as smart as a 7th grader?

Here's my quiz on Central Africa:
Name five countries in Central Africa?

What ocean does Central Africa border?

What is Central Africa’s major river?

What type of climate covers the largest part of central Africa?

How do most people in Central Africa support themselves and why?

What are the two most important health concerns (diseases) in Central Africa?


How are cell phones changing the Democratic Republic of the Congo, especially concerning new business and travel? (be specific)




What caused Henry Stanley to shoot at the Africans, according to his diary? (be specific)

Why are Central African countries’ official languages European when most Central Africans speak forms of Bantu?

What are two causes of the war in Central Africa?

What religion do most Central Africans practice?

What impact does longitude and latitude have on Central Africa?

Here's my grammar/lit quiz:

Add the correct punctuation to this business greeting.
To Whom It May Concern_

Circle the cause and underline the effect.
I was late to school because I tripped over my dog and broke my toe.

What is the root or base word?
effective __________
prehistoric _________

Synonyms, antonyms or homophones?
build, billed ___________
move, sway __________
humid, arid ___________


Combine these sentences into a single sentence.
UNC was ranked number one for seven weeks. Duke was ranked number one for one week. ______________________________________________________________________________________________________________


Write the past tense for each verb.
am _______
come _________
do _________
eat ________
see _________

Circle the subject and underline the predicate. If it’s not a sentence, write “ns” beside it.
The dog ate my homework.
I am feeling sick.
When I was eight.
Dancing is good exercise.
Although the party started at eight.
Brooke smiled.
Before he jumped.

Finish the analogy.
minute: clock :: inch: _________

president: democracy :: __________: monarchy

Mexico: North America :: _________: Africa

Circle the prefix or suffix in the word, then circle “s” for suffix or “p” for prefix?
misunderstand p or s
slowly p or s
bigger p or s
rethink p or s

Correct these sentence.
the waitress said to day we have raspberrys strawberrys and blackberrys


Correct this mailing address.
132 w main str
paris tx 98703

What are the three necessary components of a paragraph?
1. _____________ 2. _________________ 3. ________________

What are the two parts of a clause?
1. ______________ 2. ___________________

What are the two types of clauses?
1. ______________ 2. _________________

comfort (food)

it all started when I overslept. I awoke ten minutes before I normally leave, but I left within my window of acceptability (6:30-6:45 am). I didn't drink coffee, and my hair looked particularly odd. Then we had intermurals in lieu of homeroom. I got miffed at my students because they were being completely half-assed (how's that for an oxymoron?). I yanked their buts off the court, and took them to homeroom. We watched the announcements instead. Apparently, it's okay to let your kids lack enthusiasm, but they were lying to me about who had gone. That's inexcusable.

And, my projector stopped projecting due to this kid "adjusting" it; he took out my computer monitor and the projector in less than ten seconds. I asked, "What did you do?" "I dunno," he replied earnestly. It's easy to believe him ever time he says 'dunno'.

So, in lieu of watching the video segment about sentence structure we turned to p. 1009; yeh, my kids were psyched. I made them work with the book even when the projector was up and running (it took about ten minutes). The point was the same: the book's version was more frumpy. They were half-assed with this sentence combining exercise. I made the one's who couldn't bother to do it to stay after until they finished it.

My day continued frollicking down Entropy Lane. My social studies lesson was dismal. In case you were wondering, 7th graders aren't fascinated by civil war in the Congo. I hope somebody learns from my failures. I thought it was awesome: three wars rolled into one (ethnic, international and civil). I was so very wrong. Drawing and comparing River Basins is way cooler. FYI.

But, afterschool I tutored some kids (two of my students pro bono and a 4th grader for $), and felt that I'm not the world's worst teacher. Hanibal Lector is. I went home and ate baked spaghetti, garlic bread, salad and coconut cake. I'm going to be a heftier person come tomorrow morning.

