Finally, EHT's priveledge meme, and some more CDs...
First, let's tackle the CDs...First, I would like to agree with Mrs. Chili about letting children listen to "regular" music...adult music. My children often listen to whatever I feel like listening to be it the Beach Boys, or Elvis Presley, or Three Doors Down, or whatever. The children's CDs I own are mine...which means I bought them for myself. All the CDs listed in my earlier post I bought because I like the groups. My Muppet CDs I owned before I had children. Same with the Animaniacs CD and my slew of Halloween CDs...each one having Monster Mash and Purple People Eater on it...
But be that as it may, having learned that They Might Be Giants put out Here Come the 123's last year, I ordered it from Amazon. Sure enough, it's a fun CD, though I learned it's connected to the new Mickey Mouse Club and there are 3 songs from it that disrupt the CD, if you ask me...Not that you did, I understand, but...well, let's move on. It also has a DVD of videos of the songs, although I haven't had the time yet to watch them. When I do, I'll let you know.
Also while ordering that CD I ordered something for myself. Mrs. Chili, over at A Teacher's Education, introduced to me the poet Taylor Mali and I bought one of his CDs, Conviction, which I greatly enjoyed. Mali has another CD that's been out for about 8 months called Icarus Airlines which I purchased. As with Conviction, all of the poems are wonderful, although there's a greater concentration of what I will puriley call downers. He includes several poems about his wife's suicide and while beautiful, they aren't the kind of things that I will want to listen to regularly. "The Miracle Workers" I promptly shared with my coworkers and all teachers should hear, or at least read, it. "Holding Your Position" is a great trip into youth, and "The Mascot of Monterey" lets you know where the title of the CD comes from. "Pizza" is wonderful, but not what you think it's about.
Ok, let's see...EHT's Privledge Meme...
To participate, copy and paste…then unbold my responses to make your own. Bold the items that apply to you:
1. Father went to college 2. Father finished college - University of South Carolina 3. Mother went to college 4. Mother finished college - Ditto 5. Have any relative who is an attorney, physician, or professor - Dad's a professor, have a sister who's a doctor 6. Were the same or higher class than your high school teachers. Same 7. Had more than 50 books in your childhood home. 8. Had more than 500 books in your childhood home. 9. Were read children’s books by a parent. 10. Had lessons of any kind before you turned 18 - Karate 11. Had more than two kinds of lessons before you turned 18 12. The people in the media who dress and talk like me are portrayed positively. - I suppose...depends...not consistently for sure 13. Had a credit card with your name on it before you turned 18. 14. Your parents (or a trust) paid for the majority of your college costs. 15. Your parents (or a trust) paid for all of your college costs 16. Went to a private high school 17. Went to summer camp 18. Had a private tutor before you turned 18 19. Family vacations involved staying at hotels - Not always, but enough 20. Your clothing was all bought new before you turned 18 21. Your parents bought you a car that was not a hand-me-down from them - technically, it wasn't called being purchased for me, it was treated like a hand-me-down, but in reality Dad drove the hand-me-down and I got the new car...So it counts as being purchsed for me, if you ask me... 22. There was original art in your house when you were a child 23. You and your family lived in a single-family house 24. Your parent(s) owned their own house or apartment before you left home - Dunno, I mean, he may have still been paying a mortgage...Probably counts as a yes anyway. 25. You had your own room as a child 26. You had a phone in your room before you turned 18 27. Participated in a SAT/ACT prep course (I don’t think they existed in the olden days) 28. Had your own TV in your room in high school - Bad idea, that was. 29. Owned a mutual fund or IRA in high school or college 30. Flew anywhere on a commercial airline before you turned 16 - Well, not anywhere...you mean somewhere... 31. Went on a cruise with your family 32. Went on more than one cruise with your family 33. Your parents took you to museums and art galleries as you grew up. 34. You were unaware of how much heating bills were for your family. - I'm not sure that not paying attention or being informed by parents should count...being oblivious doesn't mean privledged...
I certainly get what the meme is saying, though I hate the term privledged...Every family has its struggles. Not saying we had it as bad as others...just saying we're better off realizing all families have their troubles and money...privledge...doesn't take that away...
Oh, speaking of "The Miracle Workers"...here's Taylor Mali performing it...It's slightly different on the CD...he doesn't say "shit"...he loans a pencil instead of a pen...the audience is...better...but enjoy...
When you know the person involved, it's hard to just write something off as bigotry. See, Mr. Walker was my first principal as a professional teacher and I will say that if you told me to make a list of bigotted people, his name wouldn't appear on it. He treats people fairly...How does that mesh with this news? Well, he's not turning tail on a school and district with a gay/straight alliance club. He's fulfilling his contract and when the contract is up, he'll walk away. He says he was planning on sticking with Irmo High until 2010 and he's moved it one year earlier because he doesn't agree. He's damned if he does and he's damned if he doesn't. If he quits, he's a bigot. If he doesn't, he's not standing up for what he believes in and he wouldn't have to put up with people criticizing him, but he has to live with himself. He's a principal who wouldn't allow students to say "fuck you" to a teacher, but was understanding that some students don't come from a picket fence household. He's a good man, and he was a great principal. I may not agree with him, but I respect him.
But let's talk about whether or not I agree with him and let's leave the gay aspect out. I'm not sure I do disagree with his decision, though I suspect I do. I would need to know what the teacher sponsor of this club intended the purpose of the club to be. I'd also have to know what other clubs exist (I would say at the school, but if we have to talk about clubs in the whole district, fine). There are other clubs than curricular clubs, but I can only think of service clubs like Key Club or sports clubs. The reason I need to know about the clubs purpose is because if the club is just meant for socialization. Like minded people coming together to talk, and there are no other clubs that fit that one description, then I can see his point, even if he adds a sexual element that doesn't inherently exist. If there are political and/or religious groups that get together as a school club simply to discuss their views, then I agree that the gay/straight alliance club should be allowed. But if the clubs all have been academic, service, or sport related, then I see Mr. Walker's point. I want to hear what the teacher sponsor says is the purpose of the club.
My friend Mrs. Chili sponsors a gay/straight alliance club at her college, and I am curious about her point of view. I'm still trying to figure out my POV, myself.
Driving somewhere with the children can be a harrowing adventure. Random commentary about what passes by in the window ("Happy Meal Place! There's Bumblebee!" (Any yellow car after watching Transformers)), arguements about each other ("Bravo-Boy's bothering me!"), random songs often invented by the young singers, dropped items ("Whinnnnneeee...I dropped my juice, cookie, cracker, car, book, etc."), and that's just the tip of the whine-berg. So music is invaluable in giving them something else to focus on and me something else to listen to.
But...children's music...ugh. I mean cartoons and puppets and monotonous songs, oh my! This old man, he played one little duck ran over the hill to fetch a pail of water, Jill fell down the mountain when she comes, she'll be comin' round the mountain.....ARGH! It's no wonder the average parents are testy and seem a touch insane. The CIA has begun using what they call "Soccer Mom Immersion" for interrogating purposes...
CIA: "All right, Boris, where are the secret plans?" Boris: "I tell you nothink." CIA: "All right, load Boris into the van. Bring JIAs (Juvenile Intelligence Agents) Jake, Emma, Madison, and Brady. Give them chocolate chip cookies and juice boxes. Put in Wheels on the Bus and I'm a Little Teapot." Boris: "Nyet, nyet! I'll tell you everythink...everythink!!!!!"
