I've finished book #3 for 2008. Me Talk Pretty One Day by David Sedaris is sarcastic, funny and sweet. I laughed out loud any number of times and will take one of these stories to my book club next week to read aloud.
I've already started #4. I'm moving pretty well for today only being the tenth. This book is a gift from my friend Jane. I would have never in a million years picked this one up. That's the beauty of friends that read. Sometimes they put something on your stack that you would have never thought about.
What did I see today? I saw my hands covered in graphite. I kept washing them, but part of the hazard of teaching a drawing assignment is that one continues to interact with dirty stuff.
I saw views from the video cameras in the hallways. My administrator was so excited that she hollered for Amy and I to come in and watch. I later had to go over to the discipline office and found our discipline administrator doing the same thing. She smiled and said "I may not retire this year if I've got this to watch!" Please, can we keep her? It would take three people to do her job.
I did have one unfortunate encounter. Why are children so silly. For some reason, they think that if they act really aggressive and obnoxious that they are grown. What they are is silly.
I only wrote one referral on the angel. It could have been four or five, but I didn't have the time. She's still in a heap o' trouble.
There is some excitement around school. There are rumors of a walk-out tomorrow. Some person high up the food chain decided that it would make some of the low performing schools better if the high performing clusters from our school were looted and sent across town. Who in their right mind would want their child to transfer to a low performing school? That's just nuts. The kids and parents are livid. I haven't talked to a single person that was in favor of such a move.
One more yahoo who has been promoted to his/her level of incompetence. (to quote my mother) It makes you wonder.
There are good things going on at school. We are working on things that will really make things better for everyone. Change is painful. Sometimes it is good. I'm planning for good.
Thursday, January 10, 2008
Tuesday, January 08, 2008
Book 2 2008
I finished book #2 for 2008 this evening. Wow, I think I'm ahead of 2007 by about three months.
Dress Your Family in Corduroy and Denim by David Sedaris is funny, irreverent and reminds us that we should be grateful not to have such a sibling. If I had such a brother, I would pour him into a column at the new Cowboy Stadium. I love Sedaris and I'm now reading another of his tomes which will hopefully become book #3 for 2008.
Today was interesting. The kids came back to school today and I saw some funky stuff. There were boys that had 3 different price tags hanging off their obviously new pants. I asked my art history kids about that. This engendered some lively discussion. Mr. Foster said that they were posers. He said that they got the pants at Burlington for thirty bucks and then took off the Burlington tag, leaving the original tag that says eighty bucks. This class meets in the library, and giggles greeted the site of ANOTHER boy walking by with tags swinging.
The kids seemed to agree that this was genuine poser behavior--trying to show that they spent way more money than they did and were willing to demonstrate this by leaving the price tags showing.
When I grew up, that was considered, well, tacky. Minnie Pearl made a statement with a price tag hanging from her hat. It was ludicrous.
I was still tripping about that when I caught up with my friend Mr. D. He said he'd noticed the same thing and as we drove up to 7-11 for our morning smoke and cup of coffee he informed me that some of our students were wearing six or seven hundred dollar outfits. I knew that some of the stuff looked pricey. That's just hard to stomach when the same kid says he can't afford a pencil for art class. I always ask to see their shoes when they say that crap. If they are wearing $200 shoes or have a cell phone or are carrying a Dooney or Coach bag then I fail at sympathy.
Mr. D. told me that some of them spent ridiculous amounts of money on stuff that they'd wear to school and then return to the store. He thought that's why they left the tags on. Regardless, it's pretty silly.
This afternoon we met to work on the school redesign project and it was really good. There was a large amount of enthusiasm and creative energy. I love it when that happens. It's invigorating!
More will be revealed!
Dress Your Family in Corduroy and Denim by David Sedaris is funny, irreverent and reminds us that we should be grateful not to have such a sibling. If I had such a brother, I would pour him into a column at the new Cowboy Stadium. I love Sedaris and I'm now reading another of his tomes which will hopefully become book #3 for 2008.
Today was interesting. The kids came back to school today and I saw some funky stuff. There were boys that had 3 different price tags hanging off their obviously new pants. I asked my art history kids about that. This engendered some lively discussion. Mr. Foster said that they were posers. He said that they got the pants at Burlington for thirty bucks and then took off the Burlington tag, leaving the original tag that says eighty bucks. This class meets in the library, and giggles greeted the site of ANOTHER boy walking by with tags swinging.
