"I travel not to go anywhere, but to go. I travel for travel's sake. The great affair is to move." ~Robert Louis Stevenson
I'm starting to get itchy feet again. I have been looking at other houses and other cities and wondering if the grass might be green there, too. I don't know why I do that. Maybe I inherited it from my grandmother. She moved about every 5 years. There was something within her that drove her from house to house, state to state.
There's this great old house very close to the school I work at. It's a three story Italianate. It has the tower and everything. Right now, it's almost hidden behind overgrown grounds, but it has a magnolia and azaleas, and with some love could be beyond beautiful. I imagine that the inside has hardwood floors, probably worn and scuffed, and tall ceilings. I imagine that the view from the tower window looks out across the rooftops of the other houses, and that I could probably just see my school from it. I look at the old hammock on the porch and imagine a summer afternoon with a book. I think I'm in love with that house.
Of course, this is house adultery. I also love the house I'm in right now. This is my family legacy and my family home. It sits on seven acres and has more space than I and another couple of families could use. It has a privacy that a town lot, no matter how large, could never give. Every time I walk through, I can feel the love of my grandparents surrounding me. This set of grandparents, my mother's parents, lived in the same house for more than 20 years. From them, I get the desire to nest.
One day, that great old Italianate will go on the market, and I'll have to make a choice. I'll have to either turn in and take a look or grip the wheel and come home. I don't know if the gypsy or the nester will win out in the end.
Tuesday, April 26, 2005
Monday, April 25, 2005
Natchez
"Welcome to Natchez, Mississippi - the oldest civilized settlement on the
Mississippi River!" -- Official Natchez Webpage
I spent Friday in Natchez. Natchez is amazing. I hadn't been there since our 5th grade Mississippi Trip, and all I remembered about it was Longwood.
This time, I got to walk around and appreciate the beauty of the town. I love river towns anyway. They all seem so calmly saturated with history. The downtown was sort of genteelly shabby. It seemed that it was impossible to turn without finding an interesting shop or a wonderful old house.
I also went back to Longwood. It's amazing. I kept thinking, "What would it have been had it been finished?" I could almost picture it in my mind as the docent described the marble that was to go on the floors. Looking up into that unfinished expanse stretching five floors above me, I was in awe of Haller Nutt's dream. He included so many revolutionary design elements. He must have been an amazingly smart man.
I had sort of a weird thing happen there, too. The house is one of those places that feels...I don't know...watchful. It, in the tradition of all old houses in the South, is supposed to be haunted. Supposedly, when the haunting is active, the lights flicker, the chandelier moves, and things move by themselves.
The whole time I was in the first room of the tour, the lights flickered, and the chandelier started to shimmy. Not like a puppet on a string, but enough to notice. The tour guide kept looking at it with a puzzled expression on her face, but she didn't say anything about it until we got into the next room. A candle had fallen from a three candle candelabra, and she laughingly said, "Oh, Dr. Nutt and Julia are playing with things again." She picked it up and shoved it, and I mean twisted it with FORCE, into the holder. She wiggled it with her fingers. It wasn't going anywhere.
It stayed in the holder until we moved into the next room. Then, suddenly, it leapt out of the holder, off the table, and into the middle of the floor. I don't see how it could have gotten off the table by itself. It was strange. Nothing that could be proven, but I don't think I'd want to be there after dark. None of us commented on it, and we moved on to the upstairs part of the tour soon thereafter. I don't know whether I had a brush with Dr. Haller Nutt, but I really enjoyed his house.
I loved Natchez, odd stuff and all. I found a really amazing potter, Connor Burns, whose stuff I will have to have more of. I am just learning about U.S. pottery and I have so much to find out. I also found a potter who works in the Native American style and bought a very nice cat shaped rattle head figure.
In the confines of that one small city, there was pottery, Thai food (thank GOD), good BBQ, shopping, a blues festival, old houses, and everything I love to be around. I think I want to move to Natchez. Maybe then Haller Nutt could throw things at me on a regular basis. :)
Mississippi River!" -- Official Natchez Webpage
I spent Friday in Natchez. Natchez is amazing. I hadn't been there since our 5th grade Mississippi Trip, and all I remembered about it was Longwood.
This time, I got to walk around and appreciate the beauty of the town. I love river towns anyway. They all seem so calmly saturated with history. The downtown was sort of genteelly shabby. It seemed that it was impossible to turn without finding an interesting shop or a wonderful old house.
I also went back to Longwood. It's amazing. I kept thinking, "What would it have been had it been finished?" I could almost picture it in my mind as the docent described the marble that was to go on the floors. Looking up into that unfinished expanse stretching five floors above me, I was in awe of Haller Nutt's dream. He included so many revolutionary design elements. He must have been an amazingly smart man.
I had sort of a weird thing happen there, too. The house is one of those places that feels...I don't know...watchful. It, in the tradition of all old houses in the South, is supposed to be haunted. Supposedly, when the haunting is active, the lights flicker, the chandelier moves, and things move by themselves.
The whole time I was in the first room of the tour, the lights flickered, and the chandelier started to shimmy. Not like a puppet on a string, but enough to notice. The tour guide kept looking at it with a puzzled expression on her face, but she didn't say anything about it until we got into the next room. A candle had fallen from a three candle candelabra, and she laughingly said, "Oh, Dr. Nutt and Julia are playing with things again." She picked it up and shoved it, and I mean twisted it with FORCE, into the holder. She wiggled it with her fingers. It wasn't going anywhere.
It stayed in the holder until we moved into the next room. Then, suddenly, it leapt out of the holder, off the table, and into the middle of the floor. I don't see how it could have gotten off the table by itself. It was strange. Nothing that could be proven, but I don't think I'd want to be there after dark. None of us commented on it, and we moved on to the upstairs part of the tour soon thereafter. I don't know whether I had a brush with Dr. Haller Nutt, but I really enjoyed his house.
I loved Natchez, odd stuff and all. I found a really amazing potter, Connor Burns, whose stuff I will have to have more of. I am just learning about U.S. pottery and I have so much to find out. I also found a potter who works in the Native American style and bought a very nice cat shaped rattle head figure.
In the confines of that one small city, there was pottery, Thai food (thank GOD), good BBQ, shopping, a blues festival, old houses, and everything I love to be around. I think I want to move to Natchez. Maybe then Haller Nutt could throw things at me on a regular basis. :)
A Very Bad Day
"Never argue with a fool. People might not be able to tell the difference." -- Author unknown
Today, this quote saved me from turning into a frothing-at-the-mouth screaming idiot myself. A parent came for a conference that turned into a personal attack.
She sat there and accused me to my face of lying about her daughter and changing the attendance record. Her daughter is failing every single class. Her daughter's attitude is legendary. Yet, I am the villain. I am "picking on her" and apparently, have designed every aspect of my classroom management strategy, including other referrals for other students, with no other purpose than to frame her child.
I am offended to the core of my being. I could feel my blood pressure rise and I wanted to say and do so many things. This quote sprang to mind, and I suddenly just sat there and let her rage. It was clear to everybody what she was. I didn't have to defend myself. Everything is documented. The administration can tell when and if anything was changed in the system. I don't even know how to change stuff in the attendance program once it's entered.
She got so out of control that the administrator ended the conference. The crazy woman grabbed her papers and her child, tore down the hall screaming that her child needed a new class and a new teacher, and peeled rubber out of the parking lot. Everyone heard it. Everyone saw it. I was very proud that I managed not to leap across the table and rip her throat out with my teeth.
I know this isn't over. I know she or her mother is going to create a huge scene at least once more before the end of the year. As long as it doesn't harm my car or me personally, I'll consider it a good ending. I just want her gone. I'm tired of fighting her crap attitude and watching it infect my other students.
Mom brought me a carton of ice cream and I think I'm going to go dive into it. Today was a bad, bad day. Tomorrow, hopefully, will be better. I'll try to update tomorrow.
Today, this quote saved me from turning into a frothing-at-the-mouth screaming idiot myself. A parent came for a conference that turned into a personal attack.
She sat there and accused me to my face of lying about her daughter and changing the attendance record. Her daughter is failing every single class. Her daughter's attitude is legendary. Yet, I am the villain. I am "picking on her" and apparently, have designed every aspect of my classroom management strategy, including other referrals for other students, with no other purpose than to frame her child.
I am offended to the core of my being. I could feel my blood pressure rise and I wanted to say and do so many things. This quote sprang to mind, and I suddenly just sat there and let her rage. It was clear to everybody what she was. I didn't have to defend myself. Everything is documented. The administration can tell when and if anything was changed in the system. I don't even know how to change stuff in the attendance program once it's entered.