Anyway, I digress...If that sounds familiar, without the international espionage of course, then let me see if I can help you out. I've come across a few CDs put together by popular bands for children.
I decided to blog about this after I purchsed the brand new release Snack Time by the Barenaked Ladies. It features 24 original children's songs, and they are very entertaining. If you follow the link above to Amazon, you can see a video of the first track "7 8 9" with a little something added to the end that's not on the CD. "The Ninjas" is a fun song about those deadly, silent, and unspeakably violent ninjas. "The Canadian Snacktime Trilogy", especially part II, "Popcorn" is wonderful...all the way to the end. Just a collection of fun and refreshing children's song.
The group They Might Be Giants has put out a few children's CDs like No!with highlights on "Where do they make balloons?", "John Lee Supertaster", "Clap Your Hands", and "Lazyhead and Sleepybones". They also have Here Come the ABC'swith "Alphabet of Nations", "E Eats Everything", "Pictures of Pandas Painting", "Alphabet Lost and Found", "Who Put the Alphabet in Alphabetical Order", and "LMNO". I just found out they also did Here Come the 123'swhich I missed and will be looking into.
On a slightly strange note, I was listening to my Blues Brothers CDs and it has their version of the Rawhide theme...which Delta-Boy loved and we had to listen to several times.
Roll 'em, Roll 'em, Roll 'em Keep them babies rollin' Though they're disapprovin', Rawhide!
Wonderful CD...CDs, actually. Two discs. 35 Songs. I've been greatly enjoying it. The best part happened yesterday. I was in my car pulling into a local grocery store when track 17 on disc 1 began playing. Track 17 is the Peter Gunn Theme. People were crossing the parking lor walking in time with the music. All of a sudden, everyone looked suspicious. I didn't know who I could trust. Those carts might be rigged with explosives. I better wait until I'm inside before I get a cart. I was so cool.
What was even better was leaving. I played it again. Now I was in the middle of Spy Hunter. That car behind me is going to try and ram me off the road...OIL SPILL! That guy trying to pass me is going to take out my tires with wheel spikes. HIGH GEAR! WHERE'S THE WEAPON'S VAN?
Is This Thing On? Why I disappeared, a book meme, and which general I was during the Civil War.
Hey guys...I swear, it seems like everytime I get blogging, something comes along and drives me away. While I've been gone I've:
...Finished a graduate course with an A. The course ended while I was still engrossed in bronchitis (stress the gross).
...Finished my third and final attempt at getting National Boards. I think I'll get it, but I thought it the last two times. I'm keeping all of my thoughts to myself until the results come in.
...Been tasked with cooking up lesson utilizing the new Smart Board installed in my room. Not, it was put up so low that I couldn't walk under the projection boom without hitting my head. The projection was crooked as well. They've come back and raised and straightened it, though.
...spoken on the phone with a parent who said her son was getting in trouble for petty things...ie. talking during and disrupting class. When my principal heard this, she called her in for a conference where she was a complete angel. I wanted to puke.
Over at History is Elementary, EHT posted an interesting Book Meme that she got from Eoin Purcell's Blog, which I admittedly haven't visited yet. I have a hard enough time visiting my blogs as it is (Sorry everybody, even those of you who don't realize I visit). Anyway, here be the rules...
1. Pick up the nearest book 2. Open to page 123 3. Find the fifth sentence 4. Post the next three sentences 5. Tag five people and acknowledge who tagged you
So, here we go..
1. Duma Key by Stephen King...My favorite writer. His most recent book. About a man who, after a mutilating accident, goes to the Florida Keys, specifically Duma Key, to get his life back together. But then, Duma's history has something to say.
2-4. "Part of Duma's development problem is simple overgrowth. The sea oats belong, but the rest of that shit has no business growing without irrigation. Somebody better investigate, that's what I think."
"My daughter and I went exploring one day..."
King uses a lot of foreshadowing in this one. It may not be more than usual as my memory of any book remains only with a plot summary, not with technique, but it seems that Duma Key has a lot of foreshadowing, which may be because one of the themes of the book is memory loss, so rather than Flashbacks, which I know he often uses for characterization, but with the memory loss theme, Flashbacks aren't as accessible...so Foreshadowing...Or I'm reading too much into it...Maybe si, maybe no.
Again, I wasn't tagged, but I swiped it from EHT at History is Elementary.
I tag: My wife Blue (whichever blog you want to put it on is fine, dear) Mrs. Chili over at A Teacher's Education My friend Amy (you haven't mentioned a blog, so I guess just post in my comments) SaintSeester over at Saint Seester Says... and Irrational over at Math Teacher's Notebook
One of the most misunderstood figures of the war, your campaign at Vicksburg was a work of military genius, but future generations will come to view you as a butcher who won by weight of numbers. Sorry 'bout that.
I'll take it...especially compared to the near miss I had with Sherman. I would not have been happy being named Sherman.......
EHT has another cool meme I'm going to do soon about privilege...I'll admit I'm not real thrilled about the tone of that word "privilege", but there are interesting questions there...
Oh, and before I forget...Soon I'll be revealing a forum my wife is helping me develop (which means I tell her what I'm looking for and she does it, cause she's computer savvy and I'm computer middlin'). It's focus is going to be on education and school, but I'll tell you more about it when it's up and running.
Introducing the new Parenting Awards...the LOFties
Work has provided me with several interesting stories about parents and the practice of labelling behaviors as mental illness.
I was in a meeting recently where we discussed what should be done about a student who was diagnosed with Disruptive Disorder. I asked, "So, there's a disorder now that makes us disrupt?" Ok, in meetings I know better than to ask questions like that, but I did ask, "What is Disruptive Disorder?" What I was told was that to be diagnosed with Disruptive Disorder, a person has to display certain behaviors like continual rule breaking, aggression, etc., and through testing doctors rule out other possible causes like ADHD and such. So I said, "So it's a catchall for when they can't figure out what's wrong?" I was told...yes.
Now, I don't want to say that that negates the disability and that it doesn't exist. I'm not going to say I necessarily understand what I was told, and maybe I was given the simple version since I'm just an English teacher. I am concerned, however, that psychiatrists are doling out the meds for behaviors which other children can display and then get rid of with effective discipline. I wonder how many children get labeled with ADHD, ODD, and other Disruptive Disorders (using Goggle, I learned that Disruptive Disorder is apparently a class of disorders) when they are just suffering from BADD, Behavior Absent Discipline Disorder.
I don't wonder this just because I feel that naming disorders for socially unacceptable behavior and medicating people who display these behaviors removes all personal responsibility, but as a teacher who has seen the child who has BADD and the parents that gave it to them. They use the Lord of the Flies parenting approach. Parents using the LOF approach feel that all a sentient being needs to become a good, upright, productive member of society is respect. They respect their boundaries by not getting too involved in their activities. They respect their privacy by not going through their rooms. They respect their individuality by letting them make their own decisions under the assumption that they will eventually learn how to make better decisions on their own. It doesn't work...
I spoke with one parent, again recently, although I've heard the message from many parents, who said, "Well, it's up to him to decide to behave. I've spoken with him until I'm blue in the face, but until he decides to make the right decision, he's going to just keep getting in trouble."