While I was planning LA, I found this amazing website with tons of downloadable short stories, www.short-stories.co.uk. We're talking Jack London, Oscar Wilde, Katherine Mansfield, and many more. The internets rawk! We're going to read "The Selfish Giant" by Oscar Wilde tomorrow. It has a Christian ending, which surprised me. I found the ending oddly satisfying and ironic. It didn't feel deus ex machina to me; although, it was. Wilde is such a charming and moral writer. I never bore of him.

schmetails

The glow from the two-hour delay waned by the time the faculty meeting ended. I've worked 12 hours today. I wrote two tests. I did some planning; it was frustrating because the computer lab and library was booked all week by an 8th grade teacher. But, I have to say my past couple weeks of lessons have been technologically savvy and germain. And, I did a lot of email and phone calls.

Tonight I signed up for the half marathon on Vancouver Island in June. But, I couldn't locate my passport. I'm worried it's not in date. Finding it is on my TDL. Maybe, this chunk of change will get me to the gym. For instance, today I was at school until six. Ate dinner at seven. And worked from 7:30 to 10pm. I'm simply going to have to schedule it. But, next week is uber busy and the week after that. Man, oh, man. Maybe, I should just say no fast food and soda. I'm going to have to work on Saturday mornings before I go to sew.

It's a good day to be a UNC fan: Duke and Wake Forest lost tonight.

excitement galore, running nerds

Today whirled by. I'm regularly smacked in the face with how long administrative tasks take me. I spent all day scoring the writing papers. They're supposed to take less than 10 minutes a piece, but that's for people who've been at this type of thing for twenty years. I was scoring conventions, content and form for 65 essays. I'm at the point where I have to look at an essay three times. It's easy to grade the really fantastic and the truly craptastic. The shades are gray are where it gets tricky. And, I probably graded harshly. Then, there was making the folders, filling out each form, and posting the grades in the state-wide network. Good times. I celebrated entering the last score by vacuuming. That's excitement, folks.

But, I did learn some things I want to target in my writing lessons. Few tackled the why and so what aspect of their solution. They are firmly grounded in the what and how. I'm reading a book about teaching complex thinking (that's the PC way of saying "higher-level thinking skills"-- you don't want to insult "knowledge" with calling "evaluation" better). Metacognition fascinates me, and I need to figure out how to get my kids to think. Most of them get agitated if a problem can't be solved instantaneously... if the answer isn't a direct quote from a book. I frustrate some of my kids. Of course, abstract thinking becomes possible around 11 years old, and most of my students are 12 and 13. I need to give them a break; they're new to this.

I'm loving what I'm teaching right now. It's fun and engaging. Yet, there's still a region of my soul that's panicky and weepy, nagging me with the question, "is this it?' So, I read, I pray, I write, I run. I think the ache stems from self-centeredness but something more fundamental too. We are made in the image of God; that's weighty, powerful stuff. And, here I am learning how to sew and engage 30 7th graders for 90 minute blocks. It's as if I'm geared to focus on the mundanity rather than the glory. "The world/ is a holy vision, had we clarity/ to see it-- a clarity that men/ depend on men to make" (Wendell Berry). It takes art and friends for me to renew the awe of the holy vision that rests in the routine moments.

All this rooting around in existential angst to say, I need to manufacture some adventure in my boring life. There's nothing wrong with the quotidian, but one can still drown in it. So, I'm planning my spring break (Washington, DC, I think) and my half marathon (edge to edge on Vancouver Island). The picture at the top is from my last visit to Tofino. I'm considering these two adventures my 30th birthday parties. One's a month before and one's a month after. Perfect parties. Since I have so few friends in this neck of the woods, the mountain will move to Mohammed.

My sister, a big fan of mental and physical toughness, never allows me to wallow for long. She asks me my plan and goals. So, ha, I beat you to your punch... kind of. On New Year's, she told me that I needed to start planning my birthday fete. These extravaganzas might even be big enough to impress her. Ha.