She got so out of control that the administrator ended the conference. The crazy woman grabbed her papers and her child, tore down the hall screaming that her child needed a new class and a new teacher, and peeled rubber out of the parking lot. Everyone heard it. Everyone saw it. I was very proud that I managed not to leap across the table and rip her throat out with my teeth.
I know this isn't over. I know she or her mother is going to create a huge scene at least once more before the end of the year. As long as it doesn't harm my car or me personally, I'll consider it a good ending. I just want her gone. I'm tired of fighting her crap attitude and watching it infect my other students.
Mom brought me a carton of ice cream and I think I'm going to go dive into it. Today was a bad, bad day. Tomorrow, hopefully, will be better. I'll try to update tomorrow.
Thursday, April 21, 2005
Tired
"I was too old for a paper route, too young for Social Security and too tired for an affair." -- Erma Bombeck
I am so tired. I would like to sleep for about a week. The combined stress of state testing, regular end-of-the-year insanity, and preparations for this summer trip are about to finish me off. I'm not sleeping much or well. As you can tell by the time of the post, I should be in bed, but I've just finished working on something I've got to have for a weekend meeting, and even though I'm exhausted, I don't think I could sleep.
Whenever I feel like this, I always wonder if I'm supposed to feel like this. Am I so tired because I'm doing the right thing well, or because I'm doing the wrong thing altogether? If I were in full-time ESL, would I be so tired? Is this a physical thing or an emotional one?
I love my kids. Most of them are a real joy. Watching them grow this year like seedlings breaking the surface of the garden soil has been an educational experience for me as well as them. Sometimes, though, it's just overwhelming. Right now, it's overwhelming.
The paperwork is endless. Today, one of my 7th period kids lost her mind and was sent out. All of them are acting nuts, and we still have 4 weeks of school left.
On top of all this, our lovely school board issued its new school calendar for next year. They've added more days to school and we now start back on Aug. 1. Why can't they see that more classroom days aren't the answer?
Anyway, I need to try to lay down and sleep. I have to take a trip tomorrow, and I guess driving and sleeping don't mix well. Maybe at some point I'm going to have 5 minutes for myself.
I am so tired. I would like to sleep for about a week. The combined stress of state testing, regular end-of-the-year insanity, and preparations for this summer trip are about to finish me off. I'm not sleeping much or well. As you can tell by the time of the post, I should be in bed, but I've just finished working on something I've got to have for a weekend meeting, and even though I'm exhausted, I don't think I could sleep.
Whenever I feel like this, I always wonder if I'm supposed to feel like this. Am I so tired because I'm doing the right thing well, or because I'm doing the wrong thing altogether? If I were in full-time ESL, would I be so tired? Is this a physical thing or an emotional one?
I love my kids. Most of them are a real joy. Watching them grow this year like seedlings breaking the surface of the garden soil has been an educational experience for me as well as them. Sometimes, though, it's just overwhelming. Right now, it's overwhelming.
The paperwork is endless. Today, one of my 7th period kids lost her mind and was sent out. All of them are acting nuts, and we still have 4 weeks of school left.
On top of all this, our lovely school board issued its new school calendar for next year. They've added more days to school and we now start back on Aug. 1. Why can't they see that more classroom days aren't the answer?
Anyway, I need to try to lay down and sleep. I have to take a trip tomorrow, and I guess driving and sleeping don't mix well. Maybe at some point I'm going to have 5 minutes for myself.
Monday, April 18, 2005
Who's Out There?
"A single rose can be my garden; a single friend, my world." -- Leo Buscaglia
I often wonder who is reading this little blog. I know my good friend DEG is out there. It's funny. He and I have communicated more through this blog than we have in years. Isn't that crazy?
I think several members of my family are reading it, too. Hello, assorted relatives.
I wonder who else sees it, or if anybody does. I don't necessarily put it out there to be read, but for some reason, when I noticed my counter had somehow broken 200, even though it advances every time I reload after an update, I was surprised.
Tonight's musing is short and largely pointless. If you're out there reading, you might leave me a post and let me know. Just to satisfy my catlike curiosity. ;)
I often wonder who is reading this little blog. I know my good friend DEG is out there. It's funny. He and I have communicated more through this blog than we have in years. Isn't that crazy?
I think several members of my family are reading it, too. Hello, assorted relatives.
I wonder who else sees it, or if anybody does. I don't necessarily put it out there to be read, but for some reason, when I noticed my counter had somehow broken 200, even though it advances every time I reload after an update, I was surprised.
Tonight's musing is short and largely pointless. If you're out there reading, you might leave me a post and let me know. Just to satisfy my catlike curiosity. ;)
Saturday, April 16, 2005
I Won!
"To be a poet is a condition, not a profession." -- Robert Frost
When my dad and I went down to run and fold our church's bulletin today, he asked me if I'd checked my mail today. That may sound odd, but sometimes I go a couple of days without doing that. Nothing very important ever comes to me except bills. Who needs them on top of a long day?
As we were coming back, he stopped and picked up what was in the box. In the pile was a letter from the people who sponsored the literary contest I entered awhile back (see previous postings). I won first place! I was so happy.
It turns out my mother already knew. A former teacher of mine and colleague of hers was the judge for the competition. The entries were all anonymous, but when she found out who wrote the poem she'd chosen, she called my mom and told her. Mom had been keeping the secret for about a week.
It's an extra layer of happiness to me that this former teacher was the judge. It's actually the second time she's chosen me for a poetry contest, but I bet she doesn't remember the first one. I wrote for and won a "Roses are Red" variation contest in 9th grade. It was my first competition win.
I will go to an awards presentation in a couple of weeks to receive the prize. I had hoped I'd win with one of the three poems I entered, but I'm not sure if I believed it would really happen. It's so encouraging. I'm glad I entered because I started not to do so. I haven't had anyone who could help me refine my work since my undergraduate days, and I was hesitant to put anything out there without some polishing.
I wish I had somebody to help me refine my stuff. My college creative writing professor was so amazing for that. He never pulled punches, and as a result of his classes, I made so much progress as a writer. One of the pieces I wrote for him took first prize at a competition I entered during college.
I've often thought of writing to him with newer stuff, but that's such an imposition and presumption. He is a producing poet himself and has new classes every year to help. I would feel strange about asking him to help me, random student from years ago.
This was a much-needed encouragement. It renews my desire to write again. Not for the prizes. Not for any kind of victory. Rather, because, as the quote at the beginning says, the poetry is a part of who I am, and it's a part I've been keeping locked away since Japan. It's time to open the doors and see what happens.
When my dad and I went down to run and fold our church's bulletin today, he asked me if I'd checked my mail today. That may sound odd, but sometimes I go a couple of days without doing that. Nothing very important ever comes to me except bills. Who needs them on top of a long day?
As we were coming back, he stopped and picked up what was in the box. In the pile was a letter from the people who sponsored the literary contest I entered awhile back (see previous postings). I won first place! I was so happy.
It turns out my mother already knew. A former teacher of mine and colleague of hers was the judge for the competition. The entries were all anonymous, but when she found out who wrote the poem she'd chosen, she called my mom and told her. Mom had been keeping the secret for about a week.
It's an extra layer of happiness to me that this former teacher was the judge. It's actually the second time she's chosen me for a poetry contest, but I bet she doesn't remember the first one. I wrote for and won a "Roses are Red" variation contest in 9th grade. It was my first competition win.
I will go to an awards presentation in a couple of weeks to receive the prize. I had hoped I'd win with one of the three poems I entered, but I'm not sure if I believed it would really happen. It's so encouraging. I'm glad I entered because I started not to do so. I haven't had anyone who could help me refine my work since my undergraduate days, and I was hesitant to put anything out there without some polishing.
I wish I had somebody to help me refine my stuff. My college creative writing professor was so amazing for that. He never pulled punches, and as a result of his classes, I made so much progress as a writer. One of the pieces I wrote for him took first prize at a competition I entered during college.
I've often thought of writing to him with newer stuff, but that's such an imposition and presumption. He is a producing poet himself and has new classes every year to help. I would feel strange about asking him to help me, random student from years ago.
This was a much-needed encouragement. It renews my desire to write again. Not for the prizes. Not for any kind of victory. Rather, because, as the quote at the beginning says, the poetry is a part of who I am, and it's a part I've been keeping locked away since Japan. It's time to open the doors and see what happens.