Ummm...no. See, that's LOF parenting. It's NOT his decision because he lives in YOUR house. He is a teenager barely. He doesn't know how to make decisions yet. He doesn't think about tomorrow much less 5 or 6 years from now when he's graduating from high school and has to make it in the world. You talk to him? My dad talked to me all the time about the importance of doing my homework and while I understood what he was saying and I agreed with him, I still didn't do my homework. At 33, I wish I had done my homework, but at 13, even though I understood and agreed, I didn't make the decision to do it. But then this is a parent who asked if he was the only one talking during class and if I've moved him away from the other students with whom he is speaking. No, he isn't always the only one talking, although sometimes he is, and even if others are talking, they all get in equal trouble, and yes he's been moved to the most isolated desk...still, no effect. But then if you would do more than talk, maybe he'd be a little more compliant. This parent wins my new parenting award for effective use of the Lord of the Flies Parenting Style, the LOFty.
Another parent, at a meeting about whether or not her child would stay with us or return to the home school, said, "Whether she stays here or goes back, she'll still just get in trouble." Well, mom, that's encouraging. I didn't get much information on her parenting style, but I would guess that she probably used a LOF type of discipline and at this point, has gotten frustrated that her child has not just started making responsible decisions. So rather than changing her style to one that is effective like knowing your child is capable of behaving and if she doesn't, then things are taken away like the phone, the tv, the mp3 player, etc., the parent gives up and makes degrading comments. This parent, too, wins a LOFty.
Now, I will say that I don't know how good a parenting job I will have done when all is said and done. I also know that some parents have a hard time monitoring their children and disciplining because they are single parents and/or have to work long, hard hours. I mean, how can you make sure your child doesn't watch TV when he gets home from school hours before you get home from work? Well, I know I'd deprive myself of the television to make a point. There's nothing that I would take from my children that I wouldn't eliminate from my life if necessary to reach my children...but that's just me.
This week, I've finally found acceptance among the cool kids. Ok, as a teacher, because brought in to the cool crowd should not be a high priority on my list, especially with the "in-group" being teenagers, but I'm still holding on to some of my feelings of isolation and embarassment from things like my middle school nickname of "Goob".
Well, it's the nicknames that have told me how accepted I've become. Like "Fucking Faggot". Isn't that nice? And I appreciate the use of alliteration there. It's a little long, though, and I'm not sure really applicable in describing who I am as a person. It's also a bit risque for school. I mean, ok I have 5 children, so referring to me as a bundle of sticks with a healthy sex life...I'm not sure I can allow that one to continue. Another student called me "Homo", which is great. I mean, "Homo" is a prefix meaning "the same"...so he was saying that I am the same as him...see, acceptance! Then one student called me "Little Bitch". That one certainly has the compliment of saying that I am not overweight, and "bitch" is a female dog. Well, they often call each other "dog". I guess the female reference is just a friendly jab. They're always making fun of each other in friendly ways. Also, clearly, "bitch" and "little" have assonance, so that's an appreciated langauge arts nod as well. I received one more nickname this week...well, I didn't receive it from my student, but he used it..."Asshole". It makes me wonder if he's reading my blog and was letting me know in an indirect manner.
So now I'm hanging with the popular kids, although they should probably settle on one nickname rather than everyone coming up with a different one. But they like me...they really like me. I'm just going to bask in the warm fuzzies of my new nicknames.
Well, this is Little Bitch Asshole saying, I'm in like Flynn!
Birthdays, bronchitis, and prepositions in need of a lift
I now have two 4-year-olds. TWO! My Sierra-Girl turned 4 on Saturday, and Zebra-Girl hasn't made it to 5. Of course, as clumsy as she is, it's no surprise her younger sister is catching up.
Right now I'm sitting at home feeling bad for two reasons. Reason #1: I have bronchitis. YAY! No energy, can't catch my breath, I got feverish Thursday and a little bit feverish Friday after visiting the doc...Luckily it hasn't been that bad since then.
Reason 2: I've been off from work now 2 days. I hate not being at work. I feel guilty because I know how much one person being out can affect things at the Alternate Reality School of Excellence (ARSE). I've already heard how things went to Hades in a wastebasket Friday. Expulsions galore. Now, I know it's egotistical and arrogant of me to think that had I been there, things would have gone differently...except a coworker told me a lot of it sprang from my room. Well, wonderful.
I also found out Friday, after the doc told me that I have bronchitis, that I have high blood pressure. Yay! I teach at ARSE, I live on an animal farm, and I have 5 children...How could I possibly have high blood pressure? He said, "It won't cause any problems until one day you have a stroke. So take a look at that when you get passed the bronchitis." Thanks, doc. That helped my blood pressure a lot. It's called a bedside manner. It doesn't mean you have to blow me, but at least whisper sweet nothings in my ear so I don't feel like my brain is going to get a crowbar and make itself an exit in the next week or so. This is why I don't go to doctors. That and ridiculous doctor bills.
I guess that's all for now.
Wait, wait...in honor of my good friend, Mrs. Chili, there's one more thing. I have the hardest time finding desk calenders that are any good. Word-of-the-Day calenders generally have too many words that I already know. Sex position calenders have IMPOSSIBLE positions...*cough*...so I hear. Cartoon/comic calenders, of course, have cartoons and comics I've already seen. I don't have enough time to complete some kind of puzzle every day, so that'd be a waste. This year I thought I'd try an Errors in the English calender clarifying common misspellings and little known mistakes. Well, it's been disappointing too.
Many of the mistakes I have never heard. If I've heard the mistake, then I already knew it was a mistake. But it took the cake when it made its own mistake. It was warning about doubling prepositions like, "Rico hated Henry, with whom he always fought with." Two "withs"...not necessary. The calender then says to remove either "with". Uh...no. See, that's a stranded preposition. If you wrote, "Rico hated Henry, whom he always fought with" then your preposition doesn't have an object. A preposition needs an object. I know this is a point of debate and some people say that these days it's an archaic rule. But I struggle everyday to watch my prepositions and the calender could have acknowledged the debate.
Finally, I made a video reviewing my bronchitis for my Chi of Cheese blog. Enjoy.
Monday was Delta-Boy's 6th birthday. He's been on a big Transformers kick, so I thought it would be cool to get him some real Transformers. Delta-Boy was very excited, but it didn't take THIS big kid to be disappointed in my son's gifts...Check out the quality of Scorponok and Longview from Hasbro's current Transformers line
When the Transformers first came out in 1984, they were sturdier. I remember thinking that some of the toys didn't quite want to transform the way they were supposed to transform, but I don't remember them breaking.
All toys seem to be higher quality back then. Sure, you'd lose your GI Joe guns and Masters of the Universe swords, but the action figures stayed together and you could pretend that they had weapons, or better yet your guys would fight hand-to-hand, which was always more exciting than using weapons.
Duke: "Stop, Cobra Commander, or I'll shoot you with my Sub-machine gun!"
Cobra Commander: "You can't ssstop me!"
Sub-Machine Gun: "Bratatatatatatatatatatat"
Cobra Commander: "Ahhhh...I'm mortally wounded. *cough cough* I ssshould have told Ssscarlet that these terrorissst activitiesss were just feeble attemptsss to get clossse to her. I never wasss any good with women. Uhhhhh *life expelling gasp*"
You know, it was much more fun without the guns, using the swivel grips to contort the figures into impossible wrestling positions, and throwing each other off the cliff, which was really the bed with the floor being the bottom of some canyon where the victim luckily didn't die and was ok enough to continue their epic battle.
