I have a good friend. He's the one who convinced me to come to the new job, probably had a hand in my hiring, and he's been very kind about showing me around, getting me materials, etc.
So Monday he asked how it was going, and I said that overall, things were pretty good, that there were just a few minor things that were drawbacks. He asked what they were, and I mentioned the bathroom thing first, then that because I really didn't have anyone to eat lunch with, it was hard getting to know people, and I missed the sense of camaraderie I had at my last job. The next day, he and another teacher came over to eat with me, today they were here again, and they're asking even more people to come over. I know I'm really lucky to have a friend like that. Now if only there were something that could be done about the bathroom . . .
Wednesday, September 28, 2005
Tuesday, September 27, 2005
Seriously?!
From a memo I received today:
"An IEP meeting has been schedule for: [Student Name] . . . Your present at the meeting is important to the planning for this students' academic progress as his/her gneeral education teacher. Your attendance and input are essential for the decision-making and recommendations for continue or change in services received by this student.
As member of the IEP team your input will be used to evaluate and implement appropriate education interventions for the educational success of the student."
The worst part was this incomprehensible gobbledygook looked a LOT like a form letter that just gets the kid's name switched out.
"An IEP meeting has been schedule for: [Student Name] . . . Your present at the meeting is important to the planning for this students' academic progress as his/her gneeral education teacher. Your attendance and input are essential for the decision-making and recommendations for continue or change in services received by this student.
As member of the IEP team your input will be used to evaluate and implement appropriate education interventions for the educational success of the student."
The worst part was this incomprehensible gobbledygook looked a LOT like a form letter that just gets the kid's name switched out.
Monday, September 26, 2005
Best of Broadway!
Okay, I may have sat through Gynagirl's personal hell yesterday.
First, my grandma calls me at like 12:30 and says "well, are you dressed and ready to go?" I answer that I'm dressed, but I don't think I'm going anywhere, because I'm dirty and I stink. She starts to respond that I'd better . . . when I go "Oh! I forgot Best of Broadway! No I didn't! I'm ready! What time are we meeting you?" So, Mom and I meet her for the production. Now, the idea is that they take the best songs from Broadway musicals and do dance numbers to them. But they apparently take absolutely anyone who auditions, and there's no real theme or anything. Also, it would seem that their budget for the cast of like 200 was about $200. I suspect they said something like "Do you have anything khaki, anything white, anything vaguely retro, and some stuff you wouldn't mind us putting glitter on? Great, you've got the part!" And finally, that title might be more accurate if it were "Mediocreist of Broadway Musicals that are Often Unknown and Mostly Thirty Years Old."
At first it seemed very David Lynch to me, but then there was a strange and campy John Waters-esque number, but from there on out it was ALL Christopher Guest. Just like Waiting for Guffman. At one point during "Born to be Wild" my mom leaned over and said "I think I liked him better with the wig." I replied "I think I'd like it better if I couldn't see his ding-ding."
Other low-lights included the tapdance to "Wipeout," the long religious section, the people who just stood in the back as scenery (possibly the board members), the "Napoleon" section (with exceptionally creepy scene between 60-year old Napoleon and 17-year old Josephine, with, by the way, dancers in Victorian underpants doing a sort of ballet, the male in long johns and a flowy shirt) . . . Um, also the ending scenes with everyone pouring into the aisles dressed like Rocky Horror trannies (the creepy people who dance in the front). There was a kid who looked just like the geeky friend in the Wonder Years, and he couldn't keep time (he SO wasn't the only one). There was also a kid in a teal shirt with a glittery mesh shirt over it who came out, rather inexplicably, with glitter smeared all over his top lip, and a do-rag. Oh, and the kids who seemed exceptionally unenthused about singing "Good Vibrations" -- imagine someone very angry or depressed doing the "good, bop bop, good" part.
Most of it was good clean fun, me making the occasional snide comment to mom, but I actually got a little ill at one point, when they were singing and dancing to Queen and Bowie's "Under Pressure." It was like, "Why can't we give love, give love, give love!" with 100 watt smiles, groovy arm gestures and jazz hands. It was hideous. Freddie Mercury is rolling in his grave. I couldn't help it, I spent the entire number with my jaw hanging open.
Just two follow ups -- my aunt (I'd call her aunt J, but almost all my aunts are aunt J) Tallest retains her reputation for having almost no sense of humor. I was trying to joke with my cousin, and, totally deadpan ('cause that's how I do it, yo), I say "Well, I don't know about you, but I think it's really nice that they cast the differently abled." Before I get a chance to crack a smile, aunt Tallest says "Yeah, that is nice." Then a few minutes later, I'm like "Cousin, I think maybe you and I should try out for this next year." Auntie bites again: "Ooh, you should. You know, boy cousin went to this dance studio once, although he didn't do this . . . blah blah blah." So I try it again to Formerly-Known-As-Mullet-Auntie. "Hey, FKAMA, your daughter and I were thinking about trying out for this next year." She laughs, but unfortunately, Grandma overhears. Grandma agrees that we should (maybe I need to add a smirk to my deadpan face or something -- people rarely get me). Then today we were talking on the phone and she says that she has talked to the Best of Broadway people, and mentioned that she has a granddaughter who sings and dances and plays "guitar in a little band," and that would apparently put me "at the top of the list!" But I'll have to call myself, she didn't give them my name. Yeah. I'll write that number down. (Insert smirk here.)
First, my grandma calls me at like 12:30 and says "well, are you dressed and ready to go?" I answer that I'm dressed, but I don't think I'm going anywhere, because I'm dirty and I stink. She starts to respond that I'd better . . . when I go "Oh! I forgot Best of Broadway! No I didn't! I'm ready! What time are we meeting you?" So, Mom and I meet her for the production. Now, the idea is that they take the best songs from Broadway musicals and do dance numbers to them. But they apparently take absolutely anyone who auditions, and there's no real theme or anything. Also, it would seem that their budget for the cast of like 200 was about $200. I suspect they said something like "Do you have anything khaki, anything white, anything vaguely retro, and some stuff you wouldn't mind us putting glitter on? Great, you've got the part!" And finally, that title might be more accurate if it were "Mediocreist of Broadway Musicals that are Often Unknown and Mostly Thirty Years Old."
At first it seemed very David Lynch to me, but then there was a strange and campy John Waters-esque number, but from there on out it was ALL Christopher Guest. Just like Waiting for Guffman. At one point during "Born to be Wild" my mom leaned over and said "I think I liked him better with the wig." I replied "I think I'd like it better if I couldn't see his ding-ding."
Other low-lights included the tapdance to "Wipeout," the long religious section, the people who just stood in the back as scenery (possibly the board members), the "Napoleon" section (with exceptionally creepy scene between 60-year old Napoleon and 17-year old Josephine, with, by the way, dancers in Victorian underpants doing a sort of ballet, the male in long johns and a flowy shirt) . . . Um, also the ending scenes with everyone pouring into the aisles dressed like Rocky Horror trannies (the creepy people who dance in the front). There was a kid who looked just like the geeky friend in the Wonder Years, and he couldn't keep time (he SO wasn't the only one). There was also a kid in a teal shirt with a glittery mesh shirt over it who came out, rather inexplicably, with glitter smeared all over his top lip, and a do-rag. Oh, and the kids who seemed exceptionally unenthused about singing "Good Vibrations" -- imagine someone very angry or depressed doing the "good, bop bop, good" part.