wobble

I watched "Last Kiss" with Zach Braff just now, and it's a Monday night. I'm wild and crazy like that. The flick is thought-provoking in an almost suffocating way. Life is lots of gray. It was a hard movie to watch: slow and painful. The characters are very believable. And, the theme of a crisis at one's 30th birthday seemed relevant when I bought it. There's a strong family (or theme) resemblence between it and Garden State. My brother has never watched Garden State all the way through... and he's tried several times. I took several breaks tonight, but always came back. When I watch or read movies or books with these themes and worldview, I'm so glad I can pray to a God who listens. I always agree with their portrait, but I just there's more than what meets the eye. And, I can deal with this starkness better than forced, unearned happy endings. I think the Christian world view is remarkably spacious thanks to the doctrines of sin and creation. We don't need to be shy around depravity or beauty. As for the movie, I recommend it with some reservation. There's gratuitous sex scenes and it shows a lot of unhappy relationships. But, it shows amazing friendship and raises pertinent questions. Not a good date movie, but maybe a good breakup movie. idk.

I'm not teaching tomorrow!! Even better, I'm staying home to grade writing assessments. I've been loaded down with this dread, and I've been putting it off (yes, the very behavior I chastize my students for). But, on Friday, my principal asked me if I'd like her to get me a substitute and take a day to grade them. I told her yes. I had a much better weekend knowing I had time to do it-- I didn't feel guilty going on a hike. I have ambitious plans for my day-- I don't think it'll take eight hours. But, knowing me, I might be working tomorrow night. We shall see.

As I walked, I realized as ambivalent as I am about my job that I'm happier engaged in a project (teaching 7th grade) than roaming in search mode. I'm more productive and emotionally balanced when working 50+ hours. Perhaps, this has to do with my Scottish genes.

swath of hodge podge

Church:

My spiritual director directed me to Church on Sundays. He told me he didn't care where, but I needed to worship somewhere on the Sabbath. He's not bossy, and this is the first time he's told me something to do. So, I worshipped at the Benedictine Church today. I arrived late, so I got to sit in the front row. The sermon was on worry, and how our lives are centered on things they shouldn't be. We like a kind, good God that's far away-- not too close. We don't want a God who interferes with our plans. I wouldn't know anything about that-- the Hebrews wanting a mediator/prophet because they were afraid they'd die in front of the living God. And, come to find out, we do die when come into relationship with Yahweh. They're on to something.

Hike:

It's a gorgeous day! I decided to celebrate it with a hike: me, the glorious weather, and Crowder's Mountain. It was a festive outing. My fellow hikers were cheery and chirpy. There were lots of puppy dogs exploring with their masters. One dog was carrying a pack. I told his owner, "I like to see a dog earning his keep." The owner just laughed, and the dog kept trotting. Lots of kiddoes asking, "Are we there yet?" and receiving motivational speeches from their caretakers. The hike made me realize that I need to kick my training up a couple of notches: my legs were wobbly after the measly two-hour hike. I need to throw some weight-training into the mix, longer runs and trail runs. I need to up my time in the pool too. The hike also made me excited for the half marathon (Edge to Edge) I'm going to run in June on Vancouver Island with M. It's going to be amazing. And, I need to get my booty in shape so I can thoroughly enjoy myself.

Planning:

After meeting with the Curriculum Specialist last week, I'm very excited and motivated. She helped me find these creative lesson plans to teach the African curriculum sans the boring, schmoring book. Yay! for me and my students. The book is drier than the Sahara we've already studied! Tomorrow I'm teaching on cell phones in the Democratic Republic of the Congo as a way to discuss economy and sociology of the region. I'm finding pictures on Google Images and gearing up. And, in English I'm teaching on Descriptive Writing with Columbia Spaceship crash. It should be a fun day. I just wish I had better crowd control-- I was not prepared for this large of classes and the immaturity and lack of motivation of my students. She's coming again this week, and we're going to plan my South Africa unit. These lessons are the kind of lessons I envisioned teaching, but with about half the students and all of them on grade level.

Super Bowl:

Go Cardinals!

Miscellaneous:

As you can tell, dear reader, I'm feeling rejuvenated. I was listening to some codger wax on about the Christian life and realized he had it all wrong. Holiness isn't about being good; holiness is about being completely and truly alive. Now, that's exciting! It's a surrender to Aslan not a consent to a dull, dreary life. Obedience to Aslan is adventure. Learning to love is going to be a lifelong pursuit for me.