I bought Delta-Boy some dragon toy where the dragon was wrapped in its wings like it was in an egg, and then you unfold the wings and you have a dragon. Well, the wings wouldn't stay on. It seemed similar to some of the Masters of the Universe toys in size and materials, but you had to TRY and remove He-Man's arms, and the legs were permanent...Not that I mistreated the lead hero of the Masters of the Universe who was oddly the most BORING of the lot. But I digress...
Toys should be made to last. Delta-Boy has seen another Transformer, Payload, that he's interested in, but he's expressed concern about it falling apart. He spends more time making his own Transformers out of paper or Lego blocks. I'll show you his home made Transformers later...
A short while ago, we had a slight plumbing problem...Any mice living under our sink found themselves with a handy waterpark. Thrifty Wife is the local engineer, so she set forth to fix the Mini-Waterfall, but encountered a problem under the house where the pipes led. So, much like Mario seeking extra coins in the underworld chambers of the Mushroom Kingdom, I entered the Underhouse Kingdom...
*dirr dirr dirr*
Buhnuhnuhnuhnuh...
King Koopa was heard to comment, "Plumbers? Plumber alert!"
The other day, during nap time, Bravo-Boy (remember, the 2-year old) came out of his room and said, "Dada, me gotta wee!"
"Get to it, then," I responded.
He tromps down the hall to the bathroom with intent. But then time creeps on. I begin to realize that the noble pasttime of urination should not take that long, especially for a 2-year old with a bladder approximately 10 times smaller than mine. So I go investigating. Bathroom door standing open. Light on. Signs that Bravo-Boy is in the area. Then...
AHHHHH!
Bravo-Boy pops out of the dining room located directly to the right of the bathroom.
"Why were you in the dining room, Bravo-Boy?"
"Nothing."
"Go back to your room and take a nap, Bravo-Boy."
"Ok."
As Bravo-Boy passes me in the hall, I notice a strange presence around his mouth. I put my hand on the child's shoulder as he passes and bend down. I sniff. Peanut butter!
"Bravo-Boy, you've been helping yourself to the peanut butter. You do not help yourself to the peanut butter. Go to your room. Now."
Case closed. Another collar for Detective Dadasshole.
The Peanut Butter Pinch II: A Sticky Predicament The other day, same day as the previous episode, Delta-Boy comes out of his room during nap time.
"Dada, I've got to go wee." "Get to it then."
He tromps down the hall to the bathroom with intent. This time, however, I just needed to get something from the kitchen, probably a Diet Coke, so I too tromped down the hall with intent without suspiscion when...
AHHHHHHH!
Out pops Delta-Boy from the dining room with a quick, "I was just using the bathroom."
The Dadometer goes wild. Something is afoot. Keenly aware of the previous incident with Bravo-Boy, I inquire, "Were you eating peanut butter?"
"No."
I bend down to a clean faced Delta-Boy...and...snifffffff...The distinct fragrance of peanut butter hung around Delta-Boy's mouth. The situation goes to Condition Yellow!
"Go to your room. You're not getting dessert after supper tonight."
Case closed. Another collar for Detective Dadasshole.
But...is the case closed?
Was the crime eating peanut butter without permission? Was it lying about it? Both? I don't know how I would have reacted if Delta-Boy had confessed during the interrogation. I may have just said, "You are not to help yourself to peanut butter or any food without asking Mama or me." I don't know, though. But coupled with lying...that's unacceptable. And it's been a growing problem. Sometimes just little things like he's in a room and something happens and you ask him about it. "I don't know." You know he knows. He was there. He's a witness.
Worse, it's happening at school. Thrifty Mama learned this week that he's been lying to his teachers. I spoke with one Friday explaining that it's been a problem at home, so I would be emailing on Fridays to find out if it's continuing. I don't need to know daily. I just need to have an idea if it's happening in safety away from home. Away from the Dadometer.
I've explained to him why we don't lie. Trust. If you can't tell Mama and Dada, it's something you shouldn't be doing. It's a sign you're doing something bad.
The problem is that I'm not sure when I should trust my son. He's told me the truth and I thought he wasn't. When I learned what he said was the truth, I apologized but explained..."This is why we don't lie."
We had an incident today...
"Dada, Zebra-Girl is making farty noises." "Ok, and?" "It's annoying me!" "Then go away from her."
Delta-Boy trundles off and I hear, "Dada said..." and his voice trails off.
"Delta-Boy!" "What?" "You mean, 'Sir?' right?" "Sir?" "What did you just tell Zebra-Girl I said?" "Nothing." "I heard you say, 'Zebra-Girl, Dada said...' What did you tell her I said?" "Nothing. I was going to say something but then I remembered something and stopped." "Zebra-Girl!" "What?" "Don't you mean, 'Sir?'" "Sir?" "What did Delta-Boy say I said." "I don't remember."
(Very possible. I love my Zebra-Girl, but she has the attention span of a tsetse fly.)
"Did he tell you that I said to stop making farty noises?" "Yes."
Ok, leading the witness. Because of that, I'm not sure she's telling the truth or just knows that Dada isn't happy. I hate that I don't just automatically trust my son. It's all I think about when he's telling me something. I'm sure it will pass. As his teacher told me, "He's a good boy." But I also think of my students, some of whom won't tell the truth even when it would serve them better.
It's probably just a phase...but I want to make sure that's all it is. I'm just afraid I may also be overreacting.
Last post I shared with everyone my new, warm, cozy sleep socks. Now they are warm, cozy, smelly sleep socks! Woohoo! They are broken in!
Well, another one of my wonderful gifts from my eldest sister, I'll call her Hotel-Sis. That has nothing to do with her job or anything. Just a reference to her initials. Moving on...
Hotel-Sis got me a Flip Camcorder. Cool, huh? It really is! Easy to use, so far. The "so far" hopefully captured your attention. I plugged The Flip into my conputer to download my videos...mostly random stuff just playing around, but some stuff I intended to use, and...nothing. Huh. Well, something was supposed to happen. Hotel-Sis had warned me that apparently they made so many of these so quickly, being the "hot, new thing", that it wasn't uncommon for Flips to turn up with errors in their programming. Well, I went to the Flip website to see what it had to say, and tried a couple of things to no avail, and sent the problem in to Customer Service. Follow me into the dreaded CSL...Customer Service Loop.
Loop 1: Request for information about me and the unit. Understandable. Told to just send in the Flip, they'll reprogram and try and save my videos. Not happy, but fair enough.
Purgatory: 24 Hours later. No response. Send email asking if they got my information, etc.
Loop 2: Before proceding, they want to try one more troubleshooting step. Fair enough...but part of what they wanted me to do, I didn't understand how I was supposed to do it. So I asked for clarification.
Purgatory .5: Received email in response to my email asking if they have received the information and am asked to re-forward the information.
Return to Loop 1: I re-sent the information. No clarification for my previous question.
Loop 1.5: Given information about sending the camera in including sending the exact same information I've provided via email 3 times already.
It's enough to drive someone insane. Cartainly nauseous. So I'll send in my Flip hoping they'll save my videos, and I might be able to do some video stuff here. But keep your vomit bags handy...just in case.
So, how was everyone's Christmas? Good, I hope. Christmas went by in the Asshole household without a hitch. Giant Microbes were a big hit this year as Delta-Boy got Tuberculosis, Zebra-Girl got Flesh-Eating Virus, Sierra-Girl got the Black Death, Bravo-Boy got Athelete's Foot, and Yankee-Boy got the Ebola Virus. Mamahole got the Common Cold, and I got myself a House Fly, a carrier of microbes...