Tuesday, April 12, 2005
Ask and Ye Shall Receive....
"Every moment of your life is infinitely creative and the universe is endlessly bountiful. Just put forth a clear enough request, and everything your heart desires must come to you." -- Mohandas Gandhi
Today was so weird. It was a constant tidal flow of the good and the stupid.
I started the day with the discovery that some of my students had swiped about 7 of the meager number of copies we have of TKaM. Of course, in my extremely literary mind, this action is rife with irony. Not that I don't appreciate the literary merits of the situation, but it pissed me off to the N-th degree. We have nothing. They know we have nothing. They steal bits of the nothing we have.
Anyway, after a diatribe and lots of guilt (I learned it at my grandmother's knee, and NOBODY was better than she), I retrieved most of the books. I anticipate the others trickling in tomorrow.
After dealing with that crap, I got some really good news. After the PowerPoint presentations mentioned in the last post, I decided to look around and see if I couldn't find some way of getting one for the classroom. I looked up manufacturers of LCD projectors, located a rep for Mitsubishi Electronics, and wrote him a letter. Yesterday, I talked to another rep for a company that does demos for them. Today, I got confirmation. They are making us a great deal on a used demonstrator. I felt like I was walking on air!
I didn't really expect anything to come of my requests. I was so happy! Now I can do PowerPoints for other things. I have so many ideas already. I plan to incorporate pictures from this summer's trip to England into a PP about Shakespeare.
The day swung back down with some of my later classes. Other stuff also happened. In my infinite dumbness, I put the wrong shipping address on a package I ordered. I was pretty low when school ended.
Then the up-wave came again. It's not a big event, but it was nice. A prescription that I need was accepted by my insurance, so it no longer costs me a million dollars a month. I also found out that I don't owe the government anything this year on taxes. Two big pluses for me. Tonight when I got home, the company I ordered the materials from wrote me back to say they'd gotten the package as a return and were sending it to the corrected address. I didn't lose my money/stuff after all.
Even though today was a day of gains, I hope tomorrow is a little more even keel. I need some peace. The weekend was almost non-existent, and this week is taking its toll. Whenever I get too tired, every little thing affects me more than normal. This weekend, I'm going to try to SLEEP!!!
Today was so weird. It was a constant tidal flow of the good and the stupid.
I started the day with the discovery that some of my students had swiped about 7 of the meager number of copies we have of TKaM. Of course, in my extremely literary mind, this action is rife with irony. Not that I don't appreciate the literary merits of the situation, but it pissed me off to the N-th degree. We have nothing. They know we have nothing. They steal bits of the nothing we have.
Anyway, after a diatribe and lots of guilt (I learned it at my grandmother's knee, and NOBODY was better than she), I retrieved most of the books. I anticipate the others trickling in tomorrow.
After dealing with that crap, I got some really good news. After the PowerPoint presentations mentioned in the last post, I decided to look around and see if I couldn't find some way of getting one for the classroom. I looked up manufacturers of LCD projectors, located a rep for Mitsubishi Electronics, and wrote him a letter. Yesterday, I talked to another rep for a company that does demos for them. Today, I got confirmation. They are making us a great deal on a used demonstrator. I felt like I was walking on air!
I didn't really expect anything to come of my requests. I was so happy! Now I can do PowerPoints for other things. I have so many ideas already. I plan to incorporate pictures from this summer's trip to England into a PP about Shakespeare.
The day swung back down with some of my later classes. Other stuff also happened. In my infinite dumbness, I put the wrong shipping address on a package I ordered. I was pretty low when school ended.
Then the up-wave came again. It's not a big event, but it was nice. A prescription that I need was accepted by my insurance, so it no longer costs me a million dollars a month. I also found out that I don't owe the government anything this year on taxes. Two big pluses for me. Tonight when I got home, the company I ordered the materials from wrote me back to say they'd gotten the package as a return and were sending it to the corrected address. I didn't lose my money/stuff after all.
Even though today was a day of gains, I hope tomorrow is a little more even keel. I need some peace. The weekend was almost non-existent, and this week is taking its toll. Whenever I get too tired, every little thing affects me more than normal. This weekend, I'm going to try to SLEEP!!!
Friday, April 08, 2005
A Taste of the Good Stuff
"Education's purpose is to replace an empty mind with an open one." -- Malcolm S. Forbes
I had the best day today. It started out stressful as I was trying to hook my laptop to my class TV for PowerPoint presentations. As usual in such situations, my laptop was uncooperative, and I was scrambling to fill the gaps with something while I worked. I finally borrowed the office's super projector thing, used the school's laptop (yes, we only have the one...we're a poor school), and got the presentation running. The kids were so into the presentations.
I gave a PP on the Civil Rights Movement and on the Jim Crow laws of the 30's to help them understand Mockingbird better. I had prepared the PPs for teaching Mockingbird in Japan, but the same material worked with my 10th graders.
I couldn't get over how involved they became. They were asking questions and all of them were awake and interested. For those of you unfamiliar with the world of modern secondary education, that in and of itself is a minor miracle. I encouraged them as much as possible to go home and talk to the people living in their own houses and communities who had lived through these events, and I saw some of them who probably never considered those people as anything except for "old" look consideringly.
After the PPs, they broke up into Reading Circle discussion groups where every person has a different facet of the material to present. I was unsure of how well they'd do or if they'd do the work involved, but all but 6 all day long did it, and by some miracle, even if it was only the miracle of the new, they enjoyed it. I felt almost reborn. It was almost like teaching in the college ESL programs in Indiana or Japan.
They left talking about the materials they'd seen. They left curious to read more. I have students who came to me with no interest in reading who are eagerly plowing their way through this book, and I'm so proud of them I could cry. It's not anything that I'm doing, but it's what they're discovering they're capable of themselves. It's what they are finally looking around and seeing in the world other than the trivialities of teenhood. I am so happy for them!
At the same time, I feel kind of like an anxious gardener with a tender new planting before me. I am worried that it won't take. I am worried that some harsh weather will come to shrivel it before its roots grow deep enough to support and nourish. I know not all of them will care, but to have some of them so interested is like a gift from God. Maybe I can make a small difference somehow.
I had the best day today. It started out stressful as I was trying to hook my laptop to my class TV for PowerPoint presentations. As usual in such situations, my laptop was uncooperative, and I was scrambling to fill the gaps with something while I worked. I finally borrowed the office's super projector thing, used the school's laptop (yes, we only have the one...we're a poor school), and got the presentation running. The kids were so into the presentations.
I gave a PP on the Civil Rights Movement and on the Jim Crow laws of the 30's to help them understand Mockingbird better. I had prepared the PPs for teaching Mockingbird in Japan, but the same material worked with my 10th graders.
I couldn't get over how involved they became. They were asking questions and all of them were awake and interested. For those of you unfamiliar with the world of modern secondary education, that in and of itself is a minor miracle. I encouraged them as much as possible to go home and talk to the people living in their own houses and communities who had lived through these events, and I saw some of them who probably never considered those people as anything except for "old" look consideringly.
After the PPs, they broke up into Reading Circle discussion groups where every person has a different facet of the material to present. I was unsure of how well they'd do or if they'd do the work involved, but all but 6 all day long did it, and by some miracle, even if it was only the miracle of the new, they enjoyed it. I felt almost reborn. It was almost like teaching in the college ESL programs in Indiana or Japan.
They left talking about the materials they'd seen. They left curious to read more. I have students who came to me with no interest in reading who are eagerly plowing their way through this book, and I'm so proud of them I could cry. It's not anything that I'm doing, but it's what they're discovering they're capable of themselves. It's what they are finally looking around and seeing in the world other than the trivialities of teenhood. I am so happy for them!
At the same time, I feel kind of like an anxious gardener with a tender new planting before me. I am worried that it won't take. I am worried that some harsh weather will come to shrivel it before its roots grow deep enough to support and nourish. I know not all of them will care, but to have some of them so interested is like a gift from God. Maybe I can make a small difference somehow.
Wednesday, April 06, 2005
Clowns and other scary things
"People don't buy from clowns." -- Claude C. Hopkins
I guess Ronald McDonald would be considered the ultimate refutation of this....
Is anyone else afraid of the clownish thing Burger King is using in their ads now? If you haven't seen it, you can see a pic and a short clip here. The King is beyond wacky. He's the kind of thing that shows up in nightmares. He moves far too fast and with a stealth that's not conducive to calm affection. Only nasty things scurry like that...cockroaches, rats, psychopaths in movies...