Most of it was good clean fun, me making the occasional snide comment to mom, but I actually got a little ill at one point, when they were singing and dancing to Queen and Bowie's "Under Pressure." It was like, "Why can't we give love, give love, give love!" with 100 watt smiles, groovy arm gestures and jazz hands. It was hideous. Freddie Mercury is rolling in his grave. I couldn't help it, I spent the entire number with my jaw hanging open.
Just two follow ups -- my aunt (I'd call her aunt J, but almost all my aunts are aunt J) Tallest retains her reputation for having almost no sense of humor. I was trying to joke with my cousin, and, totally deadpan ('cause that's how I do it, yo), I say "Well, I don't know about you, but I think it's really nice that they cast the differently abled." Before I get a chance to crack a smile, aunt Tallest says "Yeah, that is nice." Then a few minutes later, I'm like "Cousin, I think maybe you and I should try out for this next year." Auntie bites again: "Ooh, you should. You know, boy cousin went to this dance studio once, although he didn't do this . . . blah blah blah." So I try it again to Formerly-Known-As-Mullet-Auntie. "Hey, FKAMA, your daughter and I were thinking about trying out for this next year." She laughs, but unfortunately, Grandma overhears. Grandma agrees that we should (maybe I need to add a smirk to my deadpan face or something -- people rarely get me). Then today we were talking on the phone and she says that she has talked to the Best of Broadway people, and mentioned that she has a granddaughter who sings and dances and plays "guitar in a little band," and that would apparently put me "at the top of the list!" But I'll have to call myself, she didn't give them my name. Yeah. I'll write that number down. (Insert smirk here.)
Saturday, September 24, 2005
Busy as a bee
Yeah, only not in a cute way. Whatever you do, do NOT picture me wagging my fanny in a yellow-and-black stripey costume and dancing to "Flight of the Bumblebee."
Um, so, yeah. I started teaching the 7th period, and that's keeping me from home until probably 5 o'clock, but it's really fun. The swing dancing was great, and a bunch of kids who aren't mine joined up, so I'm meeting new students from other years of the program. I'm getting to know my own students a little better, too. Between ballet two nights a week (I paid for three, but haven't been making it), various other engagements, and trying to grade, prepare, keep up on my reading, grocery shopping, keeping my house tidy (definitely falling behind there) . . . well, I'm a little beat. I had planned to be at Gynagirl's birthday party like, right now, but still have about thirty errands and chores before my weekend is over, and most of tomorrow already scheduled away (for good, happy things, but still all booked up).
I've been trying to get to school earlier, and that's probably my biggest time management struggle right now. I won't say I'm not a morning person, but I'm not at my all-time best before about 7:30, and if I'm not already at school by about then, I usually don't have time to do all my running around/copying/bathroom trip/writing stuff on the board/getting out overheads- kind of stuff. Then I feel disorganized and underprepared and yucky, but to get my ass out of the house by 7:15 requires practically a Herculean effort on my part, and almost certainly involves my failure to blow-dry my hair, which helps me look professional (I think). So prepared and unkempt vs. unprepared and professional-looking. I don't want to make that choice, but I also don't want to get my ass out of bed at 5:30, either. I'm going to find a way to make it work, I'm sure, but winter is ALWAYS harder for me in terms of getting out of bed. If it's cold, I can hit the snooze button for half an hour, trying to avoid getting out of bed and hopping into the shower.
Fun stuff this week -- a couple from Midtown Stomp came to school and taught our class several Lindy Hop moves. We borrowed the cafeteria and had a great time. I had dinner with an old friend, her daughter, boyfriend, and two brothers, and it was like a big happy family reunion. They're all people I deeply care about (the friend and her daughter especially), and it was really nice to see them again. We're having a birthday party for Mom tomorrow. Thursday is the big Gynagirl birthday bash at the Distillery. We went to Malouf's for dinner last night and gave them our thank you note. We included a picture of the food (unfortunately the only one we got -- if you have more, would you shoot them our way?), and Rita loved it so much she taped it to the front of the display case of desserts. I'm sure there's more, but I'm tired and need to get to my to-do list.
Take care, all,
CM
Um, so, yeah. I started teaching the 7th period, and that's keeping me from home until probably 5 o'clock, but it's really fun. The swing dancing was great, and a bunch of kids who aren't mine joined up, so I'm meeting new students from other years of the program. I'm getting to know my own students a little better, too. Between ballet two nights a week (I paid for three, but haven't been making it), various other engagements, and trying to grade, prepare, keep up on my reading, grocery shopping, keeping my house tidy (definitely falling behind there) . . . well, I'm a little beat. I had planned to be at Gynagirl's birthday party like, right now, but still have about thirty errands and chores before my weekend is over, and most of tomorrow already scheduled away (for good, happy things, but still all booked up).
I've been trying to get to school earlier, and that's probably my biggest time management struggle right now. I won't say I'm not a morning person, but I'm not at my all-time best before about 7:30, and if I'm not already at school by about then, I usually don't have time to do all my running around/copying/bathroom trip/writing stuff on the board/getting out overheads- kind of stuff. Then I feel disorganized and underprepared and yucky, but to get my ass out of the house by 7:15 requires practically a Herculean effort on my part, and almost certainly involves my failure to blow-dry my hair, which helps me look professional (I think). So prepared and unkempt vs. unprepared and professional-looking. I don't want to make that choice, but I also don't want to get my ass out of bed at 5:30, either. I'm going to find a way to make it work, I'm sure, but winter is ALWAYS harder for me in terms of getting out of bed. If it's cold, I can hit the snooze button for half an hour, trying to avoid getting out of bed and hopping into the shower.
Fun stuff this week -- a couple from Midtown Stomp came to school and taught our class several Lindy Hop moves. We borrowed the cafeteria and had a great time. I had dinner with an old friend, her daughter, boyfriend, and two brothers, and it was like a big happy family reunion. They're all people I deeply care about (the friend and her daughter especially), and it was really nice to see them again. We're having a birthday party for Mom tomorrow. Thursday is the big Gynagirl birthday bash at the Distillery. We went to Malouf's for dinner last night and gave them our thank you note. We included a picture of the food (unfortunately the only one we got -- if you have more, would you shoot them our way?), and Rita loved it so much she taped it to the front of the display case of desserts. I'm sure there's more, but I'm tired and need to get to my to-do list.
Take care, all,
CM
Thursday, September 22, 2005
My god, has your body EVER seen the sun???
I just needed to bring this photo of Monkeygirl's to the world's attention.
Monday, September 19, 2005
More impressions
Well, on the new job, I still wish there were more or closer bathrooms -- really, that's about the worst part of my job, so things could certainly be worse. I am definitely working more, harder, and longer, but I still start every class with a smile. I started teaching my 7th period dance class today -- it turns out that I do know enough about belly dancing to fill an hour. Later this week is swing! I also have a couple phone calls to make to get a hip-hop group and a ballroom/jazz dancer in.