One of my big gifts, and some of you may laugh, but one of my big gifts this year were sleep socks. Socks not worn because you are walking out in public in shoes, but thick, warm socks worn because you are at home, you're comfortable, but if not for those sleep socks, your toes would be cold. Now to make sure you understand why the sleep socks were one of the big hits of my Christmas, you have to understand how my feetses got around before Christmas morning... Man, those are some cold, unhappy feet. Notice how my new House Fly loves my feet. It's not that they are stank feet. Eau Contraire! It's the holey socks.
Oh! Holey Socks The Toes are Gently Peeking It is the holes in our poor, smelly socks....
So my most wonderful wife got me new Sleep Socks for my poor toesies...
Nothing says Christmas like warm, flyless toes. Merry Christmas everybody!
I sat down this morning with my newspaper hoping not to find too much death and misery and I was greeted with something else disturbing of a different nature. Professional childishness.
The headline: "Romney targets Huckabee"
Doing a Google search of the phrase "Romney targets Huckabee" and you get 2,000 plus pages. That's with the quotes. My question is...why?
I'd go off on a whole rant about Romney and how he can't seem to convince everyone he can be president without demeaning his opponents abilities and characters...but it's not just Romney.
Another headline: "Obama fires back at Bill Clinton"
Why?
Ok, that question is brought from two thoughts. Not just "Why can't a politician just say why he's the best choice for president without saying why the other person isn't the best choice?" Also, why are we even talking to Bill? If I was Obama, the only "firing back" I would do would be to say, "I thought your wife was running for president, not you."
When Dubya ran, his father didn't get this much attention. No wives get so much press time.
Anyway, that's not my focus here...Why do Americans want to see their prospective leaders fighting like middle schoolers? In a classroom, if students were blaming, finger pointing, insulting, and ridiculing each other, like our politicians do, the students would get in trouble. They'd be told to knock it off.
So I leave you with two questions to ponder:
1) Why do we hold our elementary and middle school aged children to higher standards of behavior than our political leaders?
2) Where's the politician with the strength of character to say, "I will not bother slandering my opponent's name. I will not stoop to mudslinging. I will explain why I should be president, and refute my opponents' disparaging remarks, and that it all." Where is that politician? Because that politician I would be happy to vote for, regardless of party.
It's been, practically, a month since I posted here. I can't remember what I talked about, and I could, of course, check, but I figure after a month, I don't need to worry about what I said last. I've just been very busy. I find that I'm taking on more and more responsibilities and I don't seem to have very much free time. I've never been very good at posting during the school year, when all the good stuff happens, but this just seems excessive, especially since I was posting regularly there for a little while.
Things to talk about...
I'm the school's new news coordinator. That means I contact newspaper and television reporters when there's something going on at school which they may find newsworthy. I've written my first press release about our SRO teaching anti-gang and defensive driving courses. Two separate classes, of course. I was very nervous and sent my press release to be critiqued by the district news...chief. I don't know what her title is, honestly. She said it was a perfect press release, especially for a first time. I have no idea if the reporter is going to do a news story on our SRO, but I'm hoping. It's good human interest, if you ask me.
I'm the news coordinator for the school because I've taken on a creative writing/journalism class. I'm focusing on creative writing by looking first analyzing excellent examples of literature and then taking the concepts used and trying to apply them to the students' own writings. As the news chief tells me, creative writing and journalism are opposite ends of the writing spectrum as she says in journalism you don't want flowery adjectives, although I've read articles where the opening is very descriptive with figurative language. I don't know squat about journalism and have been looking for something to assist. We have one copy of a journalism text which was printed in 1994. Oddly enough, I found out that's the same standard journalism text across the district, which means out district hasn't adopted new journalism texts in 13 years.............I've ordered myself something from a catelogue. We'll see if I can pull this journalism thing together.
Gang tensions are mounting at school. I know I teach at ARSE (Alternate Reality School for Excellence) and a large portion of our student body are expelled students who often come with gang connections, but gang tensions have never cropped up. Ok, rarely cropped up, and never so blatantly. I hate gangs. I hate gangs because they take children whose parents ignore them or just don't have time to pay much attention because they are working their asses off, they use the violence they help to create, and promise to protect them and guide them. They then beat the shit out of them "to make them strong" and guide them toward activities which greatly limit their future prospects. Those're criminal activities, in case I lost you. So all this is going through my mind and I'm reading the Freedom Writers Diary to my classes...all of my classes...and I'm reminded of the short story The Last Spin by Evan Hunter. It occurred to me while reading the story that the only difference between one gang and the other is that one gang sports one color and values certain symbols, and another gang has a different color and different symbols. In the end, they are all the same except the color the prefer. Possibly due to recent discussions with Ms. Roygbiv, our art teacher, I'm reminded that you shine a light into a prism and you get all kinds of colors...all color comes from the same light. Then I thought, "Is there an anti-gang presentation in this? So now with the help of Bonita the guidance counselor and Mrs. Dorian, our middle school science teacher, I'm trying to create an anti-gang presentation. I'm limited in that I've never done this before and I think my idea is one we can't pull off and it needs to be scaled back, but it could still be effective. I need to convert the story into a play or skit or whatever. We'll see what develops...
I need to piece together the history of my school because I've been there longer than anyone save for the custodian.
I still have no classroom computer.
I drive my son to school every morning to varying degrees of effectiveness from the teachers on hand to unload students.
I'm on the Faculty Urges Communication Krew (FUCK) made up of this year's and last year's teachers of the year to communicate to the superintendent what the other teachers think of how things are going.
This week I'm starting a class in order to get recertification credit, because being a teacher alone doesn't recertify myself and I have so much time to spare that 3 hours once a week is nothing to me.
That covers most everything. I'll try and be by more often. I could go into greater detail with everything and probably put some humor into it, but humor is a time waster and I have little to spare...see you next time.
I know, I know, I haven't been blogging! I've been getting used to my new school year and not doing a good job of it. For instance, one day I was sitting in the computer lab doing some work because the computer in my room is acting wonky. I knew that after middle school lunch, I had one period of planning before my next class. But watch what happens when the interpid teacher mixes up middle school lunch and high school lunch...Crikey, look at that! He completely missed one of his classes!
Yep, missed one completely. Came down and called the students to my room as they tried to go somewhere else and had to be explained to by the students where they were going. Doh!
I told my coworker who held onto the class that she should have radioed me. She said she would have been unbelievably embarrassed if everyone in the school heard her name radioed to come to her class. Here's where we learn about different priorities. One teacher is concerned about how said teacher appears to coworkers. One teacher is concerned that said teacher didn't do his fucking job. Appearance versus responsibility. Which is more important to you?
A similar event happened later when I forgot I had lunch duty. I had been, again, working in the computer lab (I really need my computer fixed) and was returning to my portable for some material when a coworker yelled across the parking lot.
"Mr. Asshole, do you have lunch detention?" "What?" "I think you do!"
And sure enough, I did. So I went to the lunch room with about 10 minutes to spare of lunch time and Coach goes, "there he is!" and another coworker says, "Yep, that's him," and trudges off to scarf what she can of her lunch down before the next class. Again, "You should have radioed for me. I forgot."
"I would be mortified if my name got called for lunch duty."
Damn it! What the hell? So I'm surrounded by people who would rather screw up totally and few know than screw up a little and everyone knows. What does that say about priorities. Yep, they're getting misplaced.