The kids seemed to agree that this was genuine poser behavior--trying to show that they spent way more money than they did and were willing to demonstrate this by leaving the price tags showing.
When I grew up, that was considered, well, tacky. Minnie Pearl made a statement with a price tag hanging from her hat. It was ludicrous.
I was still tripping about that when I caught up with my friend Mr. D. He said he'd noticed the same thing and as we drove up to 7-11 for our morning smoke and cup of coffee he informed me that some of our students were wearing six or seven hundred dollar outfits. I knew that some of the stuff looked pricey. That's just hard to stomach when the same kid says he can't afford a pencil for art class. I always ask to see their shoes when they say that crap. If they are wearing $200 shoes or have a cell phone or are carrying a Dooney or Coach bag then I fail at sympathy.
Mr. D. told me that some of them spent ridiculous amounts of money on stuff that they'd wear to school and then return to the store. He thought that's why they left the tags on. Regardless, it's pretty silly.
This afternoon we met to work on the school redesign project and it was really good. There was a large amount of enthusiasm and creative energy. I love it when that happens. It's invigorating!
More will be revealed!
Sunday, January 06, 2008
Book 1 2008
Book 1 of 2008 is done. I've worked on it for a couple of weeks as it was 1128 pages.
Tedious in places, it forwards a good story in the 3rd of a series called "A Song of Fire and Ice."
It's made me glad, made me sad and furious in some spots. George R. R. Martin cannot be relied upon to kill off a character. They have annoying way of showing back up alive. Just when you get used to a beloved character being gone, they pop up again like a persistent pimple.
I'm going to have to go to Borders tomorrow to get the next one. I asked for a book store gift certificate with the intent of getting it. I had pre-ordered A Feast For Crows from Amazon prior to its publication, but it never came and I never followed up. I had to start the series all over again to get back to where I was several years ago.
I like books that I like to re-read. I always get more from them in subsequent readings. Life gives me experiences to lend to the reading and the meaning changes.
It's only 9pm and I must pick up another book in the mean time. I'm horrible about reading part of a book before I pick up another one and I have have read tomes all over the place. Part of my goal in 2008 is to FINISH a book every week. My bookclub should be good for at least six of them. I look around and my eyes settle on the book my friend Jane gave me for Christmas. Perhaps I can gobble it up and get back to Feast For Crows before I've forgotten the story line. I still need to read a David Sedaris book for book club. Oooooo, which one? (goes and digs in the headboard of the bed) Okay, Dress Your Family in Corduroy and Denim I've not read it yet, so I guess it's the lucky winner.
More will be revealed. . . .
Tedious in places, it forwards a good story in the 3rd of a series called "A Song of Fire and Ice."
It's made me glad, made me sad and furious in some spots. George R. R. Martin cannot be relied upon to kill off a character. They have annoying way of showing back up alive. Just when you get used to a beloved character being gone, they pop up again like a persistent pimple.
I'm going to have to go to Borders tomorrow to get the next one. I asked for a book store gift certificate with the intent of getting it. I had pre-ordered A Feast For Crows from Amazon prior to its publication, but it never came and I never followed up. I had to start the series all over again to get back to where I was several years ago.
I like books that I like to re-read. I always get more from them in subsequent readings. Life gives me experiences to lend to the reading and the meaning changes.
It's only 9pm and I must pick up another book in the mean time. I'm horrible about reading part of a book before I pick up another one and I have have read tomes all over the place. Part of my goal in 2008 is to FINISH a book every week. My bookclub should be good for at least six of them. I look around and my eyes settle on the book my friend Jane gave me for Christmas. Perhaps I can gobble it up and get back to Feast For Crows before I've forgotten the story line. I still need to read a David Sedaris book for book club. Oooooo, which one? (goes and digs in the headboard of the bed) Okay, Dress Your Family in Corduroy and Denim I've not read it yet, so I guess it's the lucky winner.
More will be revealed. . . .
I didn't see much, I hid on the porch
I've been laying low. I count a good weekend as one that I don't get out of my jammies
We are starting a new year. I have a few small goals.
I'm not going to smoke inside my house. I've gone outside to the porch to smoke. I don't want Rachael and Becca to gripe that their clothes smell like smoke when they come home to do laundry.