Interestingly, in addition to that whole "no camaraderie" thing, another thing about the staff is that I notice they all dress really nicely. It's kinda strange, like, some of the guys actually wear three piece suits! There are also a profusion of sport jackets, and probably about half the guys wear ties. It results in kind of a positive peer pressure to dress nicely. I'm trying to fit in, but I'm not naturally like that -- I'm more of a casual gal. But I've definitely kicked it up at least one notch -- slacks, ironed shirts, accessories, even heels one day! I'm working on it . . .
Unrelated, the new neighborhood I work in has to be one of the town's hot spots for bad driving. I thought I might be imagining it at first, but after I saw my THIRD driver with a 40 in a paper bag before 4:30 in the afternoon, I realized that no, it really is exceptionally bad. People tailgate, weave in and out, dial cell phones -- I mean, I know it's stuff that happens everywhere, but it really seems to happen in a more condensed fashion out there.
This weekend was pretty cool -- I went swing dancing, we had sushi, I went to see Marty Cohen and the Sidekicks (my friend's dad is a Sidekick), saw my old friend there (it's been almost two years!!!!) and was so thrilled to see her, then Sunday I got to see my friends' new baby, took a nap with my sweetie, and sat at Tupelo to do my planning with a biscotti and a "bowl of soul" (soy milk, chamomile tea, and honey). All in all, a very nice weekend. My mom is out of town, so I sang the birthday song to her cell phone voice mail, but next weekend (another busy one), I'll make my famous German Chocolate cake. Now that I've bragged, it'll probably come out as a pile of crumbs with a scrambled-egg frosting, but I swear it's usually good.
Interestingly, in addition to that whole "no camaraderie" thing, another thing about the staff is that I notice they all dress really nicely. It's kinda strange, like, some of the guys actually wear three piece suits! There are also a profusion of sport jackets, and probably about half the guys wear ties. It results in kind of a positive peer pressure to dress nicely. I'm trying to fit in, but I'm not naturally like that -- I'm more of a casual gal. But I've definitely kicked it up at least one notch -- slacks, ironed shirts, accessories, even heels one day! I'm working on it . . .
Unrelated, the new neighborhood I work in has to be one of the town's hot spots for bad driving. I thought I might be imagining it at first, but after I saw my THIRD driver with a 40 in a paper bag before 4:30 in the afternoon, I realized that no, it really is exceptionally bad. People tailgate, weave in and out, dial cell phones -- I mean, I know it's stuff that happens everywhere, but it really seems to happen in a more condensed fashion out there.
This weekend was pretty cool -- I went swing dancing, we had sushi, I went to see Marty Cohen and the Sidekicks (my friend's dad is a Sidekick), saw my old friend there (it's been almost two years!!!!) and was so thrilled to see her, then Sunday I got to see my friends' new baby, took a nap with my sweetie, and sat at Tupelo to do my planning with a biscotti and a "bowl of soul" (soy milk, chamomile tea, and honey). All in all, a very nice weekend. My mom is out of town, so I sang the birthday song to her cell phone voice mail, but next weekend (another busy one), I'll make my famous German Chocolate cake. Now that I've bragged, it'll probably come out as a pile of crumbs with a scrambled-egg frosting, but I swear it's usually good.
Tuesday, September 13, 2005
Stolen from Gynagirl
I typed "Kara is" in Google and got . . .
Kara is granted asylum in the west
Kara is out on the town with Superman and Batman
E-kara is the first truly portable handheld karaoke system
Kara is serving 25 years - life in an Arizona prison for her part in the crime
Kara is happy and also sad
Kara is a children’s book editor, and she lives in Belmont, Massachusetts
Kara is a leader whose life reflects Christ
Kara is granted asylum in the west
Kara is out on the town with Superman and Batman
E-kara is the first truly portable handheld karaoke system
Kara is serving 25 years - life in an Arizona prison for her part in the crime
Kara is happy and also sad
Kara is a children’s book editor, and she lives in Belmont, Massachusetts
Kara is a leader whose life reflects Christ
Monday, September 12, 2005
The reception and all . . .
Well, I was asked at lunch today how the weekend had gone, and I said that it had been one of the best weekends of my life. The statement came out spontaneously, but the more I think about it, the more I think it's true. First the details, and then some reflections.
On Thursday evening we got Toltec1 at the airport and went to dinner at Celestin's. We had a nice evening and I retired fairly early because I had to work in the morning. Friday was a good day at school (although I inadvertently freaked out my IB class by mentioning offhandedly this semester's big project), and I came home to the news that Piggs' family was mostly in town, staying at a nearby hotel. We made reservations at a Chinese restaurant I've been to off and on since I was a kid -- it's not spectacular, but it's good, and well-suited for large groups. I went to Mom's to help set up a little, although frankly I couldn't stay long and wasn't much help. Sora, Monkeygirl and G3 (and of course my mom, who never stops) did all the real work. I wrapped up some silverware, ate some pizza, and took off. I got Piggs and T1 and we went to the hotel and hung out very briefly, as our reservation time rapidly approached. We all had a nice dinner (all 15 of us!), then retired to the hotel. I was concerned about the weather, because our big plan was that September might not be crazy Sacramento summer hot, but that it would be comfortable. Well, it was COLD Friday night. I started to be terrified that we'd have winds and people would have to retreat indoors. I also missed the Papayas (they don't yet have a fake blogger name, so I'm assigning one -- the Papayas are our Portlandian married friends), who had gotten lost, were staying farther away, and were too tired to make it out Friday night. I assured them we'd see them in the morning, and told them to get some rest and wind down.
We stayed quite late at the family's hotel, the kids swimming, the men arguing about Hurricane Katrina and its aftermath, and most of the girls sprawled on one of the beds giggling. Then in the morning, we went back to the hotel to join them for breakfast at the cafe there. It was kind of a sit down thing and kind of a buffet. I had to make my own waffle, but they brought us eggs and coffee. Hard to know what to tip. Anyway, then we all sort of parted ways so that they could see the town -- they apparently had a good time at the railroad museum (which I secretly enjoy, too, but I had a busy day and I've been more recently). I did some errands, including picking up my frickin' rad new chair, and the boys (including Eldest Nephew) played video games and ate Doritos. Then everyone met us at the house to see the place for the first time (there were other comings and goings, but I'm condensing), and were very impressed (or very kind). I'm awfully glad we went to all the trouble we did this summer making it look good. Even funnier, everyone thought the cinderblock construction was really cool. We even briefly fooled a couple people who thought the floor was hardwood! MiL thanked me for sharing "my" home, and I reminded her that it was her son's home, too.