I'll try and pencil some time in tomorrow to tell about my actual classes. But there may be no point cause I'll forget to wear pants soon...
The second day back to school was a little better, if not productive. Principal Trinity set up a game where we teachers were put into groups and sent out following clues until we found the final clue leading us to where we all would reunite for lunch.
I was partnered with Jinny, the guidance counselor, Bonita, our secretary, and the new middle school science teacher, Mrs. Dorian. We had a great time. It was a lot of fun.
But...
As mentioned yesterday, I still have a lot of work to do in preparation for this new school year. I'd be a little less concerned except that tomorrow I have faculty development all day and Tuesday we have the District kick-off followed by, faculty development, so I can only hope that Wednesday I'll be left alone in my room for the entire day.
I'll let you know how things progress.
Oh, and check out Rosemond's article about school uniforms. I agree with everything he says, and I found particular interest when he stated that, "by sending a child to a public school, a parent consents, a priori, to government "interference" in child-rearing matters." I especially agree with this considering the number of parents expecting the school to do such things as teaching their children about sex, and disciplining their children in isolation without the crucial parental discipline necessary to let the child know that it's not "just a school thing" when he gets in trouble.
So on Thursday, the school year started back. No students yet, just the pre-student set-up week. I should say "set-up" because I've only spent about an hour and a half working on getting ready for the new school year. That's for two days equaling 16 hours on the job. That's not for my laziness. I mean I have laziness, and that's usually the reason why I don't get things done. But not this time baby! I am STRESSED!
See, I've been moved to a new room (read portable) and everything of mine is in a box. Well, not one box, but several boxes strewn about about my room.
Mrs. Chili, riddle me this...should I say "everything is in a box" or "everything is in boxes"?
Ok, where was I?
Oh, yes, things, boxes, not ready for school to start! So, for fun, let's add some items to my "Gotta Get It Done Before Day One" list.
I learned on my first day back in the "Welcome back, here's what changed" meeting with Trinity (She's the third principal I've worked for at Alternate Reality School of Excellence, or Arse). I go from teaching 4 classes to 6. Classes are cut from 70 minutes to 48 minutes. One of my classes is a middle school reading accellaration program which I've had exposure to in the past, ans the other is a high school elective class.
Bloody high school.
I asked Principal Trinity what I was to do with this unnamed High School elective class.
Trinity: "Well, it can be anything you want it to be, but I can tell you what I was thinking?" Asshole: "Ok, what did you have in mind?" Trinity: "Just a Creative Writing class where you could head up the school newsletter. I don't want it to be something you have to plan for, so just go in and do whatever you want."
HAHAHAHAHAH! Not plan for. Yeah, ok. See, if you want me to head up the school newsletter, I'm going to want to teach some journalism and throw in the fun stuff for filler. The poetry and short stories and such, the stuff I could "just wing it with" would be just padding. Basically, I'm thinking predominantly a journalism course.
Query: Has the Asshole had anything to do with a journalism class before now?
Response: Hell...no.
Now, technically I could go to Principal Trinity and say, "You know, I think I'd rather teach a class on how comic books have affected culture," and she'd probably say, "Yeah, ok."
I make that assertion because a coworker, this year we'll call her Bess, was in the same boat and she said, "Can I teach sewing?" There were some parameters about reaching out to the community, but she pretty much got the go ahead.
But here's my problem...I'm a Work With-er. Had she said, "I want you to teach sex ed," I would say, after inquiring, "Why don't you want me to teach Ed sex?" I would respond, "Ok, am I just going over the basics or are we talking techniques and Kama Sutra?"
In a world of Work Againsters, I'm a Worth With-er. So it's my fault, but now I've asked the district language arts head about journalism teachers and I'm scouring the net for resources on teaching journalism.
So, students return to school in T-Minus 4 days...this Thursday. I need to:
1. Unpack and set up room. 2. Develop parameters of two new classes. 3. Get stuff ready for the six total classes I'm teaching on Thursday. 4. Figure out how to do the same amount of teaching with a lot less time.
Freaking out!
But no, I'm not done...I also have the pleasure of Arse (Alternative Reality School of Excellence) politics.
The middle school teachers were held after for some clarifications on the changes I've already shared. During the extended meeting, I decided I'd share a concern that was shared with me from Bess and Bull, my coworkers from last year. See, I decided this would be a good opportunity to show that we could be a team and reassert myself to a position of leadership in the middle school. But I should have held my tongue. I said to Principal Trinity, "The others talked with me and I shared some of their concerns about the new behavior policy, and we'd like to present for your consideration a melding of our old system and your new system. Blah, blah, blah."
The others were...silent. Trinity's retort: "The intent of the new policy is to blah blah blah and blah blah blah. What about if blah blah?"
Bess chimes in: "Yeah, we could blah blah."
Asshole Interior Monologue: "Man, my ass hurts. I think I've been screwed. What are you talking about Bess? This doesn't alleviate your concerns."
Well, I just said, "Ok," cause while I don't agree with all of Trinity's assertions, as stated above, I'm a Work With-er. The only reason I said anything to mend fences. Well, I don't seem to be a fence mender. So I shut up. Anyway, I wanted to get out of there so I could help Mrs. Asshole pay school fees for Delta-Boy, our first kindergartener.
Bess and Bull finally chimed in some things in very non-assertive ways. More like points of clarification than points of contention.
So stressed and annoyed.
Day 2 was better save for not working in my room...but I'll share that tomorrow.
Oh, in case you didn't notice, I do want to clarify. The names used in this post do refer to some of the same people referred to in previous posts. But I figured new year, new names, so in order to help with anonymity, I changed the names again. Also, that's why I used "blahs" for the conversation up there. The details aren't important, and going for the whole "plausible deniability" thing.
I actually need to catch you up on two weeks worth of adventure.
When we left off, Yogi had shown some minor improvement showing up before my patience threshold was hit, and even early one day. Granted he called in sick on Friday. Raise your hands if you've ever called in sick on Friday to start an early vacation. Exactly.
Monday - A phonecall right before I left saying he was still sick. This boy needs to live in a bubble.
Tuesday - He shows up at school before I even leave the house, but tells the principal that he can't come in today because he has to take his girlfriend to the hospital. I'll keep my thoroughly inappropriate, unprofessional comments to myself.
Wednesday - On the way to work, I get a call from mom. Seems, Yogi is stressed out. It seems that summer school and time spent with me is just too much for him. Plus, he wants to get a job. He's also decided he doesn't have time to complete the class for credit. He was wondering, all his idea of course, if I could just tutor him in a subject he needs tutoring in, and if we can pick back up after summer school is through for the summer.
Naturally, I say that I can't just make that decision on my own, but I'll communicate the request to my superiors, and I'd get back to her. I did call back and leave a message saying that weekend to say we could pick up on Monday with the tutoring, "I'll see him at our regular time."
Monday - No show. No call. Nothing.
Friday - Previous days had already been rescheduled for macation time. But again, no show, no call, nothing. I called mom to say that I was concerned because he hadn't shown up in the last couple of days, but he still has a few hours he can take advantage of before school starts back. "I'll be expecting him on Monday." Mom has yet to call me back.
The secretary, when I told her I'd see her Monday, responded, "You're going to give him another chance?"
I explained that until the parent or one of my bosses says not to worry about it, I'm going to go in just in case he shows up. If he comes in and I'm not there, oh, I would be so wrong for that. So it's Cover Your Asshole time.
