Longing

I miss Japan so badly today that it's a physical pain. I don't know if it's the quality of the light or the fact that it's finally turning to autumn here. I don't know if it's because I'm listening to Agatsuma as I'm trying to get school work done, because I received a new catalog from the Japanese American Museum, or because I chose one of my Japanese pottery bowls from which to eat my cereal this morning.

All I know is that if I only had one wish right now, it would be to be back in Toyohashi watching all those lustrous golden ginkgo leaves showering down on the campus of Aidai. I long to be riding my bike, to be on the trains going somewhere, to be walking with my camera and seeing autumn take the countryside in slow waves of color. I crave chestnut sweets and mochi. I want to stop in a noodle shop and enjoy the flavors before a cool evening ride home.

I miss my friends there and all my wonderful, diamond-bright students. Last night while I was copying grammar exercises, my eyes fell on various knickknacks from Japan in my office: my Nohohon collection, a tiny pair of shishi-mai, my Denko-san dragon and shishi, and most wonderful of all, the card my first class of students gave me. I framed it and hung it in my office to help me remember when I have really bad days that somebody somewhere thinks I'm a good teacher.

I want to be walking down the winding pottery path in Tokoname with my camera in hand. I want to be sitting on my ridiculously small green sofa and hearing the absurdly musical chime of the factory across the street. I want grocery store sushi and an egg salad, tuna salad, potato salad sandwich trio from a C-store. I want to go indulge at the 100 yen store.

Here, there is no sumo, no maneki neko, no matcha, and today I feel the loss like a lash across the shoulders. I am starting to get itchy feet and a dreaming mind again, but I have too many obligations that keep me here. I suppose I will just have to satiate the hunger in some other way, but oh how I long for my simple gaijin life in Toyohashi.

Restoring the Balance

Friday was the stupidest day I've had in a long, long time. There was an altercation with a colleague and a blazing headache. I left school early, and I took no work home with me. I deliberately left it sitting on the desk and went home. It was a mutinous, rebellious action, and I refuse to apologize for it.

This weekend, I read four pulp fiction novels, made several pots of tea, lay on the couch with Dillon purring supportively in my ears, surfed eBay for vintage Vera scarves and chenille peacock bedspreads, chatted online with two dear friends who are far away, sporadically did laundry, watched The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, cooked Sunday dinner for my parents, and generally focused on feeling less like a dead teacher and more like a "real" person again.

I had reached a point where this was absolutely necessary. I am now behind in several things, but I can't bring myself to worry about it. It will all get done. I may have to stick a cot in the back of the classroom next week, but at least I will start the week rested and refreshed. I know the ridiculous crap with the coworker will probably flare back up at least once next week, and at some point, I will tell that story here, but I think I will be able to deal with it.

Another Sisyphus Day

This week has been crazy. There have been fire drills, personal and professional dramas, preparation for unit tests, fights in the halls, screaming crazies elsewhere, departmental work days, and parent conferences, and I'm worn out with it.

Today has been especially long. A perfectly capable student is trying desperately to get out of my class because it's "too hard." I can't tell you how tired one gets of hearing that, of hearing how hard my class is, how much work I assign, how strict I am. I feel like just saying, "Well heck then, let's all twiddle our thumbs and do nothing. Let's all be the same unimproved, unenlightened people we were when we came in. Let's keep our world view and comprehension from expanding one iota."

It's not that student alone or even mostly that's triggered this. There are other issues going on there, and I know AP is hard. It's supposed to be. I do everyone a disservice if it's not. I don't have a problem there. As the lady who ran our AP seminar this summer tells her students, "Hate me now; love me in May."

It's more that I try so hard to do this. I try so hard to make every single day something that will bring some new facet to the jewel of life. I want my students to understand the power and the humanity, the shared lives and the eon-spanning emotion, we approach every time we open our textbooks. So often, I watch them shut down as the covers open. So often, they refuse, by conditioning, I suppose, to give what we're doing a chance. These things have lasted for a reason. They are, at their bedrock, built on experience we all have.

I try very hard not to teach boring stuff. Even if it's grammar, and God knows, grammar isn't my favorite part of being an English teacher with all its rules and strictures, I make every effort to cut through the crap and get to the meat of it in the most meaningful way. I know not everyone is going to love Beowulf or Pride and Prejudice or 1984, but I would hope that I am at least presenting it in a way that makes it appreciable.

I also believe I make a genuine effort to treat all my students with respect. I don't lie to them or talk down to them. I want them to do well and succeed. I want them to discover the unimaginable possibilities of themselves.