Then the frenzy began! We packed up the stereo (but alas, not the power cord, which had to be retrieved later), grabbed an extra pair of comfy shoes, sweatshirts, etc, and went to Malouf's to pick up the food. When we got there, we thought there might have been a mistake -- we had only ordered a few items, none of them hot, but practically the whole front of the restaurant was covered in serving trays, chafing dishes, to-go containers, bags, and the Malouf's daughter was cutting up desserts into more containers. We also noticed labels for things we hadn't ordered -- Moussaka and Mujadara written in Sharpie on the aluminum foil. We hesitated and asked more than once "this too? Is this ours?" They assured us that it was, so we packed the car, then T1 and I waited while Piggs paid. It was taking a long time (they were packing yet more things into containers), so I went back in to check on what was going on, worried there was a problem like that they'd misunderstood our order and the price had doubled or something. No. The price was exactly as stated for the, like, THREE things we ordered, and they'd completely filled my car with food. I almost cried. It's true that we're regulars, and that we always make conversation with the Maloufs, but we've done nothing to deserve the amazing generosity they showed us. I don't even know what to say. But we will continue to be regulars for as long as they are in the restaurant business, and spread the word as much as possible. Malouf's Taste of Lebanon on Fulton Ave. Go.
Anyway, then we didn't have room for ice, which we had also planned to bring, so we went straight to Mom's, where Boompah had already gotten 120 lbs of ice. I looked in the backyard and it was like a dream. It was beautiful. It was everything I could have imagined and more -- Sora had spent most of the day at Mom's decorating, and it was incredible. Again I was moved almost to tears (gotta hold back, trying to look pretty, here). I had mentioned to G3 months ago that it would be awfully nice to have a calligraphy of the "double happiness" symbol to hang, but then hadn't mentioned it again, thinking that he was so busy with school, work, art, aikido, and everything else he does that he mightn't have time. I was a little embarrassed on reflection to have asked. But when I walked into the backyard, there were not only two beautiful "double happiness" characters on white against a vivid red background, there was a perfect "love" centered between them. I rushed to put out little Asian bowls filled with water, and cut spider mums into them. We set up the stereo and food table, did all the other last minute stuff, and right at 7:29, an absolute FLOOD of our loved ones started pouring through the gate. I would barely get to greet an uncle when a much-loved co-worker would pop up behind, then a friend I've known since middle school who came all the way from Colorado, then a new in-law, then friends of my Mom's who have been very kind to me, then my closest friends . . . it went on and on. After an initial flurry of conversations and greetings, I went to sit down with a plate of the delicous food (from Malouf's on Fulton!) with some of my cousins and aunts and uncles who I haven't seen recently. I tried hard to sit down and talk, however briefly, with everyone, but I just couldn't make it around. Some cousins got not much more than a drive-by kissing, and there were co-workers of Piggs' I didn't even meet. I noticed that Piggs and T1 were doing most of the food serving and running out from the kitchen to the table almost nonstop. I was a little concerned that they didn't get a chance to relax, but I was so involved in trying to talk to people I didn't give it much thought. T1 gave a lovely toast, we cut the cake (both with much paparazzi flashbulb-popping), and then the goodbyes went almost as fast as the hellos, with a mass exodus at what almost had to be some premeditated time I was not aware of. I talked a little longer with some of my old co-workers (whom I am very homesick for), and then was called inside to open some presents. Where I discovered something.
At this point, all I will say is that my lovely, kind, intelligent husband drank much more champagne on an empty stomach than Andre the Giant could have reasonably handled, we are now out of both Pepto Bismol and Mylanta, we have a load of blankets and towels in the dryer, and he has sworn off alcohol. Poor thing. But as I said to youngest niece "Our bodies are amazing things -- when we eat or drink something that's bad for us, our bodies go 'Nope!' and we throw up to get rid of the bad stuff."
The next morning was very nice, too. The Papayas and our Arizona friends called and said "make coffee, we're coming over!" I ran to Bel Air to get not only extra coffee, but bagels, fruit and cinnamon rolls as well. We had a nice relaxing morning of conversation until, unfortunately, they all had to go. I know Piggs and I both would have loved to have much more time with all of them. Then much of Piggs' family came by (his older sister's family had left early to go to Disneyland, and our other brother-in-law had also flown out in the morning) and we chatted and relaxed. I offered to take my FiL and SMiL to the airport, at least partly to talk to them a little bit more -- I've never really talked much with my FiL, and I think he's interesting. In fact, I grilled him on some of the family heirlooms we have in the house, and he talked with me about some of the art of his that we're hanging in our place.
From the airport, I took youngest niece and went to Mom's house to clean up, but almost everything was already done (I really got off easy on the workload for this thing, although I didn't plan it that way and feel a little guilty that I didn't do more). Piggs, T1, and remaining family came to Mom's and we cleaned a little and chatted and played a lot, and then they had to go as well.
Sunday evening I took the boys to the game store, then we came home and I did a little schoolwork, then we kind of just vegged and ate leftover middle eastern food (From Malouf's! It was delicious!). I thought (and was hoping) that Colorado friend was going to call and come over, but she didn't. I'm awfully sorry I didn't get to talk to her more, because I really miss her, but at the same time I was massively tired (hardly got any sleep Saturday night, trying to convince Piggs he was too uncool to die like Jimi Hendrix, and that I was not, in fact, his ex-girlfriend).
Today it was back to school, and fobbing off of the leftover cake on my co-workers (free food and teachers is always a winning combination), and this afternoon, taking T1 to the airport. Then more leftovers from Malouf's Taste of Lebanon on Fulton Ave. Mmm. I was sad to see him go, and we're trying to convince him to move to Cali to be closer to us. I think it would be good for everyone involved. Hear me T1? Move down.
On to the reflections portion I promised: Having a wonderful new family is the second best part of this marriage (a wonderful husband is naturally first). I love being an aunt, and being called all the aunt names (including nicknames that used to be for Piggs only), and talking with my new sisters and . . . the whole thing, really. I already love being part of my Mockula family, and I just doubled my joy. It's true that there is no end of love we are capable of -- that you can just keep on producing and producing new love all the time, and add new people to the love list, and your heart will never run out, simply increase. I'm absolutely thrilled. I'm overcome.
Second -- a friend of my mom's mentioned (as did many people) how nice, cool, wonderful, loving, interesting, supportive, and generally wonderful my friends and family are. I responded, "You know, I'm not a spiritual person, but there is just no doubt that I am blessed." I don't think any word less strong than that begins to cover it. "Blessed" may not cover it either. And I know it, and I'm thankful for it.
Third -- Wedding receptions maybe should be a rotating affair, where over the course of a weekend you schedule people in groups of five or so for an hour or more at a time, so that you really have an opportunity to talk with everyone, kiss all the babies, catch up on everyone else's lives. With all those wonderful people around, it was a shame not to be able to devote my full attention to more of them for longer. Of course, I know that's how those things go and that people understand, but it reminds me that I do need to make some individual time for all those people I've been promising to have dinner with. Could it possibly be less important than an evening of planning for school, going to the gym or ballet, or watching a movie? Um, no.
Fourth -- Little C arrived (my friends' baby), and I've seen pictures and she is beautiful. Congratulations to them, and welcome to the world, baby! Could there have been more joy in Sacramento in one weekend?