Week 2 showed me that I am influencing his decision making, but it's not a total transformation...
Monday - Mother called saying he wouldn't be coming in with little explanation.
Tuesday - Mother called and said he'd be 10-15 minutes late due to stomach problems. He showed up 27 minutes late. I told him I would not wait past the 15 minute lateness again. He left afteer an hour.
Wednesday - Only showed up nine minutes late, but left 30 minutes early. I called Mother to let her know what happened the previous day and this day. When I mentioned him being late 27 minutes the day before, she reminded me that she called me to let me know. I had to explain that she said 10-15 minutes and he was 27 minutes late. I would not wait past 15 minutes again.
Thursday - Yogi showed up 15 minutes EARLY? Unbelievable. It wasn't perfect though as he left 20 minutes early, but an amazing improvement.
Friday - Received a call before I left the house. Yogi had been up late puking. That is the sickest kid! He wouldn't be coming. I called to let my Principal know and I found out that he made it to summer school and she couldn't figure out why he couldn't make it to me. Good question.
While there's been some improvement, some of the games are still going on, but I'm starting to get across to him that I'm not playing.
My wife got a book recently called "Fat Dog Don't Run No Rabbit", by Frank L. Quinn. It's sub title says, "Promoting Change in Overpriveleged Childron and Their Families". Quinn points out early on that economic status has little to do with whether or not a child is overprivileged. Sure, a child whose parents buy him the latest gaming system every time a new one comes out is over priviliged, but so to is the child who's wearing hand-me-downs and whose single-parent mother defends her child's actions, poor grades, disruptive behaviors, fighting, on everything other than the true culprit to blame, him- or herself.
As Mrs. Asshole has been reading bits and pieces of this book to me, I thought of a student of mine. Let's call him Yogi. I'm Park Ranger Asshole, and the ever desired picinic basket is really time away from the lesson.
See, my school owed Yogi some educational hours. "Owed" may be a bit strong a term here, as the hours had been offered, but he was almost never available. However, do to a clerical error, he got a second chance. In order to avoid the same clerical error from last time, I documented everything. These were my Adventures in teaching Yogi.
Week 1:
Day 1 - Yogi informs me that he has to leave after have of his allotted 2 hours. I inquire as to the reason and he responds, "I have to get my grandmother's phone back to her."
"Doesn't she know you're supposed to stay for two hours?"
"Yeah, but she doesn't know I have her phone."
YOGI!
Day 2 - Yogi doesn't seem to understand that any break time he takes for lunch/snack extends his departure time. He took a 23 minute break, so I reminded him he needed to stay 23 minutes after his original leave time. He declares he's not staying and leaves 23 minutes early.
YOGI!
Day 3 - 20 minutes before out meeting time, while in transit to the school, I get a call saying that mom called the school saying he was sick. He had gotten sick at summer school and it tool at least 30 minutes for them to call to cancel...
YOGI!
Day 4 - I wait 15 minutes after the arranged meet time. I was told by the district coordinator of this stuff not to wait more than 15 minutes, so I leave. I'm pulling up to my house 10 minutes later and I get a call from Mom. He got caught in traffic. The fact that summer school is less than 5 minutes from my school and it apparently took him 1 hour and 25 minutes to get to the school does not concern Mom. I refuse to turn around and return to the school.
YOGI!
Day 5 - On the way to school, I get a call from Yogi saying that he would be 15 minutes late because he had "to take my girlfriend somewhere." I waited 30 minutes past the arranged time and Yogi finally showed up right when I was giving up. He brought in tow his girlfriend, his buddy Boo-Boo. "I didn't have time to take her home," he says.
"Well, you have time now. I'll see you next week," I respond.
YOGI!
Yogi got the better of me that first week with the help of his mother. We'll see if I could get her to stop accepting his excuses in another post.
I had transferred to Local Middle School (although as dreams often do, I knew what it was supposed to be, but it didn't look anything like the real deal). Th teacher's name whom I replaced was still on the door, but they had my named written on paper and taped up. "Mr. Asswhole". DAMNIT! Why do they ALWAYS misspell my name?
The whole school is chaotic, students and teachers just wandering the halls at all times. Amongst them my original boss, the guy who first gave me a teaching job. A man I greatly respect. So when things went bad, his presence made things worse.
First, it turned out that my room was infested with bees. They were buzzing all around me, and I was trying to herd them out of the door, because bees are herd animals, apparently. One of my students ran up to me yelling, "Mr. Asshole, I'll get them!" and he starts swinging at them. This riles them up (Yes, I said "riles") and they sting me. Now, when I think of bees stinging I always imagine quite vividly, even in my dreams in seems, the stinger sticking in my skin, and as the bees flies away, his innards slewsh out in a grotesque fashion onto my skin, but in my nightmare, it wasn't imagination. I needed a towel to wipe bee innards off of my skin.
Then I realized that some students, female students, had gotten a hold of my laptop.
"What are you doing with that!?" *GIGGLE* "Give me that!"
When I got my laptop back, I saw they had changed the wallpaper of my laptop to a picture of the group of girls, naked, laying in a mass.
"WHAT ARE YOU DOING? I COULD GET FIRED!"
Then class changed, I wandered off to get a refreshment and...lost my classroom. It was either 8 or 18, but I could remember which, and my name had fluttered off of the door. I knew people were talking about me. The ineffectual teacher from the Alty School, so I was hesitant to ask for help. Luckily, I found my room.
The next class had, oddly enough, adults alongside students. I tried to teach, but the adults were disrupting the class. I got frustrated and told all the adults to leave, and I was promptly ignored. So I threatened to call the Student Resource Officer, and was continued to be ignored. So I went looking for the call button to the office. They realized I was done playing and the adults, plus several students, started leaving. I instructed the students to remain in the class, not that they listened. I could have used the walkie talkie, but again, I knew I was already being talked about.
As I circled the room (It was a circular room!) a kid tossed a mechanical device to me. I didn't know what it was, but it was warm, clearly doing something. I tossed the contraption back. As I circled I heard a kind of exploding noise and all the electronics, save for some of the ceiling lights, went out. I knew right away, it was a device that emitted an electro-magnetic pulse. I turned around to tell the kid to go to the office. As I approached him, the kid tossed me another, much smaller device. It had very small screen on it. It must have been shielded from an EM pulse. It showed me, with the EM device tossing it to the kid, and then it going off. It looked like I had set off the device that fried most of the school's electronics!
The End
I can only assume that I had that dream so that, as this coming school year goes by, I can think back, "At least it hasn't been as bad as that dream."
Earlier this week, Delta-Boy, the 5 year old, came up to me and said, "I've been trying to get so mad that I move things with my mind."
Amused, I asked, "Where did you get that idea from?"
"My mind told it to me."
My son's mind is telling him to get into a furious rage so he can Carrie the place. I'd lock my door at night if I thought it would keep the Child of the Damned out of my room. Scary.
Today I was making my lunch when Mrs. Asshole came running into the kitchen, "Come see what Bravo-Boy has done!"
So I trundle down the hall and enter Delta and Bravo Boys' room. "Dada, Bravo-Boy put some poo in the pot! Isn't that wonderful!"
"Is that your poo?...in that pot? Good job, Bravo-Boy!"
I think after four years of potty training and one more baby to potty train, I now know from where the scat fetish comes. You get so used to being excited about poo that the context starts to become meaningless. Eww.