I'm going to rid myself of any clothes that do not fit. My closet bar is drooping. Mostly because I value the books better.
I want to read a book a week. I'm at the end of a nice one. A Storm of Swords. I want to finish it tomorrow and get the next one in the series.
I cringe at this time. I am shy. I don't want to talk to anyone. I DO want to talk to folks I knew back when. I'm so lucky that some of them are talking to me.
Woo Hooo, happy new year.
Please be kind. Be kind to one another.
SQ
We are starting a new year. I have a few small goals.
I'm not going to smoke inside my house. I've gone outside to the porch to smoke. I don't want Rachael and Becca to gripe that their clothes smell like smoke when they come home to do laundry.
I'm going to rid myself of any clothes that do not fit. My closet bar is drooping. Mostly because I value the books better.
I want to read a book a week. I'm at the end of a nice one. A Storm of Swords. I want to finish it tomorrow and get the next one in the series.
I cringe at this time. I am shy. I don't want to talk to anyone. I DO want to talk to folks I knew back when. I'm so lucky that some of them are talking to me.
Woo Hooo, happy new year.
Please be kind. Be kind to one another.
SQ
Thursday, December 20, 2007
Education in America Today
Part of a rant to a long, long, long time friend. . .
"Some major school shit is about to go down around here.
"Some major school shit is about to go down around here.
Thank the shrubbery for leaving no child behind. I guess one reader in the
family is enough.
family is enough.
I just don't understand why they want to slap ineffective bandaids on
things. Children learn critical thinking skills from fine arts education.
If children can't read, they can't solve math problems. Music teaches math.
Art teaches thinking. Reading makes the brain grow exponentially.
things. Children learn critical thinking skills from fine arts education.
If children can't read, they can't solve math problems. Music teaches math.
Art teaches thinking. Reading makes the brain grow exponentially.
The masks are wonderful and amazing. Any school should be proud to
produce such artwork. Funding helps.
produce such artwork. Funding helps.
I got supplies this week. Construction paper and pencils and glue and
erasers and markers and drawing paper. Really basic stuff. I've done
without until this week. We are expected to produce museum quality
work on a bucket of broken crayon budget. It's fucking sick. Pardon my
perfectly fine anglo saxon.
erasers and markers and drawing paper. Really basic stuff. I've done
without until this week. We are expected to produce museum quality
work on a bucket of broken crayon budget. It's fucking sick. Pardon my
perfectly fine anglo saxon.
(You gotta love those anglo saxons for so many meaty BAD words)
I'm on a committee to restructure the largest high school
in Texas. The THEORY is good. Let me tell you a joke about
that. . .
in Texas. The THEORY is good. Let me tell you a joke about
that. . .
A young boy went to his father and asked, "Dad, what's the
difference between theory and reality?"
"Well, son, the best way to explain this is a practical exercise.
Go ask your Mom if she'd sleep with a stranger a million dollars
and come tell me her answer.
The boy returned and said, " She said she would, Dad." "OK,"
replied the father, "Go ask your sister the same question."
The boy returned and said that his sister also answered yes to the
question and then asked his Dad, "What's this got to do with theory
and reality?"
"It's simple, son. In theory, we live with millionaires.
In reality, we live with a couple of sluts."
In theory, we have really good schools that produce exemplary students
ready to graduate and attend college. In reality, we uns is in the
hood getting jiggy on the low down. I fin da do dat, crunk.Educating in America today is more challenging than it has ever been.
We're supposed to work miracles with damaged goods. You and I were lucky
to grow up
in an environment that valued education. Jayzus, you had valedictory trophys
sitting on your TV from older sisters. My mother was salutatorian. You and
I did really well in an intensely intellectually gifted crowd. We had
parents who did not see college as an option, but as a requirement. We
feel that way for our own children.The urban education system today provides us with 3rd generation welfare
mentality. I have students who are parents who have grandmothers who are
younger than I am. I heard a child say "My momma don't care if I have a
nother baby because we get a check."We have children who are or have parents who are not in this country legally.
These parents are terrified to come to school and deal with any kind of
authority. Often these parents are tremendously undereducated. It's kind
of hard to justify the purchase of textbooks for seventh grade if there are
ten kids in the family and food is scarce. We have students whose parents have learned to make money on the "dark side."