Fifth -- Abdul, Rita, and Layal Malouf; I am writing a thorough thank-you note, but I will never be able to thank them enough. My first wedding (ptooie) was preceded by what I later called bad omens -- tons of them, raining down one after the other, like the universe was attempting to smack me in the forehead and tell me to run in the other direction. If those were omens, then the unprecendented and undeserved generosity the Maloufs showed us had to be the opposite -- the universe giving us its enthusiastic thumbs-up. The only thing we were missing was a shaft of light and a choir of angels. If my heart was like a sponge for love and generosity, then it would not only have filled my chest cavity, it would have exploded out of me, filling the house, the neighborhood, the town, the state, the planet . . . if it was a visual it would have looked like one of the Care Bears shooting rainbows out of his chest. It was unbelieveable.
Sixth -- Mom. I can never repay your generosity. I can't even say this to your face. But I will live to be a good friend, a good teacher, a good mother, a good wife, a good person. That might cover a tenth of it.
Seventh -- So many other people helped make this possible, going to great lengths, and I probably won't be able to properly thank them, either, but thanks to everyone who took time to come from out of town, who paid for air fares or gas, who took time off work, or spent 9 hours in a car with their mother and two kids. Thanks to everyone who gave me words of support and love, who love me and love my husband, too. Thanks to Monkeygirl, who did a great deal of the preparation, organization, and for thinking of things (and then providing them) that I wouldn't have. And who got us entirely too generous a present, even after all she did for us. Thanks to Boompah, who has not only already provided our honeymoon, but who also offered up (with my mom) his home to about eighty strangers, who provided the beer, who was pretty much the bartender all night, and who is my Boompah. Thanks to G3, who not only remembered my request for calligraphy, but outdid himself in their beauty and artistry, then devoted time to helping decorate and set up as well, and whom I barely said two words to at the party. To Sora, who as I've already said, basically made my dream of the site come to fruition, and to whom I also said only a few words. To that list I'll add Leafy Greens, who flew from Portland and got little more than a hug, although I hope to see him tomorrow, too. And my Dad, who picked up, dropped off, broke down, loaded and unloaded all the chairs and tables, mostly without catching so much as a glimpse of me -- thank you.
Eighth -- To T1, who spent the entire party basically serving other people, then spent much of the night taking care of my husband. T1 knows how I feel about him. I hope he moves down.
Ninth -- And last, unless I think of more, to my husband, for with T1, doing all the food service. But also and especially for just being my loving husband, loving me spectacularly, tremendously, wholly, unconditionally (or if there are conditions, I haven't met them yet), and well. I don't think I've made a better decision in this lifetime than taking your hand.
Love to everybody. Hope you can feel it from where you are. I bet you can.
On Thursday evening we got Toltec1 at the airport and went to dinner at Celestin's. We had a nice evening and I retired fairly early because I had to work in the morning. Friday was a good day at school (although I inadvertently freaked out my IB class by mentioning offhandedly this semester's big project), and I came home to the news that Piggs' family was mostly in town, staying at a nearby hotel. We made reservations at a Chinese restaurant I've been to off and on since I was a kid -- it's not spectacular, but it's good, and well-suited for large groups. I went to Mom's to help set up a little, although frankly I couldn't stay long and wasn't much help. Sora, Monkeygirl and G3 (and of course my mom, who never stops) did all the real work. I wrapped up some silverware, ate some pizza, and took off. I got Piggs and T1 and we went to the hotel and hung out very briefly, as our reservation time rapidly approached. We all had a nice dinner (all 15 of us!), then retired to the hotel. I was concerned about the weather, because our big plan was that September might not be crazy Sacramento summer hot, but that it would be comfortable. Well, it was COLD Friday night. I started to be terrified that we'd have winds and people would have to retreat indoors. I also missed the Papayas (they don't yet have a fake blogger name, so I'm assigning one -- the Papayas are our Portlandian married friends), who had gotten lost, were staying farther away, and were too tired to make it out Friday night. I assured them we'd see them in the morning, and told them to get some rest and wind down.
We stayed quite late at the family's hotel, the kids swimming, the men arguing about Hurricane Katrina and its aftermath, and most of the girls sprawled on one of the beds giggling. Then in the morning, we went back to the hotel to join them for breakfast at the cafe there. It was kind of a sit down thing and kind of a buffet. I had to make my own waffle, but they brought us eggs and coffee. Hard to know what to tip. Anyway, then we all sort of parted ways so that they could see the town -- they apparently had a good time at the railroad museum (which I secretly enjoy, too, but I had a busy day and I've been more recently). I did some errands, including picking up my frickin' rad new chair, and the boys (including Eldest Nephew) played video games and ate Doritos. Then everyone met us at the house to see the place for the first time (there were other comings and goings, but I'm condensing), and were very impressed (or very kind). I'm awfully glad we went to all the trouble we did this summer making it look good. Even funnier, everyone thought the cinderblock construction was really cool. We even briefly fooled a couple people who thought the floor was hardwood! MiL thanked me for sharing "my" home, and I reminded her that it was her son's home, too.
Then the frenzy began! We packed up the stereo (but alas, not the power cord, which had to be retrieved later), grabbed an extra pair of comfy shoes, sweatshirts, etc, and went to Malouf's to pick up the food. When we got there, we thought there might have been a mistake -- we had only ordered a few items, none of them hot, but practically the whole front of the restaurant was covered in serving trays, chafing dishes, to-go containers, bags, and the Malouf's daughter was cutting up desserts into more containers. We also noticed labels for things we hadn't ordered -- Moussaka and Mujadara written in Sharpie on the aluminum foil. We hesitated and asked more than once "this too? Is this ours?" They assured us that it was, so we packed the car, then T1 and I waited while Piggs paid. It was taking a long time (they were packing yet more things into containers), so I went back in to check on what was going on, worried there was a problem like that they'd misunderstood our order and the price had doubled or something. No. The price was exactly as stated for the, like, THREE things we ordered, and they'd completely filled my car with food. I almost cried. It's true that we're regulars, and that we always make conversation with the Maloufs, but we've done nothing to deserve the amazing generosity they showed us. I don't even know what to say. But we will continue to be regulars for as long as they are in the restaurant business, and spread the word as much as possible. Malouf's Taste of Lebanon on Fulton Ave. Go.
Anyway, then we didn't have room for ice, which we had also planned to bring, so we went straight to Mom's, where Boompah had already gotten 120 lbs of ice. I looked in the backyard and it was like a dream. It was beautiful. It was everything I could have imagined and more -- Sora had spent most of the day at Mom's decorating, and it was incredible. Again I was moved almost to tears (gotta hold back, trying to look pretty, here). I had mentioned to G3 months ago that it would be awfully nice to have a calligraphy of the "double happiness" symbol to hang, but then hadn't mentioned it again, thinking that he was so busy with school, work, art, aikido, and everything else he does that he mightn't have time. I was a little embarrassed on reflection to have asked. But when I walked into the backyard, there were not only two beautiful "double happiness" characters on white against a vivid red background, there was a perfect "love" centered between them. I rushed to put out little Asian bowls filled with water, and cut spider mums into them. We set up the stereo and food table, did all the other last minute stuff, and right at 7:29, an absolute FLOOD of our loved ones started pouring through the gate. I would barely get to greet an uncle when a much-loved co-worker would pop up behind, then a friend I've known since middle school who came all the way from Colorado, then a new in-law, then friends of my Mom's who have been very kind to me, then my closest friends . . . it went on and on. After an initial flurry of conversations and greetings, I went to sit down with a plate of the delicous food (from Malouf's on Fulton!) with some of my cousins and aunts and uncles who I haven't seen recently. I tried hard to sit down and talk, however briefly, with everyone, but I just couldn't make it around. Some cousins got not much more than a drive-by kissing, and there were co-workers of Piggs' I didn't even meet. I noticed that Piggs and T1 were doing most of the food serving and running out from the kitchen to the table almost nonstop. I was a little concerned that they didn't get a chance to relax, but I was so involved in trying to talk to people I didn't give it much thought. T1 gave a lovely toast, we cut the cake (both with much paparazzi flashbulb-popping), and then the goodbyes went almost as fast as the hellos, with a mass exodus at what almost had to be some premeditated time I was not aware of. I talked a little longer with some of my old co-workers (whom I am very homesick for), and then was called inside to open some presents. Where I discovered something.