So, my Ass-of-All-Trades thing is continuing. The School owes a kid hours. Technically it was already offered but he never showed up. Now, since the make-up time was outside of standard school hours, no records were kept and The School was told that since we didn't record his absence from these make-up times, we have to offer it again. So starting Monday I'm going in a couple of hours a day. It's funny how all of these extra money making opportunities have arisen the year I didn't get a summer teaching job. It's not as much as I would make in summer school, but I'll take it.
So, our beloved nation turns 231 years old today. Doesn't she look great! She really is a beautiful, proud lady. Coming up on an election year, I can't tell you how much I love this country. What's an election year got to do with it? THE DEMOCRATIC PROCESS, BABY! I love elections. I love the political debates. I love that every four years we get to say who we want to run the country. And really, if you consider that some offices have elections at different intervals, we get to help steer this great land more frequently than that, but it's the presidential election that really gets me jazzed.
I think that's something that people tend to forget. No, not that I get pumped up about presidential elections, but that we all get to step up to the ship's wheel and turn the country in the direction we want it to go in. Now, we all get the chance to step up to the wheel, so just because I say, "Arr, me harties, let us turn to starboard," someone else might come up and say, "Ahoy, ye evil genius pirate, I reckon we would be better served goin' to port," and if more people say "port" than agree that we should go starboard, well, we go port. I'm ok with that.
But some people aren't ok with that. Some people don't want to take a turn at the helm because they don't like how the wheel looks. Some don't think it matters if we go port or starboard. Some want to go in other directions but don't think we can. We can go in any direction assuming enough people want to go that way. Some don't even care to take a turn at the wheel. Fair enough. Participate in the navigation of our country to the extent that you are comfortable.
But then there are the complainers. Do they have the right to complain? Sure. But that doesn't mean they have a platform to stand on. Complain when our captain breaks a law, fine. Complain when the majority of us say "head to port" and we're taken to starboard. Fine. But complain when you're not in the majority?
I'm going to stop with the nautical analogy to make sure I'm understood here. I know a lot of people feel the last couple of presidential elections were "stolen". I understand the frustration. I mean, the second election so many people were complaining about the President, how could he win again? But then no one hears the people who are content. No one content shouts to the heavens that something must be done. So maybe what we heard wasn't reality. Maybe the content just outnumbered, barely clearly, the complainers. Or maybe some of the complainers were those who chose not to participate in the Democratic process.
We now return to our nautical metaphor...
But despite my opinion about the rampant complainers, what I love is that they CAN complain. SOme ships, you complain about the captain, you're walking the plank, or keel hauled, or run through. We can say all that we want how the captain is the biggest fucking retarded baboon to ever walk in a suit, and we're suprised that he doesn't slip on his own drool, and that we'd rather jump ship and head to the HRMS Canuck, and not worry that we will be made an example of. We don't have to worry that the captain will help us on our way to the HRMS Canuck by throwing us overboard. Most countries' citizens don't have that kind of security.
I love this old 231 year old ship and feel she's holding together pretty well. She's not perfect, but she's one of the best ships out there. Some think she's on the verge of falling apart, but I have confidence in us, her crew. She'll sail for 231 more years, assuming the oceans last that long.
So, today was my first day working on developing a curriculum for the district. Our focus is on determining what "experiences" every student should have before they finish whatever grade they are in. I chose the 8th grade. Because I am the sole middle school teacher at Alty School, I teach grades 6-8. Apparently sixth grade wasn't present, so I had to pick 7th or 8th. &th grade already had two representatives, while 8th only had one, so I chose to even up the sides. By the time the last teacher straggled in, there were four 7th grade teachers and three 8th grade teachers, counting me. Then, the trouble...
"Mr. Asshole, did you bring your textbook." "Uh, no. I was called just a couple of days ago and wasn't told to bring anything, but I can have it tomorrow."
This continued throughout the day...
"Mr. Asshole, did you get this book?" "What book?" "This very important book?" "Uh, no, never heard of it." Luckily, three of the seven of us had never received the book.
"Mr. Asshole, do you have those?" "Have what?" "The student workbooks that go with the texts?" "Uh, no, but I do have the text books."
"The 8th grade wants to do The Outsiders, is that ok, Mrs. Coordinator? And we'll let the 7th grade keep Watsons Go to Birmingham" "Yes, McSnot, that's fine. Mr. Asshole, you have those don't you?" "Well, I did when I first got the job six years ago, but I think they were left in what passed for a bookroom when I moved to my portable, and I don't know if I have any copies." "Well, we have plenty of used copies that are going to just be thrown away that we could send your way if you don't mind hand-me-downs." "No, Mrs. McSnot, he doesn't need hand-me-downs..." "No, Mrs. Coordinator, I'll happily take hand-me-downs as long as they are readable."
"Hey, the old textbook had this great bit about this! Mrs. Coordinator, can we use something from an old text?" "Sure. Mrs. Snot. Mr. Asshole, do you have a copy of the old text?" "No. I was overwhelmed when I got the new textbooks, because I never had textbooks before." "We'll run copies for you."
Well, I wasn't teaching summer school do to No Child Left Behind and the possibly warped up hiring decision of this year's director. Basically, teachers at the school where I wanted to do summer school got first priority, including teachers newly signed for the next school year. Then teachers who have taught summer school there in the past.
Well, my alternative school, naturally, doesn't have its own summer school program. Any of our guys need to go to summer school; they end up back at their home school. I've been teaching summer school since I started in the school district 7 years ago. I always taught social studies. That came about because I graduated college with a degree in Secondary Education: History and English. So my former principal jumped at the chance to hire me because I would be teaching...history and English. This was back when there were only two teachers in the middle school program.
But Principal Walks-on-Water said that I really only needed to take the Praxis for the English certification, because that would be my primary focus. I just never chose to spend the money to get the history certification. Well, that decision burned me. I had requested an English summer school class...I always requested an English class, but I always got assigned a history class. Fine. But this year, the director asked if I had certification to teach social studies because he already had all the English teachers he needed. When I told him my situation, college degree but no certification, he responded that the previous director must have flown me in under the radar.
Great! I've been a Language Arts refugee in a strange Social Studies land all of these years!
So I found myself with my first summer off since I became a teacher. What's a guy to do...
Well, honestly, between naps I did eat some, and read some, and whatnot.
Then, came the call, "Mr. Asshole, Mr. Dewey from Local Middle School called."
So I rang the man up.
"So, Mr. Asshole, did you find a summer school position at one of the other schools?" "No, sir. To be honest, I didn't really try." "Well, here's the thing. I have a teacher who's going to be out next week and we need a sub. When I found out I thought I'd call you first." "Well, sign me up." "And I think we'll need you the next week for someone else." "Sure, just let me know."
But apparently word had gotten out that I would be sitting on my duff all summer, so I got another call.
"Mr. Asshole, this is Principal Powwow, did you get my message about English?" "No, ma'am, I was just told to give you a call." "Well, I was at a thing and ran into Mrs. Grim, the English Curriculum Coordinator. She was saying how she was meeting with other middle school English teachers next week to create some common experiences for the students to have no matter what sc
The other day, during nap time, Bravo-Boy (remember, the 2-year old) came out of his room and said, "Dada, me gotta wee!"
Man, those are some cold, unhappy feet. Notice how my new House Fly loves my feet. It's not that they are stank feet. Eau Contraire! It's the holey socks.
Nothing says Christmas like warm, flyless toes. Merry Christmas everybody!