I have barrio princesses who have lots of gold jewelry and spend thirty bucks
every two weeks to have their nails done. Do their school work? What a silly
thought. They are killing time because the law says they have to be in school
until they are 18. They're going to get married to some other high dollar drug
dealing vato and have lots of pretty babies whenever babydaddy is not in lockup.
I have gangland "princes" wearing their gold and diamond encrusted "grills" who
cannot bring a pencil to art class. Values are skewed.
Education is going to breed different classes. We are going to have folks that
value education and we are going to have a vast undereducated
class that doesn't care less about school and the value of a free and public
education. I'm still tripping about the lady at 7-11 the other day. She saw my teacher ID
on my lanyard and said "I HATE teachers, they make me sick."I wanted to say something pithy like "I hope you want your children to be gangstas"
I ask my students, the girls especially about what kind of man they want to marry.
I ask them if they want a gangsta or a man with a briefcase. They tell me that they
want to marry doctors and lawyers. I ask them where they are going to meet doctors
and lawyers apart from the free clinic and legal aid. They somehow think that
there are fairy godmothers out there that will turn them into Jennifer Lopez and
put them in the pathway of Matthew Mcconaughey. Somehow they think lightning will
strike them because they KNOW they are all so special because we've told them for
years that they are all so special (because we didn't want to damage their fragile
little psyches)I have faith that a few will move on. One girl that I questioned so asked me what
job she could do that would put her around lots of lawyers. I told her she could
be a court reporter. That's a nice income and it certainly comes in contact with
lots of legal eagle types. She did the research and came back to me and said that
she thought that was a really nice career and that her mother was real excited
about it. She's lovely and pretty darn smart. She's in court reporter school and
in a year and a half she will be the cutest court reporter in Dallas County. At
least her mother had a vision of something beyond "do you want fries with that?"Kelly, I think I need to put this rant on my blog. I love you for provoking me to
write. Come to think of it, you did often give me inspiration. I'm looking forward
to our pub crawl."Hugs, SQ
Happy Birthday Becca
24 years ago today Rebecca was born. She's grown tall and lovely and brilliant.
At school, I hugged a neighboring teacher who has a birthday also today.
I tell her it is my daughter's birthday and she says it is no wonder that
we get along. Ms. E. is one of the nicest people and she's a good neighbor.
I forgot for a small time that it was her birthday also and told her I was
wracked with the memory of being in labor and cursing my sweet hubby.
She forgave me. In my mind, I recall the day 24 years ago in some detail.
I remember the doctor coming in and looking at the oxytocin drip and
him cranking it up a LOT to help me expel this child. She was so small. She
was my tiniest baby. She was so pink and so annoyed that the world
was messing with her. Her main concerns were eating and sleeping. Not
much has changed in 24 years.
I have to ask myself, what did I see today? What can I be a primary source for?
I saw plaid boxer shorts. A fellow teacher was getting after one of his
students for sagging too low for common courtesy. I told the kid I didn't want
to see his underwear and he stated that HIS underwear was clean. I told
him that my underwear was clean also and that perhaps I should arrange
my slacks so that he would get to see my underwear. He was horrified. He
told me that he really did NOT want to see my underwear. I told him that I
didn't want to see his either. I cut him a piece of jute to make a belt to hold
his pants up.
"It's the style, Miss." That's what I hear. I think I will interview my classes
and ask them if it is okay for me to show my underwear to them. I don't
have any thongs, but I'm inspired to get one.
I'm thinking terribly wicked thoughts about how to further combat the sight
of teenage boy butt.
This evening I saw my beautiful daughter. I'm glad she was happy with our
gift to her. She looked lovely with her emerald pendant. We went for
sushi. That's what she wanted to do and the restaurant was beautiful
and pleasant and more up scale than we are used to. The food was out of
this world. I had trouble with the chopsticks, but I managed to eat enough.
The restaurant was beautiful, the service was delightful. I want to go back.
I want more of that fishy goodness.
Today was a wonderful day. I'm so proud of my lovely daughter.
I win.
At school, I hugged a neighboring teacher who has a birthday also today.
I tell her it is my daughter's birthday and she says it is no wonder that
we get along. Ms. E. is one of the nicest people and she's a good neighbor.
I forgot for a small time that it was her birthday also and told her I was
wracked with the memory of being in labor and cursing my sweet hubby.