At this point, all I will say is that my lovely, kind, intelligent husband drank much more champagne on an empty stomach than Andre the Giant could have reasonably handled, we are now out of both Pepto Bismol and Mylanta, we have a load of blankets and towels in the dryer, and he has sworn off alcohol. Poor thing. But as I said to youngest niece "Our bodies are amazing things -- when we eat or drink something that's bad for us, our bodies go 'Nope!' and we throw up to get rid of the bad stuff."
The next morning was very nice, too. The Papayas and our Arizona friends called and said "make coffee, we're coming over!" I ran to Bel Air to get not only extra coffee, but bagels, fruit and cinnamon rolls as well. We had a nice relaxing morning of conversation until, unfortunately, they all had to go. I know Piggs and I both would have loved to have much more time with all of them. Then much of Piggs' family came by (his older sister's family had left early to go to Disneyland, and our other brother-in-law had also flown out in the morning) and we chatted and relaxed. I offered to take my FiL and SMiL to the airport, at least partly to talk to them a little bit more -- I've never really talked much with my FiL, and I think he's interesting. In fact, I grilled him on some of the family heirlooms we have in the house, and he talked with me about some of the art of his that we're hanging in our place.
From the airport, I took youngest niece and went to Mom's house to clean up, but almost everything was already done (I really got off easy on the workload for this thing, although I didn't plan it that way and feel a little guilty that I didn't do more). Piggs, T1, and remaining family came to Mom's and we cleaned a little and chatted and played a lot, and then they had to go as well.
Sunday evening I took the boys to the game store, then we came home and I did a little schoolwork, then we kind of just vegged and ate leftover middle eastern food (From Malouf's! It was delicious!). I thought (and was hoping) that Colorado friend was going to call and come over, but she didn't. I'm awfully sorry I didn't get to talk to her more, because I really miss her, but at the same time I was massively tired (hardly got any sleep Saturday night, trying to convince Piggs he was too uncool to die like Jimi Hendrix, and that I was not, in fact, his ex-girlfriend).
Today it was back to school, and fobbing off of the leftover cake on my co-workers (free food and teachers is always a winning combination), and this afternoon, taking T1 to the airport. Then more leftovers from Malouf's Taste of Lebanon on Fulton Ave. Mmm. I was sad to see him go, and we're trying to convince him to move to Cali to be closer to us. I think it would be good for everyone involved. Hear me T1? Move down.
On to the reflections portion I promised: Having a wonderful new family is the second best part of this marriage (a wonderful husband is naturally first). I love being an aunt, and being called all the aunt names (including nicknames that used to be for Piggs only), and talking with my new sisters and . . . the whole thing, really. I already love being part of my Mockula family, and I just doubled my joy. It's true that there is no end of love we are capable of -- that you can just keep on producing and producing new love all the time, and add new people to the love list, and your heart will never run out, simply increase. I'm absolutely thrilled. I'm overcome.
Second -- a friend of my mom's mentioned (as did many people) how nice, cool, wonderful, loving, interesting, supportive, and generally wonderful my friends and family are. I responded, "You know, I'm not a spiritual person, but there is just no doubt that I am blessed." I don't think any word less strong than that begins to cover it. "Blessed" may not cover it either. And I know it, and I'm thankful for it.
Third -- Wedding receptions maybe should be a rotating affair, where over the course of a weekend you schedule people in groups of five or so for an hour or more at a time, so that you really have an opportunity to talk with everyone, kiss all the babies, catch up on everyone else's lives. With all those wonderful people around, it was a shame not to be able to devote my full attention to more of them for longer. Of course, I know that's how those things go and that people understand, but it reminds me that I do need to make some individual time for all those people I've been promising to have dinner with. Could it possibly be less important than an evening of planning for school, going to the gym or ballet, or watching a movie? Um, no.
Fourth -- Little C arrived (my friends' baby), and I've seen pictures and she is beautiful. Congratulations to them, and welcome to the world, baby! Could there have been more joy in Sacramento in one weekend?
Fifth -- Abdul, Rita, and Layal Malouf; I am writing a thorough thank-you note, but I will never be able to thank them enough. My first wedding (ptooie) was preceded by what I later called bad omens -- tons of them, raining down one after the other, like the universe was attempting to smack me in the forehead and tell me to run in the other direction. If those were omens, then the unprecendented and undeserved generosity the Maloufs showed us had to be the opposite -- the universe giving us its enthusiastic thumbs-up. The only thing we were missing was a shaft of light and a choir of angels. If my heart was like a sponge for love and generosity, then it would not only have filled my chest cavity, it would have exploded out of me, filling the house, the neighborhood, the town, the state, the planet . . . if it was a visual it would have looked like one of the Care Bears shooting rainbows out of his chest. It was unbelieveable.
Sixth -- Mom. I can never repay your generosity. I can't even say this to your face. But I will live to be a good friend, a good teacher, a good mother, a good wife, a good person. That might cover a tenth of it.
Seventh -- So many other people helped make this possible, going to great lengths, and I probably won't be able to properly thank them, either, but thanks to everyone who took time to come from out of town, who paid for air fares or gas, who took time off work, or spent 9 hours in a car with their mother and two kids. Thanks to everyone who gave me words of support and love, who love me and love my husband, too. Thanks to Monkeygirl, who did a great deal of the preparation, organization, and for thinking of things (and then providing them) that I wouldn't have. And who got us entirely too generous a present, even after all she did for us. Thanks to Boompah, who has not only already provided our honeymoon, but who also offered up (with my mom) his home to about eighty strangers, who provided the beer, who was pretty much the bartender all night, and who is my Boompah. Thanks to G3, who not only remembered my request for calligraphy, but outdid himself in their beauty and artistry, then devoted time to helping decorate and set up as well, and whom I barely said two words to at the party. To Sora, who as I've already said, basically made my dream of the site come to fruition, and to whom I also said only a few words. To that list I'll add Leafy Greens, who flew from Portland and got little more than a hug, although I hope to see him tomorrow, too. And my Dad, who picked up, dropped off, broke down, loaded and unloaded all the chairs and tables, mostly without catching so much as a glimpse of me -- thank you.