I particulary hate the one where the guy looks out his window and sees a far away speck. He turns to say something to his wife or look at something, and when he turns back, that big old freaky plastic head is filling up his window offering him a heart attack for breakfast. They both laugh and the sun shines blissfully on a "happy morning."
I can tell you right now that I wouldn't be laughing if that thing showed up outside my window. I'd be grabbing either my kendo shinai or a baseball bat. One of my friends (who will probably read this eventually) was reenacting the commercial as it might go if it happened here in the Deep South. I kind of like this version better.
Scene opens: Freaky guy is a dot on the horizon.
Guy appears. Looks out window. Stretches and turns away momentarily.
Freaky Burger King Thing is suddenly filling up the whole window. Regular guy turns.
Sound of shell being chambered in a shotgun. Boom. End of Freaky Burger King Thing menace.
Another friend of mine observed that part of what makes the thing so scary is that he has normal human hands. I think that may well be part of it. For me, it's the stop motion movement and that big old smiling shiny plastic head. It reminds me of the freaky rabbit in Donnie Darko, which if you haven't seen, you should really check out. I also think that next Halloween's best selling costume could well be the Burger King if they'll put it into production.
Probably, the worst part of it is the same thing I (and probably lots of other people) dislike about clowns. There is no movement in the face. It is impossible to get any readings or any of those subtle body language cues we rely on for communication. I believe this is the reasons clowns rank so high on phobia lists (there's a term for fear of clowns... coulrophobia) and on lists of things people just generally find disturbing. When the face is hidden, so too are the motivations and the clues we need to figure out whether something is amusing or a threat.
For me, creepy Burger dude is a mix. I suppose as long as he stays on his side of the TV, everything is okay. God help him if I ever look out my windows and see that huge plastic head outside offering me any form of BK breakfast though.
I guess Ronald McDonald would be considered the ultimate refutation of this....
Is anyone else afraid of the clownish thing Burger King is using in their ads now? If you haven't seen it, you can see a pic and a short clip here. The King is beyond wacky. He's the kind of thing that shows up in nightmares. He moves far too fast and with a stealth that's not conducive to calm affection. Only nasty things scurry like that...cockroaches, rats, psychopaths in movies...
I particulary hate the one where the guy looks out his window and sees a far away speck. He turns to say something to his wife or look at something, and when he turns back, that big old freaky plastic head is filling up his window offering him a heart attack for breakfast. They both laugh and the sun shines blissfully on a "happy morning."
I can tell you right now that I wouldn't be laughing if that thing showed up outside my window. I'd be grabbing either my kendo shinai or a baseball bat. One of my friends (who will probably read this eventually) was reenacting the commercial as it might go if it happened here in the Deep South. I kind of like this version better.
Scene opens: Freaky guy is a dot on the horizon.
Guy appears. Looks out window. Stretches and turns away momentarily.
Freaky Burger King Thing is suddenly filling up the whole window. Regular guy turns.
Sound of shell being chambered in a shotgun. Boom. End of Freaky Burger King Thing menace.
Another friend of mine observed that part of what makes the thing so scary is that he has normal human hands. I think that may well be part of it. For me, it's the stop motion movement and that big old smiling shiny plastic head. It reminds me of the freaky rabbit in Donnie Darko, which if you haven't seen, you should really check out. I also think that next Halloween's best selling costume could well be the Burger King if they'll put it into production.
Probably, the worst part of it is the same thing I (and probably lots of other people) dislike about clowns. There is no movement in the face. It is impossible to get any readings or any of those subtle body language cues we rely on for communication. I believe this is the reasons clowns rank so high on phobia lists (there's a term for fear of clowns... coulrophobia) and on lists of things people just generally find disturbing. When the face is hidden, so too are the motivations and the clues we need to figure out whether something is amusing or a threat.
For me, creepy Burger dude is a mix. I suppose as long as he stays on his side of the TV, everything is okay. God help him if I ever look out my windows and see that huge plastic head outside offering me any form of BK breakfast though.
Tuesday, April 05, 2005
update
Short tonight, and no quote. Things are rocking along pretty well. Good Mockingbird discussion..more about it tomorrow. I'm, as a colleague says, "beat to my knees."
Friday, April 01, 2005
Why tea kettles Whistle
"Patience: A minor form of despair disguised as a virtue." -- Ambrose Bierce
Actually, I value patience very highly. It's a very important part of my job. I pray for more all the time. Patience and wisdom are hard-won, though. Today and yesterday have been trying my patience in the extreme. I've figured out that it's not the heat under the kettle that causes the scream. It's the inability to vent in any other way.
Not the kids, first of all. They've not been worse than is normal. It's been a week of administrative mandates that have completely wrecked my lesson plans. We had to give a practice test for the big state test coming up later in the month. It's the 3rd time around on this, and even the slowest of my kids were saying, "We are doing this AGAIN?!?!" I explained that its purpose is to show how they've grown over the year and to point out any particular skills for practice before the real thing, but none of us could scrape up much enthusiasm for it.
We got word that the change had to be made on Wednesday. No kidding. Less than 24 hrs. notice. My Type-A personality took the change with all the grace of a freight train suddenly derailed. I HATE it when somebody changes set plans at the last minute. If it's a casual thing, it doesn't matter, but when I put as much work into planning and pacing my lesson plans, it's a big slap in the face to have them so carelessly swept aside.
So, teakettle-like, I've sat in my room, mostly at my desk, for the past two days. I have filed piles of papers, graded and recorded others, set up my computerized gradebook and started working on entering grades for it, and even hung some posters that had fallen long ago and been shoved into a corner. Things are spic-and-span (where did that phrase come from, anyway?) and ready for parent-teacher day on Monday. I hated it. Every minute of it. I felt useless. I wasn't helping them learn. All I was doing was babysitting and cleaning. I could feel the steam building, and by 7th period today, I wanted to shriek with it.
This isn't what we're supposed to be doing. We're supposed to be talking about To Kill a Mockingbird. They're supposed to be discovering how wonderful it is on their own. Instead, we killed two days. I can't remember the quote, but it says something like, "As if we could kill time without injuring eternity." Today, I think we gave it a nasty bruise, at the very least.
One of the things I'm going to have to learn is more flexibility, especially with the stupid trivialities that are so much a part of public education. I will just have to find a way to let it roll off my back. One of my friends was having a problem of patience and tolerance with a family member, and she developed the habit of saying, "Quack, quack" to remind herself to do that. I think I'm going to print that off the computer and put it somewhere on my desk. I need to be more duck and less teakettle.
Actually, I value patience very highly. It's a very important part of my job. I pray for more all the time. Patience and wisdom are hard-won, though. Today and yesterday have been trying my patience in the extreme. I've figured out that it's not the heat under the kettle that causes the scream. It's the inability to vent in any other way.
Not the kids, first of all. They've not been worse than is normal. It's been a week of administrative mandates that have completely wrecked my lesson plans. We had to give a practice test for the big state test coming up later in the month. It's the 3rd time around on this, and even the slowest of my kids were saying, "We are doing this AGAIN?!?!" I explained that its purpose is to show how they've grown over the year and to point out any particular skills for practice before the real thing, but none of us could scrape up much enthusiasm for it.
We got word that the change had to be made on Wednesday. No kidding. Less than 24 hrs. notice. My Type-A personality took the change with all the grace of a freight train suddenly derailed. I HATE it when somebody changes set plans at the last minute. If it's a casual thing, it doesn't matter, but when I put as much work into planning and pacing my lesson plans, it's a big slap in the face to have them so carelessly swept aside.
So, teakettle-like, I've sat in my room, mostly at my desk, for the past two days. I have filed piles of papers, graded and recorded others, set up my computerized gradebook and started working on entering grades for it, and even hung some posters that had fallen long ago and been shoved into a corner. Things are spic-and-span (where did that phrase come from, anyway?) and ready for parent-teacher day on Monday. I hated it. Every minute of it. I felt useless. I wasn't helping them learn. All I was doing was babysitting and cleaning. I could feel the steam building, and by 7th period today, I wanted to shriek with it.
This isn't what we're supposed to be doing. We're supposed to be talking about To Kill a Mockingbird. They're supposed to be discovering how wonderful it is on their own. Instead, we killed two days. I can't remember the quote, but it says something like, "As if we could kill time without injuring eternity." Today, I think we gave it a nasty bruise, at the very least.