It's just a Sisyphus Day, I guess. The frazzlin' rock has rolled over me, and I feel every bruise. I need to go home, eat supper, and watch something mindless or read an old favorite. Barring the possibility of either kendo or fencing where I could release some of this frustration and sadness by destroying a hapless opponent, I think that looks like the best option.

Sunday House Call?

I was working on getting things cleaned up this morning, and my phone rang. It was a BellSouth repairman asking if he could come out today and take care of the repair issue with my kitchen phone jack. I almost fell over. I had no idea they worked on Sundays.

He came out, and in about 45 min., fixed the wiring problem. Apparently, something (probably a large reddish pit bull or her small golden sidekick) had chewed the wires leading into the house. I am so glad that it's fixed! Not having a phone right there was a terrible inconvenience.

Well, there's not really more to tell. I'm still working on school stuff and watching D'Onofrio, so life goes on. It's nice not to have exciting things to tell, sometimes.

Gnashing of Teeth

I have been on the phone with tech support for the past three hours. My wireless router has apparently gone belly up. I am ready to throw it against a wall. The very nice Mid-Asian BellSouth DSL tech guy who patiently walked me through various fixes is probably ready to throw it, too.

I hate it when things that are supposed to work, don't. I have absolutely no patience with malfunctioning inanimate objects.

I still have to call Linksys and deal with whatever sort of tech support they offer, but I don't think I can stand to do it right now. I think I'm going to get a snack and get away from the darn thing for a few minutes first.

Deluge

Today was a long day. Classes were good; we finished up Beowulf today in my regular classes. My kids were mostly engaged. Some of them even like the story. I love it, so that made me happy. I think some of the others liked it, too, but were too "cool" to admit it.

The long part came during 7th period. It's incredibly loud on our hall during seventh period. The noise is disturbing because it always sounds like a fight is about to break out. It makes me very nervous, and I want to either call security or just go scream, "SHUT UP!!!! FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, SHUT UP!!!" The situation is increasingly uncomfortable for me.

From 7th period forward, my room was full of students. I have so many who come in to do work, makeup work, or get help. It's kind of nice. I like that the students are concerned enough to come in. It's such a change from last year and tenth graders.

I tutored after school, and I didn't get a chance to get a snack. That made my blood sugar drop, and when I finally left school at 4:20, I was sick. Fortunately, Dad called, and we ate dinner. It was nice to sit and talk. Now, I'm watching a little TV (yes, the delightful Mr. D'Onofrio is on), and later on, I have big, big plans that involve a long hot shower, my bed, and a book I don't have to read for school. Maybe if I sleep enough tonight, I'll be able to get some energy for the big pep rally tomorrow.

Fulbright?

Today I got a packet of information from one of the mysterious office fairies about Fulbright's Teacher Exchange program. As soon as I read the flyer, I felt my toes curl and that electric zing that the thought of travel, especially long-term travel, brings to me. To spend a year teaching and living in another country AND to be on paid leave from my job here is just too good to be true.

I ran down the list of countries and places, and there were so many places on the list that I want to go. The one that looks most attractive is the six month stint in the UK. I would have a chance to explore WITHOUT a ravening horde of teenagers trailing me. It would be paradise.

There are still lots of questions about the program, and I have to give it some serious thought before I even decide that I'll apply. Once I apply, I know my chances aren't very good to be selected out of the thousands of applicants. I might still decide to throw my hat in the ring. My feet have been itchy lately, and something like this might be a cure for it.

Victory!

Finally, finally, finally, the huge pile of papers has been graded. It took two days, and I think I used up two whole pens, but by George, it's done! Now, I can do the happy dance. This usually involves lots of hollering and scooping up various cats to spin around with. They, of course, find this less than soothing.

I have one teensy-tiny little set of essays from my Juniors left to grade, and I think I can get them done tomorrow during my off period if everybody will let me alone so I can work.

I'm rewarding myself by watching the late episodes of the Bravo marathon since I've been so good about forcing myself to grade all weekend. I have to go to bed soon, but I feel as if a huge rock has been removed from my back. It's a good feeling for as long as it lasts.

Genetics

I went up to have dinner with Mom and Dad tonight, and Mom was in a state of near-exhaustion. She's obligated to do this, that, and the other and then has school stuff on top of it. She, like me, works 14 hour days at school, and still comes home and grades into the night.

I guess I come by it honestly. I suppose I should have known this was the way it was going to be. After all, I've spent my entire life watching her do this. I never knew there was any other way to be a teacher.