Eighth -- To T1, who spent the entire party basically serving other people, then spent much of the night taking care of my husband. T1 knows how I feel about him. I hope he moves down.
Ninth -- And last, unless I think of more, to my husband, for with T1, doing all the food service. But also and especially for just being my loving husband, loving me spectacularly, tremendously, wholly, unconditionally (or if there are conditions, I haven't met them yet), and well. I don't think I've made a better decision in this lifetime than taking your hand.
Love to everybody. Hope you can feel it from where you are. I bet you can.
Friday, September 09, 2005
Those darn kids!
Well, my students have proven themselves to be incredibly precocious in terms of finding stuff out about me (some examples -- they were singing my band's songs yesterday, one of them has already added me as a friend on MySpace, and when I said I was busy this weekend, someone answered "Oh, because you have your wedding reception Saturday, right?") It's a little creepy. In any case, it's only a matter of time before they locate the ol' Count Mockula blog. Sigh. Well, I'll try not to smack-talk about them. =)
So the first week of school is over. Whew. I'm decompressing a bit. Although I've taught three preps before (three different subjects, to the non-teacher crowd), at the last school I could sort of stretch it so that one lesson, varied slightly, could suffice for two classes. Not so, here. Just a quick update, because I only have a couple hours to rest, figure out what Piggs and Toltec want to do for dinner, and get to mom's.
Good stuff: These kids rule. They make eye contact, say good morning, shake hands, roll over . . . okay, not roll over, but they are exponentially more mature than a simple couple-year age difference would have led me to expect. It's cool. They get my jokes and stuff. I can give them fairly complicated instructions and they can roll with it. The campus is really lovely, thanks in part to a ceramics teacher whose students' work is all over the school. Other teachers and the staff have generally been really friendly and helpful. I especially like the people I've been working most closely with, which is a big bonus. There are opportunities that were simply not available to me before. Here's a great example: I idly mention at lunch on Wednesday that I'd like to get my kids into the "one book one Sacrameneto" program where everybody reads the same book in October. I asked if there were funds to buy a class set of books. Within 26 hours, books are on their way and we are arranging buses to take some students to meet the author. I can actually do FUN stuff. I haven't taken a field trip since my first year teaching, and I'm already in on two for this autumn alone.
Bad stuff: Mainly, I'm still getting used to procedural stuff -- like that I have to take my own copy paper to the copy room. There's ONE women's staff restroom for a staff of 120. The others are under construction, or for the handicapped (you can use them, but the curtains don't close completely, so a person-with-a-disability might roll in at any minute and peek through the curtains at you on the pot). There's another restroom my key doesn't seem to open. It's a LONG walk anywhere else on campus. There's no real staff lunchroom, and therefore not much opportunity for camaraderie, or to make new friends. And on that note, I really miss my friends from the old school. I knew I would. I mean, I had co-workers I liked, and I had co-workers who were my support system, my mid-day stress relief, my comic interludes, my bosom friends. Someone is using my classroom 7th period for a Spanish class -- it's not like that's a real strain, but I can't go write on the board, or turn my radio on, or sit on the floor and make posters like I used to during my prep. The teacher is nice, I like her, but it is just a bit of an imposition. Plus, it's a longer day by an hour and 5 minutes. And because we're salaried, not hourly, there's no pay raise for the additional 180 hours a year.
On to the weekend! It seems that my FiL and SMiL have arrived in town and are at their hotel. My SiL, MiL, and niece and nephew should arrive this evening. More family is coming tonight and tomorrow. I'm going over to mom's with Monkeygirl, Sora, and maybe others to decorate tonight. I am so glad we got married the way we did, on the down low, as it were, but this whole celebratory thing is going to be fun, too. I'm looking forward to it.
So the first week of school is over. Whew. I'm decompressing a bit. Although I've taught three preps before (three different subjects, to the non-teacher crowd), at the last school I could sort of stretch it so that one lesson, varied slightly, could suffice for two classes. Not so, here. Just a quick update, because I only have a couple hours to rest, figure out what Piggs and Toltec want to do for dinner, and get to mom's.
Good stuff: These kids rule. They make eye contact, say good morning, shake hands, roll over . . . okay, not roll over, but they are exponentially more mature than a simple couple-year age difference would have led me to expect. It's cool. They get my jokes and stuff. I can give them fairly complicated instructions and they can roll with it. The campus is really lovely, thanks in part to a ceramics teacher whose students' work is all over the school. Other teachers and the staff have generally been really friendly and helpful. I especially like the people I've been working most closely with, which is a big bonus. There are opportunities that were simply not available to me before. Here's a great example: I idly mention at lunch on Wednesday that I'd like to get my kids into the "one book one Sacrameneto" program where everybody reads the same book in October. I asked if there were funds to buy a class set of books. Within 26 hours, books are on their way and we are arranging buses to take some students to meet the author. I can actually do FUN stuff. I haven't taken a field trip since my first year teaching, and I'm already in on two for this autumn alone.
Bad stuff: Mainly, I'm still getting used to procedural stuff -- like that I have to take my own copy paper to the copy room. There's ONE women's staff restroom for a staff of 120. The others are under construction, or for the handicapped (you can use them, but the curtains don't close completely, so a person-with-a-disability might roll in at any minute and peek through the curtains at you on the pot). There's another restroom my key doesn't seem to open. It's a LONG walk anywhere else on campus. There's no real staff lunchroom, and therefore not much opportunity for camaraderie, or to make new friends. And on that note, I really miss my friends from the old school. I knew I would. I mean, I had co-workers I liked, and I had co-workers who were my support system, my mid-day stress relief, my comic interludes, my bosom friends. Someone is using my classroom 7th period for a Spanish class -- it's not like that's a real strain, but I can't go write on the board, or turn my radio on, or sit on the floor and make posters like I used to during my prep. The teacher is nice, I like her, but it is just a bit of an imposition. Plus, it's a longer day by an hour and 5 minutes. And because we're salaried, not hourly, there's no pay raise for the additional 180 hours a year.
On to the weekend! It seems that my FiL and SMiL have arrived in town and are at their hotel. My SiL, MiL, and niece and nephew should arrive this evening. More family is coming tonight and tomorrow. I'm going over to mom's with Monkeygirl, Sora, and maybe others to decorate tonight. I am so glad we got married the way we did, on the down low, as it were, but this whole celebratory thing is going to be fun, too. I'm looking forward to it.
Friday, September 02, 2005
New school year
I think I get more nervous about the beginning of the school year than the kids. I even went back to school shopping. Although there are good things about back to school shopping as an adult: A: I have more money. B: I have better taste C: I am not at all concerned whether my peers think I'm cool. Or the kids, for that matter.
Of course, I have more back to school preparation to do than the kids. Besides just making sure I have a well stocked backpack, I have to have a syllabus, all my materials, textbooks, copies, a plan for the next quarter at least, lesson plans at least a week out, my room cleaned, set up, and generally "ready." I've already spent something like 6 days on campus for various trainings and meetings. I'm teaching 3 completely different courses, and one of those, I've been assured, should really count as two (they're both 11th grade, but one group of kids has had good instruction for the last two years, and the other, maybe not so much, plus there are a lot of English learners in the class).