One of the things I'm going to have to learn is more flexibility, especially with the stupid trivialities that are so much a part of public education. I will just have to find a way to let it roll off my back. One of my friends was having a problem of patience and tolerance with a family member, and she developed the habit of saying, "Quack, quack" to remind herself to do that. I think I'm going to print that off the computer and put it somewhere on my desk. I need to be more duck and less teakettle.
Tuesday, March 29, 2005
Reverse Psychology -- The Ultimate Educational Tool
"The teacher who is indeed wise does not bid you to enter the house of his wisdom but rather leads you to the threshold of your mind." -- Kahlil Gibran
I want to be this kind of teacher. I want my students to engage that mostly inactive lump of gray matter between their ears and figure out what they think about this world they live in. I'm afraid that if they don't, they will be herded like sheep for the rest of their lives: safe and warm in the pack, comfortably running in the general direction of the others until they are cut out of the flock by predators or until the entire flock plunges over the edge of the ravine.
Today, I started talking to my kids about banned books in preparation for teaching To Kill a Mockingbird (TKaM). TKaM is one of my all-time favorite books. The messages in it are so powerful and so relevant for any person who has ever walked this planet. It's not bound by time, race, gender, nationality, language, or culture. More than almost any other book I've read, it's a universal. We feel the struggles of the characters within ourselves because we have walked those paths ourselves.
I want my kids to engage this novel actively. I was really encouraged by how impassioned some of them became when we were talking about banning books. Most of them had no idea what sorts of books might become banned or why someone might want to ban a book. I forget how young they are. We listed several famous examples, Harry Potter, The Catcher in the Rye, Huckleberry Finn, and talked about what sorts of complaints groups have had about them over the years.
Then I told them TKaM is in that same list of commonly banned and challenged books. I knew they'd perk up for that. Controversy draws a teenager more quickly than roadkill draws buzzards (how's that for a gruesome, but apt, metaphor). We talked about why TKaM is on the list, and we'll finish that discussion up on Thursday. I'm interested to see if we can have a semi-involved conversation on the topic. I so want them to think! If I can get even a few of them to start thinking instead of just passively receiving or floating through life, maybe I'll have done something worthwhile this year.
I want to be this kind of teacher. I want my students to engage that mostly inactive lump of gray matter between their ears and figure out what they think about this world they live in. I'm afraid that if they don't, they will be herded like sheep for the rest of their lives: safe and warm in the pack, comfortably running in the general direction of the others until they are cut out of the flock by predators or until the entire flock plunges over the edge of the ravine.
Today, I started talking to my kids about banned books in preparation for teaching To Kill a Mockingbird (TKaM). TKaM is one of my all-time favorite books. The messages in it are so powerful and so relevant for any person who has ever walked this planet. It's not bound by time, race, gender, nationality, language, or culture. More than almost any other book I've read, it's a universal. We feel the struggles of the characters within ourselves because we have walked those paths ourselves.
I want my kids to engage this novel actively. I was really encouraged by how impassioned some of them became when we were talking about banning books. Most of them had no idea what sorts of books might become banned or why someone might want to ban a book. I forget how young they are. We listed several famous examples, Harry Potter, The Catcher in the Rye, Huckleberry Finn, and talked about what sorts of complaints groups have had about them over the years.
Then I told them TKaM is in that same list of commonly banned and challenged books. I knew they'd perk up for that. Controversy draws a teenager more quickly than roadkill draws buzzards (how's that for a gruesome, but apt, metaphor). We talked about why TKaM is on the list, and we'll finish that discussion up on Thursday. I'm interested to see if we can have a semi-involved conversation on the topic. I so want them to think! If I can get even a few of them to start thinking instead of just passively receiving or floating through life, maybe I'll have done something worthwhile this year.
Sunday, March 27, 2005
Sock monkeys
Try as I might, I just cannot find a quote applicable to tonight's topic. I guess there's not a quote for everything, after all. That's okay. Tonight's post is short.
If you ever owned or liked the classic childhood toy, the sock monkey, check out this website. Make sure you go to the message board. I get a kick out of it. It makes me want to dig out my sewing supplies and make an army of them. Take a trip back to childhood (or sideways if you've never grown out of it) to the Red Heel Sock Monkey Shelter.
If you ever owned or liked the classic childhood toy, the sock monkey, check out this website. Make sure you go to the message board. I get a kick out of it. It makes me want to dig out my sewing supplies and make an army of them. Take a trip back to childhood (or sideways if you've never grown out of it) to the Red Heel Sock Monkey Shelter.
Saturday, March 26, 2005
Storms
"The best thing one can do when it's raining is to let it rain." -- H.W. Longfellow
"Weather forecast for tonight: dark." -- George Carlin
Tonight strong storms are sweeping through our area. I'm compulsively listening to a local radio station waiting for...I don't know. Maybe for doom to fall upon me out of the sky. I don't fully understand why I become transfixed by the weather reports when bad weather comes in. It's almost a snake/mongoose thing. I know it's getting late and church tomorrow will be early. I know that my listening to the reports doesn't change what's happening outside. It doesn't even really give that all-important illusion of control we humans cherish so dearly.
I keep telling myself that I will get up, take a shower, and go to bed, but every time I reach for the remote to cut the stereo down, the ever-vigilant djs cut in with another report. I start tracking with them on my mental map of the area. I wonder if This Person who lives in This Area is okay, and suddenly, there's a tornado in That Area where That Person lives. Suddenly, it seems like I know people everywhere, and all of them are beset by Nature.
If it weren't for the tornados, I wouldn't mind the rain. I've always rather enjoyed thunderstorms. I remember watching them every summer at the camp our church went to on the coast. There are few things as impressive as a summer thunderstorm coming in off the Gulf. A shimmering gray wall of water slid across the silt-tinged waves. Silver threads of lightening traced messages that disappeared too fast to for my mortal eyes to read them. The wind, always a presence there, bent the palms like dancers performing a dangerous tango. Standing on the balconies and landings of the camp complex, I always felt as though I could fly into it and be dissolved into the magic of it.
Even though I'm nowhere near the coast now, I still enjoy thunderstorms. Now, instead of palms, pines dance, taller, less frantic. Half of my old house (see a previous post for more about this) has a metal roof, and the sound of rain on the roof is incredibly comforting.
While I was in Japan, I missed the rumble of summer thunderstorms. Their summer storms are typhoons. Typhoons are another kind of magic altogether, and not a terribly enjoyable type. Add this to the fact that they usually took several days to move through us, and all my groceries had to be transported by bike with me in semi-effective raingear, and you can understand my lack of enthusiasm. I was very fortunate that we never had a big one come in directly on top of us while I was there. They always steered enough north that we didn't catch the most damaging portions.
Although I don't mind the thunderstorms, I do mind even a tiny whiff of tornado. Suddenly, weather that had been highly conducive to reading and snuggling down into quilts with cats becomes a bleary-eyed radio vigil. The fact that they are horrifyingly unpredictable, destructive, and sudden aside, the primary cause of my tornado worries can be traced to two sources.
The first is a story my mom told me. When I was little, we lived in a trailer. Not a mobile home. Not a triple-wide with porch and spa tub. A trailer. One night the weather was particularly bad and Mom went out to listen for the freight-train rumble of an impending tornado. We're always told to listen for that in this part of the country. The tornado tiptoed up to the house closest to ours (my parents lived and continue to live out in the woods on about 40 acres of their own), ripped it up, and bounced over us without making a sound. A car horn from their house would have been heard, but not the total destruction of a house by a tornado. So much for an auditory warning.
The second is something I saw with my own eyes. There is a research station within driving distance where I live, and we'd have to pass it to go visit my grandparents when I was a child. As this research station, they had a huge equipment barn made from metal. Unfortunately, this station also sits in what we call a "tornado alley", meaning, for those of you unfamiliar with the joys of these storms, a place to which tornados seem to be drawn for some unfathomable reason. I can remember at least two separate times when a tornado came through the "alley" in which the station sits and blew the barn into pieces. For miles around, the tall pines had streamers of silvery metal woven through their branches, tied around their trunks like misshapen bows, and littering the ground beneath them. (BTW, every time the barn got/gets destroyed, they put it right back up again. Maybe they think the tornados will get tired of it eventually. I personally think I'd at least try to move it elsewhere on the property or SOMETHING.)
Every area has some sort of natural disaster they have to deal with. The area of Japan in which I lived was awaiting a massive earthquake/tidal wave. I'll never forget watching the far-too cheery NHK news girl gesture to a cardboard model of Nagoya and showing how far inland the wave was going to sweep. I can't tell you how comforted I was about *that* when I found out. Some areas have mudslides, volcanoes, or floods. A friend of mine from Brazil always told a joke concerning the lack of these types of natural disasters in Brazil. Apparently, according to the joke, the government more than makes up for it. It was a very clever joke, I thought. I guess we all just make the best of it we can no matter where we are. After all, what other choice is there?