There are other ways, though. I know lots of teachers who roll out with or just after the buses. My question is how? Are they doing it all at home? I wish I were that disciplined. Are they just not doing it at all? If that's the case, how do they stay employed or look at themselves in the mirror?

I think I'm just a poor time manager. There's got to be an easier way to get these things done with the same quality. Maybe I'm just genetically cursed to do it the hard way.

STRESS

In the space of two days....

1) my phone in the kitchen died, a repair was scheduled, and the repairman never came because he was calling the defunct phone instead of my cell -- I'm still waiting to hear back from them

2) the class I'm taking for my silly second MA loaded the crap on me with tests and projects out the wazoo

3) the garbage I set out today didn't get picked up because apparently Monday wasn't really a no-garbage holiday

4) my dog chewed up another package, this time containing something I need for school tomorrow and Monday

5) a student told one of my admins that she would like to change classes because she needs a "different teaching style" and now I have to go through a parent conference about it

6) my laundry is overflowing, my house needs to be declared a haz-mat zone, and my yard is stemming out with bahaia

7) Yelldo and Dillon need to go to the vets

By all that is holy, please let tomorrow not be as full of crazy mess as the past two days have been.....

Seed or Husk

Sitting draped in my doctor's office today, I had quite a bit of time to reflect on things. When one is surrounded by the accoutrement of childbearing, it's hard not to think about having babies. For me, it's hard not to worry about whether I ever will have them or not.

Nobody enjoys these visits, I guess. There are few positions as vulnerable; few relationships require the level of trust the relationship between a woman and the doctor who helps her maintain the apparatus of the creation of life does.

When I go, though, there's always another layer underneath the general discomfort: the fear that one day the doctor will come back in and tell me that my body has finally betrayed me to the final extremity and that children are not possible. Every year, I procrastinate about making the appointment. Every year, I sit nervously in his office, trying not to look too closely at the photographs and other artwork of newborns and infants that cluster on the walls. Every year, I endure the exam and pray he won't tell me, with genuine apology on his kind face, that I will never know what it's like to carry life inside me and be a mother.

These visits are stressful to say the least. I'm sure after a few days have passed, I will find some self-deprecatory humor in it, but right now, I'm tired of thinking about it, tired of worrying about it.

Tennis Is Great and All, But....

I've been suffering from D'Onofrio withdrawal. USA has been showing the US Open non-stop for a week now, and I have been missing my Law and Order episodes. Tonight, though, is Bravo's mini marathon, and I am soaking up the lovely man.

I really hate it when a network pre-empts its regular scheduling for extended periods. I guess if I were a sports fan, I'd love it, but since tennis isn't my particular obsession, I resent having to miss one of the very, very few shows I do watch because of it. It's just another facet of my Type-A coming out, probably.

Oh well, I'm off to the kitchen for a really late supper, and since there's no school tomorrow (thank GOD), I'm going to spend the night watching the witty Mr. D'Onofrio and reading until dawn.

The Evil Wench at the C-Store

Look out...I'm getting up on the soapbox, and I'm steaming....

Today, I went into a C-store to get my favorite nectar of the gods, Diet Mountain Dew. All the bottles in the cold case had spatters of something sticky and brown on them. I'm assuming it was probably exploded Pepsi or a similar substance. If not, I really, really don't want to know.

I pulled one and took it to the register. While the gum smacking under-dressed gutter socialite behind the counter was ringing up my drink, I asked her if she perhaps had a wet wipe or a damp paper towel I could use to clean the bottle. She waved her hand in a vague fashion toward their deli, said something largely unintelligible around the wad of gum, and then TURNED HER BACK ON ME.

She didn't turn to answer a question or get something for another customer. She just turned around and rested her vast backside against the very counter upon which my purchase was sitting. I felt my blood pressure soaring. She hadn't helped me get something to clean up THEIR mess, she hadn't even offered to put the things I'd picked up in a bag, and she turned her back to me in dismissal while I was still trying to understand what the heck she was trying to say. People have died for less than that.

If you hate your job that much, go to the house. Please. Your life may be a living nightmare, but that's no reason to take it out on every innocent bystander. Truly, I understand that working at a gas station on a Saturday afternoon probably doesn't rank up there as one of the top ten jobs, but if it's paying your car note and your light bill, don't give me crap when all I am trying to do is buy a soda.

I was very proud of myself. I did not reach across the counter and slap her silly. I thought about it. It was fairly satisfying just thinking about it, in fact. Instead, I found a napkin, got the bottle clean, and left. I managed not to let her rudeness force me into rudeness of my own, so maybe I won a small battle with myself if nothing else.