I also have to purchase a bunch of stuff -- well, don't have to, but plan to. To make the room more homey, I'm going to get a couple comfy chairs and some plants and stuff. I also found out that I have a budget of $300, which sounds sweet until you realize that I have to provide pens, pencils, a classroom library, highlighters, overhead transparency paper, staples, tape, paper clips, and all the paper for all the copies I make (and I have to make at least 6,000 copies just for the 11th grade program in the first semester).
Other thoughts -- I find myself thinking that this might be a very different job from my last in more ways than I expected. I feel like I might be a whole lot more passionate about this, and throw myself into it more. Not that I wasn't a good, involved teacher at the last school, but I can already see myself becoming really attached. Which is both good and bad. Being really passionate about your job is wonderful and fulfilling, but at the same time, I can already see myself encroaching on my self-imposed limits, like not bringing work home every night and weekend. I used to get all my work done at school most of the time, then leave with a free brain. I don't know, que sera sera I guess.
Marginally funny moments from the last few days.
Tuesday a.m.
Nicely dressed lady: Is there a bathroom open around here?
Me: Yeah, the student bathroom right there, but it's really filthy.
NDL: Oh, well do you want to follow me to the staff bathroom?
Me: (A little abashed) Um. No, I used it anyway.
NDL: Oh, great! You're going to fit right in if you can face challenges like that!
Principal: Bob will be filling in for Ms. Lee until November, when he will take over for Ms. King, because it's required here that all female assistant principals are pregnant. Mr. Peterson is working on it.
(I KNOW he meant working on becoming pregnant, but it really sounded like working on knocking everybody else up.)
I'm wearing purple shoes with flowers on them at orientation, and the social studies teacher says "Nice shoes. [Long pause.] You know, I couldn't wear shoes like that. I'd get my ass kicked."
IB coordinator, grabbing keyboard and mouse off a table in a darkened room and pushing them into my arms; "Well, there's probably a checkout procedure for these . . ."
Again addressing the bathroom issues, Social Studies teacher says "Is there a men's bathroom open around here?"
IB coordinator: "I don't know. There's a women's . . ."
Male English teacher: "What the hell, I used the women's bathroom all last year because the men's was so far away." (Here he looks rather shamedly at me.)
Me: "Oh, I don't care, I've got no problem using a men's restroom."
IBC: "I've heard some women can do that."
Me: "No, I use the stall, but I did read a whole web site about how to pee standing up, and I tried it in the shower, but it wasn't really that successful . . . " (Here I notice all three men turned to look at me.) "Huh. Maybe I should just keep myself to myself for the first month or so."
Mr. Peterson: Okay, we're going to introduce ourselves, but to help me remember your names, I'd like you to think of an animal that starts with the same letter as your last name. Mr. Tafoya and I will model it. I'm Jim Peterson, so . . . Peterson, Penguin! Got it? Mr. Tafoya, go ahead.
Mr. Tafoya: I'm the Singing Sparrow.
Mr. Peterson: No, say your name first.
Mr. Tafoya: I'm Mr. Tafoya, the Singing Sparrow.
Mr. Peterson: No, your animal is supposed to start with the same letter as your last name.
Mr. Tafoya: What's that?
It may have even gone on longer than that. I swear I thought they were going to go into "who's on first."
Of course, I have more back to school preparation to do than the kids. Besides just making sure I have a well stocked backpack, I have to have a syllabus, all my materials, textbooks, copies, a plan for the next quarter at least, lesson plans at least a week out, my room cleaned, set up, and generally "ready." I've already spent something like 6 days on campus for various trainings and meetings. I'm teaching 3 completely different courses, and one of those, I've been assured, should really count as two (they're both 11th grade, but one group of kids has had good instruction for the last two years, and the other, maybe not so much, plus there are a lot of English learners in the class).
I also have to purchase a bunch of stuff -- well, don't have to, but plan to. To make the room more homey, I'm going to get a couple comfy chairs and some plants and stuff. I also found out that I have a budget of $300, which sounds sweet until you realize that I have to provide pens, pencils, a classroom library, highlighters, overhead transparency paper, staples, tape, paper clips, and all the paper for all the copies I make (and I have to make at least 6,000 copies just for the 11th grade program in the first semester).
Other thoughts -- I find myself thinking that this might be a very different job from my last in more ways than I expected. I feel like I might be a whole lot more passionate about this, and throw myself into it more. Not that I wasn't a good, involved teacher at the last school, but I can already see myself becoming really attached. Which is both good and bad. Being really passionate about your job is wonderful and fulfilling, but at the same time, I can already see myself encroaching on my self-imposed limits, like not bringing work home every night and weekend. I used to get all my work done at school most of the time, then leave with a free brain. I don't know, que sera sera I guess.
Marginally funny moments from the last few days.
Tuesday a.m.
Nicely dressed lady: Is there a bathroom open around here?
Me: Yeah, the student bathroom right there, but it's really filthy.
NDL: Oh, well do you want to follow me to the staff bathroom?
Me: (A little abashed) Um. No, I used it anyway.
NDL: Oh, great! You're going to fit right in if you can face challenges like that!
Principal: Bob will be filling in for Ms. Lee until November, when he will take over for Ms. King, because it's required here that all female assistant principals are pregnant. Mr. Peterson is working on it.
(I KNOW he meant working on becoming pregnant, but it really sounded like working on knocking everybody else up.)
I'm wearing purple shoes with flowers on them at orientation, and the social studies teacher says "Nice shoes. [Long pause.] You know, I couldn't wear shoes like that. I'd get my ass kicked."
IB coordinator, grabbing keyboard and mouse off a table in a darkened room and pushing them into my arms; "Well, there's probably a checkout procedure for these . . ."
Again addressing the bathroom issues, Social Studies teacher says "Is there a men's bathroom open around here?"
IB coordinator: "I don't know. There's a women's . . ."
Male English teacher: "What the hell, I used the women's bathroom all last year because the men's was so far away." (Here he looks rather shamedly at me.)
Me: "Oh, I don't care, I've got no problem using a men's restroom."
IBC: "I've heard some women can do that."
Me: "No, I use the stall, but I did read a whole web site about how to pee standing up, and I tried it in the shower, but it wasn't really that successful . . . " (Here I notice all three men turned to look at me.) "Huh. Maybe I should just keep myself to myself for the first month or so."
Mr. Peterson: Okay, we're going to introduce ourselves, but to help me remember your names, I'd like you to think of an animal that starts with the same letter as your last name. Mr. Tafoya and I will model it. I'm Jim Peterson, so . . . Peterson, Penguin! Got it? Mr. Tafoya, go ahead.
Mr. Tafoya: I'm the Singing Sparrow.
Mr. Peterson: No, say your name first.
Mr. Tafoya: I'm Mr. Tafoya, the Singing Sparrow.
Mr. Peterson: No, your animal is supposed to start with the same letter as your last name.
Mr. Tafoya: What's that?
It may have even gone on longer than that. I swear I thought they were going to go into "who's on first."
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