It's time to take the remote by the horns (mixing metaphors along the way), and get some rest. There's nothing I can do about it anyway.
"Weather forecast for tonight: dark." -- George Carlin
Tonight strong storms are sweeping through our area. I'm compulsively listening to a local radio station waiting for...I don't know. Maybe for doom to fall upon me out of the sky. I don't fully understand why I become transfixed by the weather reports when bad weather comes in. It's almost a snake/mongoose thing. I know it's getting late and church tomorrow will be early. I know that my listening to the reports doesn't change what's happening outside. It doesn't even really give that all-important illusion of control we humans cherish so dearly.
I keep telling myself that I will get up, take a shower, and go to bed, but every time I reach for the remote to cut the stereo down, the ever-vigilant djs cut in with another report. I start tracking with them on my mental map of the area. I wonder if This Person who lives in This Area is okay, and suddenly, there's a tornado in That Area where That Person lives. Suddenly, it seems like I know people everywhere, and all of them are beset by Nature.
If it weren't for the tornados, I wouldn't mind the rain. I've always rather enjoyed thunderstorms. I remember watching them every summer at the camp our church went to on the coast. There are few things as impressive as a summer thunderstorm coming in off the Gulf. A shimmering gray wall of water slid across the silt-tinged waves. Silver threads of lightening traced messages that disappeared too fast to for my mortal eyes to read them. The wind, always a presence there, bent the palms like dancers performing a dangerous tango. Standing on the balconies and landings of the camp complex, I always felt as though I could fly into it and be dissolved into the magic of it.
Even though I'm nowhere near the coast now, I still enjoy thunderstorms. Now, instead of palms, pines dance, taller, less frantic. Half of my old house (see a previous post for more about this) has a metal roof, and the sound of rain on the roof is incredibly comforting.
While I was in Japan, I missed the rumble of summer thunderstorms. Their summer storms are typhoons. Typhoons are another kind of magic altogether, and not a terribly enjoyable type. Add this to the fact that they usually took several days to move through us, and all my groceries had to be transported by bike with me in semi-effective raingear, and you can understand my lack of enthusiasm. I was very fortunate that we never had a big one come in directly on top of us while I was there. They always steered enough north that we didn't catch the most damaging portions.
Although I don't mind the thunderstorms, I do mind even a tiny whiff of tornado. Suddenly, weather that had been highly conducive to reading and snuggling down into quilts with cats becomes a bleary-eyed radio vigil. The fact that they are horrifyingly unpredictable, destructive, and sudden aside, the primary cause of my tornado worries can be traced to two sources.
The first is a story my mom told me. When I was little, we lived in a trailer. Not a mobile home. Not a triple-wide with porch and spa tub. A trailer. One night the weather was particularly bad and Mom went out to listen for the freight-train rumble of an impending tornado. We're always told to listen for that in this part of the country. The tornado tiptoed up to the house closest to ours (my parents lived and continue to live out in the woods on about 40 acres of their own), ripped it up, and bounced over us without making a sound. A car horn from their house would have been heard, but not the total destruction of a house by a tornado. So much for an auditory warning.
The second is something I saw with my own eyes. There is a research station within driving distance where I live, and we'd have to pass it to go visit my grandparents when I was a child. As this research station, they had a huge equipment barn made from metal. Unfortunately, this station also sits in what we call a "tornado alley", meaning, for those of you unfamiliar with the joys of these storms, a place to which tornados seem to be drawn for some unfathomable reason. I can remember at least two separate times when a tornado came through the "alley" in which the station sits and blew the barn into pieces. For miles around, the tall pines had streamers of silvery metal woven through their branches, tied around their trunks like misshapen bows, and littering the ground beneath them. (BTW, every time the barn got/gets destroyed, they put it right back up again. Maybe they think the tornados will get tired of it eventually. I personally think I'd at least try to move it elsewhere on the property or SOMETHING.)
Every area has some sort of natural disaster they have to deal with. The area of Japan in which I lived was awaiting a massive earthquake/tidal wave. I'll never forget watching the far-too cheery NHK news girl gesture to a cardboard model of Nagoya and showing how far inland the wave was going to sweep. I can't tell you how comforted I was about *that* when I found out. Some areas have mudslides, volcanoes, or floods. A friend of mine from Brazil always told a joke concerning the lack of these types of natural disasters in Brazil. Apparently, according to the joke, the government more than makes up for it. It was a very clever joke, I thought. I guess we all just make the best of it we can no matter where we are. After all, what other choice is there?
It's time to take the remote by the horns (mixing metaphors along the way), and get some rest. There's nothing I can do about it anyway.
Friday, March 25, 2005
Things I Want to Learn
"I am learning all the time. My tombstone will be my diploma." -- Eartha Kitt
There are so many things I want to learn to do. I thought I'd record a few of them for the amusement of the thronging thousands (or tens) who read me.
1. Throw pottery on a wheel -- I have some practice with molded pieces from working for a decorative ceramics studio. What I want now is to throw pots, especially bowls and pitchers. I tried to learn some in Japan, but the language barrier was too great.
2. Weld better -- I finally got to take a welding class, but I need more practice. A MIG welder and a plasma cutter couldn't hurt, either.
3. Play Mah Jong -- The pieces fascinate me. I have ordered a book and found a few people around here who know how to play, so this one may get checked off my list soon.
4. Play the banjo -- There's something about the sound that I love. Ever since a friend of mine introduced me to Bela Fleck, I've wanted to learn how to play the banjo.
5. Make Green Tea bread -- This one sounds odd, but there was a coffee shop in Toyohashi that made green tea bread and it was some of the best stuff I've ever tasted. I wish I had the recipe.
6. Crochet correctly -- I need more practice and somebody to watch for this.
7. Control my foil better -- Fencing. How I miss it. How much more terrible I probably am now since there is no fencing in this area.
Short entry tonight. Nothing deep or meaningful. The full moon prohibits solemnity.
There are so many things I want to learn to do. I thought I'd record a few of them for the amusement of the thronging thousands (or tens) who read me.
1. Throw pottery on a wheel -- I have some practice with molded pieces from working for a decorative ceramics studio. What I want now is to throw pots, especially bowls and pitchers. I tried to learn some in Japan, but the language barrier was too great.
2. Weld better -- I finally got to take a welding class, but I need more practice. A MIG welder and a plasma cutter couldn't hurt, either.
3. Play Mah Jong -- The pieces fascinate me. I have ordered a book and found a few people around here who know how to play, so this one may get checked off my list soon.
4. Play the banjo -- There's something about the sound that I love. Ever since a friend of mine introduced me to Bela Fleck, I've wanted to learn how to play the banjo.
5. Make Green Tea bread -- This one sounds odd, but there was a coffee shop in Toyohashi that made green tea bread and it was some of the best stuff I've ever tasted. I wish I had the recipe.
6. Crochet correctly -- I need more practice and somebody to watch for this.
7. Control my foil better -- Fencing. How I miss it. How much more terrible I probably am now since there is no fencing in this area.
Short entry tonight. Nothing deep or meaningful. The full moon prohibits solemnity.
Thursday, March 24, 2005
Spring Break
"In the spring, at the end of the day, you should smell like dirt." -- Margaret Atwood
This week is Spring Break for my school system. I have been taking care of all sorts of little jobs that have been piling up around the house. Many of those have been outdoor jobs.
I have never been much of a yard person. I am much more likely to be found sitting under a tree reading a book than digging and planting. That being said, since I finally came back home, I have been much more interested in gardening.
I'm still not into formal landscapes and heavy-duty earth moving, but for the last two days, I've been cleaning out overgrown flowerbeds and pruning shrubs. I have been designing flower beds in my mind and hauling topsoil. I have enjoyed it. One of the beds I reclaimed contains heirloom daylilies my grandmother planted. It still needs some work, but I planted some new ones to mix in, and the grass that had choked everything is no longer there.
I want to add some colorful trees later on. I want to add cherries and gingko to remind me of Japan. If I can find them, I also want to add a couple of dogwoods. They are some of my favorite spring trees.
Other old-fashioned plants I'd like to have are camellias and a gardenia. I think they are beautiful, and the gardenias are so fragrant.
I guess I am turning into a yard person after all. I never thought I would. I guess now that I have a place that is my own, I can see the point of the hard work. I'll still be found with a book under a tree, but now it will be a tree I put in the ground myself. :) Happy thought, indeed.
This week is Spring Break for my school system. I have been taking care of all sorts of little jobs that have been piling up around the house. Many of those have been outdoor jobs.
I have never been much of a yard person. I am much more likely to be found sitting under a tree reading a book than digging and planting. That being said, since I finally came back home, I have been much more interested in gardening.
I'm still not into formal landscapes and heavy-duty earth moving, but for the last two days, I've been cleaning out overgrown flowerbeds and pruning shrubs. I have been designing flower beds in my mind and hauling topsoil. I have enjoyed it. One of the beds I reclaimed contains heirloom daylilies my grandmother planted. It still needs some work, but I planted some new ones to mix in, and the grass that had choked everything is no longer there.
I want to add some colorful trees later on. I want to add cherries and gingko to remind me of Japan. If I can find them, I also want to add a couple of dogwoods. They are some of my favorite spring trees.
Other old-fashioned plants I'd like to have are camellias and a gardenia. I think they are beautiful, and the gardenias are so fragrant.
I guess I am turning into a yard person after all. I never thought I would. I guess now that I have a place that is my own, I can see the point of the hard work. I'll still be found with a book under a tree, but now it will be a tree I put in the ground myself. :) Happy thought, indeed.
Monday, March 21, 2005
Friends -- Not the show
I'm starting without a quote tonight. I know that's unusual for this blog, and I also know as a quote fiend that one can't throw the proverbial rock on a quotes site or in Bartlett's without hitting a score of friendship quotes. Maybe I'll go back and add one later.
My friends are the greatest group of people on earth. For one thing, they consistently put up with my crap. I am not now, nor have I ever been, an easy person to get along with. I am often moody and am quite frequently not fit company for man or beast. I worry. I am classic Type-A personality, and God help you if you ever have to work on any kind of project with me. Despite these things, they are always around to help pick me up when I run out of strength from trying to do everything on my own. They are always there to bandage the wounds and mend the tears when I fall flat on my face.
I have been thinking about how friendships change as one gets older. I have been blessed in my life with a group of true, long-time friends. My best friend and I have known each other since kindergarten. She toddled up to me as I was screaming my head off after my mother's departure on my first day away from her and my grandmother and asked, "Why are you crying?" We managed to overcome that inauspicious beginning, and she and I passed through the trials of high school and the giddy happinesses of college before she married a great guy and went off to better things.
Another of my friends and I have gone to church together for years. She's the piano player; I play the organ. She's as vivacious as I am shy. She just had her first baby, and seeing her with that precious gift is one of the catalysts that started this reflection.
I don't see any of my friends as much as I used to. I don't guess anybody our age does. Life intrudes. It's hard to get up at 5:30 to go to work and then come home to an active social life later on, especially since, oddly enough, most of my friends are either teachers or are married to teachers, so we all have lesson plans and grading in the evenings. I have never felt disconnected from my friends, though. Even though I only get to see some of them a couple of times during the year, and there are a couple whom I only get to catch up with via email or a phone call, I still feel that bond that connects.
Some people would argue that it's not possible to maintain a friendship this way. I wonder how else it's done? With a few exceptions, we live at least 90 min. away from each other. Actually, several of my friends are scattered across the US, and at least one of my friends is on a different continent. I love them not one tiny bit less, but the active keeping up with things is hard.
The other thing that triggered this meandering is the fact that two of my friends announced I won't get to see them as often because they are going to leave our church. I can understand their reasons...I've pondered doing it myself often enough, but I can't help but be sad. I wanted to say something when the announcement was made, but what was there to say? Now, I just wonder when I will I ever see them. The only time I ever get to see them is on Sunday or when we have a get-together. I feel like I'm losing them.
That sadness brought in memories of other friendships that did just end. Everybody has relationships they are glad to see fade. Mine involve a girl from high school who turned out to be crazy and a guy from grad school who turned out to be an ass. (Oops...violated the PG-13 rating...) There have been other friendships that I really mourn, though. One in particular comes to me when it's quiet and gnaws at me. This friend and I met in graduate school and got along famously. She came to teach at the same school I was working at in Japan, and we had a fabulous time. I thought our friendship was a true thing, but soon after I left, she totally cut ties with me.
It's been two years now, but I still can't figure out what happened. I guess I must have done something that she considered an insult or a betrayal. Maybe she had been waiting for me to leave. I just can't understand how something that seemed so true could have turned out to be so empty. I have tried to find out how she's doing through other friends we share, but, probably out of politeness, nobody knows anything.
I just wish I knew what it was that I had done. I never meant any insult, and I had thought she knew me well enough to at least ask if she thought I'd done something offensive or wrong. I turn the problem over again and again, but I never find any closure on it. If I had an email from her saying, "I hate you. Die, b****, die!" then I could probably move on. I will never know if she's having a good life, if something happened and she is having a hard time, if I offended or was just oblivious when I thought our friendship was true, or anything else. And, I have to live with that. There is no other choice.
The last two days have been a real rollercoaster as I watch life change around me. I am so happy on one hand for the joy of a long-awaited new life. On the other, I'm sad because two more of my friends seem to be slipping away. Bitter and sweet together. I guess that's the nature of life.
My friends are the greatest group of people on earth. For one thing, they consistently put up with my crap. I am not now, nor have I ever been, an easy person to get along with. I am often moody and am quite frequently not fit company for man or beast. I worry. I am classic Type-A personality, and God help you if you ever have to work on any kind of project with me. Despite these things, they are always around to help pick me up when I run out of strength from trying to do everything on my own. They are always there to bandage the wounds and mend the tears when I fall flat on my face.
I have been thinking about how friendships change as one gets older. I have been blessed in my life with a group of true, long-time friends. My best friend and I have known each other since kindergarten. She toddled up to me as I was screaming my head off after my mother's departure on my first day away from her and my grandmother and asked, "Why are you crying?" We managed to overcome that inauspicious beginning, and she and I passed through the trials of high school and the giddy happinesses of college before she married a great guy and went off to better things.
Another of my friends and I have gone to church together for years. She's the piano player; I play the organ. She's as vivacious as I am shy. She just had her first baby, and seeing her with that precious gift is one of the catalysts that started this reflection.
I don't see any of my friends as much as I used to. I don't guess anybody our age does. Life intrudes. It's hard to get up at 5:30 to go to work and then come home to an active social life later on, especially since, oddly enough, most of my friends are either teachers or are married to teachers, so we all have lesson plans and grading in the evenings. I have never felt disconnected from my friends, though. Even though I only get to see some of them a couple of times during the year, and there are a couple whom I only get to catch up with via email or a phone call, I still feel that bond that connects.
Some people would argue that it's not possible to maintain a friendship this way. I wonder how else it's done? With a few exceptions, we live at least 90 min. away from each other. Actually, several of my friends are scattered across the US, and at least one of my friends is on a different continent. I love them not one tiny bit less, but the active keeping up with things is hard.
The other thing that triggered this meandering is the fact that two of my friends announced I won't get to see them as often because they are going to leave our church. I can understand their reasons...I've pondered doing it myself often enough, but I can't help but be sad. I wanted to say something when the announcement was made, but what was there to say? Now, I just wonder when I will I ever see them. The only time I ever get to see them is on Sunday or when we have a get-together. I feel like I'm losing them.
That sadness brought in memories of other friendships that did just end. Everybody has relationships they are glad to see fade. Mine involve a girl from high school who turned out to be crazy and a guy from grad school who turned out to be an ass. (Oops...violated the PG-13 rating...) There have been other friendships that I really mourn, though. One in particular comes to me when it's quiet and gnaws at me. This friend and I met in graduate school and got along famously. She came to teach at the same school I was working at in Japan, and we had a fabulous time. I thought our friendship was a true thing, but soon after I left, she totally cut ties with me.
It's been two years now, but I still can't figure out what happened. I guess I must have done something that she considered an insult or a betrayal. Maybe she had been waiting for me to leave. I just can't understand how something that seemed so true could have turned out to be so empty. I have tried to find out how she's doing through other friends we share, but, probably out of politeness, nobody knows anything.
I just wish I knew what it was that I had done. I never meant any insult, and I had thought she knew me well enough to at least ask if she thought I'd done something offensive or wrong. I turn the problem over again and again, but I never find any closure on it. If I had an email from her saying, "I hate you. Die, b****, die!" then I could probably move on. I will never know if she's having a good life, if something happened and she is having a hard time, if I offended or was just oblivious when I thought our friendship was true, or anything else. And, I have to live with that. There is no other choice.
The last two days have been a real rollercoaster as I watch life change around me. I am so happy on one hand for the joy of a long-awaited new life. On the other, I'm sad because two more of my friends seem to be slipping away. Bitter and sweet together. I guess that's the nature of life.
Thursday, March 17, 2005
Jane Austen
"Let other pens dwell on guilt and misery." -- Jane Austen
I am the perfect cliche of a high school English teacher. One of my favorite books of all time is Pride and Prejudice. I love, love, love it. I have read it more times than I can count. Everytime I come back to it, it's fresh and new. It's totally charming. I always want to be Elizabeth and find my Darcy, my foil.
I have two pieces of jewelry with JA quotes on them. I wear them almost every day. They say words you wear next to your skin have "special powers." Funny...I don't feel like a super hero... :)
I have read several of the other Austen novels, although by no means all of them, but P and P is my favorite. Lately, I've been on an absolute binge of reading sequels, some of them well-done, some of them not, to the original story. The best ones I've found so far are Mr. Darcy Takes a Wife and the Fitzwilliam Darcy, Gentleman series.
What is it about this story that draws hopeless romantics? I realized how many sisters I probably have in my Darcy worship when I saw You've Got Mail for the first time. If it's widespread enough to have made it into a semi-smarmy movie like that, there must be a lot of us.
I think the draw is watching those two perfectly matched characters square off. How rare is it to find a person who balances you? Although the two of them have some marked differences, the core elements are complementary.
I love the verbal fencing matches they have, but I would have to feel a very strong connection with somebody before I could be that forthright with my opinions. Once, a long, long time ago, I was told that I was judgmental. Even though the person who told me that was mad at the time, it's stuck with me. This has made me very hesitant to give strong opinions to any person I don't know well. Elizabeth Bennet I'm not.
Maybe some day I'll find my balance. It's a nice thought. I don't know if there will be a "merry chase" like the novel, but I look forward to finding someone who will walk beside me, not be dominated by my own strength or try to crush it with his own.
I am the perfect cliche of a high school English teacher. One of my favorite books of all time is Pride and Prejudice. I love, love, love it. I have read it more times than I can count. Everytime I come back to it, it's fresh and new. It's totally charming. I always want to be Elizabeth and find my Darcy, my foil.
I have two pieces of jewelry with JA quotes on them. I wear them almost every day. They say words you wear next to your skin have "special powers." Funny...I don't feel like a super hero... :)
I have read several of the other Austen novels, although by no means all of them, but P and P is my favorite. Lately, I've been on an absolute binge of reading sequels, some of them well-done, some of them not, to the original story. The best ones I've found so far are Mr. Darcy Takes a Wife and the Fitzwilliam Darcy, Gentleman series.
What is it about this story that draws hopeless romantics? I realized how many sisters I probably have in my Darcy worship when I saw You've Got Mail for the first time. If it's widespread enough to have made it into a semi-smarmy movie like that, there must be a lot of us.
I think the draw is watching those two perfectly matched characters square off. How rare is it to find a person who balances you? Although the two of them have some marked differences, the core elements are complementary.
I love the verbal fencing matches they have, but I would have to feel a very strong connection with somebody before I could be that forthright with my opinions. Once, a long, long time ago, I was told that I was judgmental. Even though the person who told me that was mad at the time, it's stuck with me. This has made me very hesitant to give strong opinions to any person I don't know well. Elizabeth Bennet I'm not.
Maybe some day I'll find my balance. It's a nice thought. I don't know if there will be a "merry chase" like the novel, but I look forward to finding someone who will walk beside me, not be dominated by my own strength or try to crush it with his own.
Monday, March 14, 2005
Salsa...not the dance
"Only real friends will tell you when your face is dirty." -- Sicilian Proverb
Last night after church I went out with some of my friends. We went to our favorite Mexican restaurant and were laughing, talking, and carrying on.
Then something that has never happened to me before in any restaurant happened. The waiter was bringing us a fresh bowl of salsa, and suddenly, I was liberally anointed with it from the shoulder to the waist. Never in any place I've ever been have I had food spilled on me by a person other than myself, especially by a person who puts food on tables for a living.
I just started laughing. I had no idea what else to do. I couldn't get angry. The poor little guy didn't do it on purpose. The guy I was sitting with also caught part of the salsa flood, and all four of us were about to fall over we were laughing so hard. I think the waitstaff thought we were going to make a huge scene, but why do that? If it wasn't deliberate and it wasn't on-fire-hot, why fuss at somebody who was already upset over it?
It was the perfect ending to a long day of being rained on and hailed on while hunting for my insane cat outside. After we swabbed ourselves off with towels, we moved to a new table. Every thing the guy brought a dish to the table, we all flinched and looked at each other, then burst out laughing. It was a good memory, I think.
Last night after church I went out with some of my friends. We went to our favorite Mexican restaurant and were laughing, talking, and carrying on.
Then something that has never happened to me before in any restaurant happened. The waiter was bringing us a fresh bowl of salsa, and suddenly, I was liberally anointed with it from the shoulder to the waist. Never in any place I've ever been have I had food spilled on me by a person other than myself, especially by a person who puts food on tables for a living.
I just started laughing. I had no idea what else to do. I couldn't get angry. The poor little guy didn't do it on purpose. The guy I was sitting with also caught part of the salsa flood, and all four of us were about to fall over we were laughing so hard. I think the waitstaff thought we were going to make a huge scene, but why do that? If it wasn't deliberate and it wasn't on-fire-hot, why fuss at somebody who was already upset over it?
It was the perfect ending to a long day of being rained on and hailed on while hunting for my insane cat outside. After we swabbed ourselves off with towels, we moved to a new table. Every thing the guy brought a dish to the table, we all flinched and looked at each other, then burst out laughing. It was a good memory, I think.
Tuesday, March 08, 2005
T Day Cometh
"Good teaching is one-fourth preparation and three-fourths theater." -- Gail Godwin
Tomorrow my kids will take the English II writing test. I have mixed emotions about it. Part of me, a very big part of me, is just so glad that the stupid thing is finally here. It has been ruling all our lives for the last two weeks. Another part of me is nervous for the kids. I have done the best I can for them, and all I can do now is sit back and wait for the results.
For the most part, I think they're ready. I just hope they don't get in to the testing room and freak out.
I can't believe how important these stupid tests are. Every facet of high school has been tarnished and sullied by the almighty testing agenda. I suppose there are arguments to be made in their favor. They have increased "accountability", whatever that is. I just hate seeing my kids shaking in their desks when they're told that they can't graduate without them.
There's a whole focus in education that "more is always better," and only the PTB's opinion of what "more" should be is valid. For the most part, I think education "experts" (my, there are so many quotation marks tonight) have been in their ivory towers too long. I wonder how many of them could last a full week in a real classroom. In theory, in the perfect environment, their ideas might be workable. When you've got kids who, for the most part, have never been taught the value of education and who are struggling with monumental survival issues as a matter of daily routine, some of the gilding gets knocked off those shiny golden dreams.
Tomorrow is another day of "theater" and education. I guess I need some sleep to prepare. I hope my kids are resting, too. Too much has to ride on tomorrow's essays.
Tomorrow my kids will take the English II writing test. I have mixed emotions about it. Part of me, a very big part of me, is just so glad that the stupid thing is finally here. It has been ruling all our lives for the last two weeks. Another part of me is nervous for the kids. I have done the best I can for them, and all I can do now is sit back and wait for the results.
For the most part, I think they're ready. I just hope they don't get in to the testing room and freak out.
I can't believe how important these stupid tests are. Every facet of high school has been tarnished and sullied by the almighty testing agenda. I suppose there are arguments to be made in their favor. They have increased "accountability", whatever that is. I just hate seeing my kids shaking in their desks when they're told that they can't graduate without them.
There's a whole focus in education that "more is always better," and only the PTB's opinion of what "more" should be is valid. For the most part, I think education "experts" (my, there are so many quotation marks tonight) have been in their ivory towers too long. I wonder how many of them could last a full week in a real classroom. In theory, in the perfect environment, their ideas might be workable. When you've got kids who, for the most part, have never been taught the value of education and who are struggling with monumental survival issues as a matter of daily routine, some of the gilding gets knocked off those shiny golden dreams.
Tomorrow is another day of "theater" and education. I guess I need some sleep to prepare. I hope my kids are resting, too. Too much has to ride on tomorrow's essays.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)