She forgave me. In my mind, I recall the day 24 years ago in some detail.
I remember the doctor coming in and looking at the oxytocin drip and
him cranking it up a LOT to help me expel this child. She was so small. She
was my tiniest baby. She was so pink and so annoyed that the world
was messing with her. Her main concerns were eating and sleeping. Not
much has changed in 24 years.
I have to ask myself, what did I see today? What can I be a primary source for?
I saw plaid boxer shorts. A fellow teacher was getting after one of his
students for sagging too low for common courtesy. I told the kid I didn't want
to see his underwear and he stated that HIS underwear was clean. I told
him that my underwear was clean also and that perhaps I should arrange
my slacks so that he would get to see my underwear. He was horrified. He
told me that he really did NOT want to see my underwear. I told him that I
didn't want to see his either. I cut him a piece of jute to make a belt to hold
his pants up.
"It's the style, Miss." That's what I hear. I think I will interview my classes
and ask them if it is okay for me to show my underwear to them. I don't
have any thongs, but I'm inspired to get one.
I'm thinking terribly wicked thoughts about how to further combat the sight
of teenage boy butt.
This evening I saw my beautiful daughter. I'm glad she was happy with our
gift to her. She looked lovely with her emerald pendant. We went for
sushi. That's what she wanted to do and the restaurant was beautiful
and pleasant and more up scale than we are used to. The food was out of
this world. I had trouble with the chopsticks, but I managed to eat enough.
The restaurant was beautiful, the service was delightful. I want to go back.
I want more of that fishy goodness.
Today was a wonderful day. I'm so proud of my lovely daughter.
I win.
Tuesday, November 27, 2007
Hopping Across the Pond
Dateline: November 18, 2007
Mark and I anxiously went to DFW somewhat in advance of our flight to Gatwick.
We got there really early so that we could check in and then chill in
the international terminal.
It was fun. We went to the duty free shop and then went to the pub there
and had some spicy cheese and potato dish. We were sitting there eating
spicy cheese and potato thingies when we saw a fellow escorted by in handcuffs. I guess I'm glad if he was going to act badly and get on my plane.
I sure wondered what he did to get hauled off in such a way.
We saw this lovely blue glass enclosure that seemed to have a maze inside.
We saw people walking in concentric circles with studious intent upon their
faces. We had to go check it out and learned that there were lamps installed
in the floors that when activated began to emit some sort of chime or tone
that resonated with the glass. This was pretty cool and Mark and I wandered back and forth and set off as much noise as we could.
After looking at a terminal map, we learned that there was some other kind
of sculpture off on the other side. As we had time to kill, we wandered over.
It was some kind of wicked tilty fantasy house. We wandered around it and
I inspected the surface which was treated like David Smith Cubi sculpture.
The interior spaces were convoluted and the light wandered in with mysterious ways.
There was a candy shop that we passed several times. I gaze fondly at the yogurt covered everything and the varied gummy items. After about the first
pass I see IT. It is amazing and wonderful on a number of levels. After all,
we are going to see Virginia. She collects lunch boxes and we have gifted
her with any number of them over the years. It's a pink Hello Kitty Lunch Box. That may not mean much to a lot of folks but Virginia also has an affinity for Hello Kitty. I mean the woman had a Hello Kitty mousepad and stool. Well, in addition to that, it contained collector Hello Kitty Pez dispensers. It was a BINGO that screamed loud and large at two nostalgic parents. We bought it and packed it in the carry on bags.
Winding down, we go to sit at the gate and people watch.
I see African ministers carrying bibles. Two of them hook up and converse with much enthusiasm. I see people who don't want to be sociable. We're pretty friendly, so we just smile at them.
We see a fellow who bears an astonishing resemblance to Eric Clapton. To be frank we didn't put it together at the time, but I nudge Mark and say "That guy looks like some famous old rocker." Mark checks him out and agrees. He's obnoxious and says "Rock Star" somewhat loudly out of the side of his mouth and then acts all innocent. "Rock Star" turns around to see where it is coming from. I'm sitting right across from him so I just smile. He smiles back.
Mark and I cuss and discuss between us. We know this guy is someone that we should know, or at least is the spitting image of someone we recognize. We continue to chill and they start calling people for the flight. "Rock Star" turns to us and asks what time it is.
Two ladies and a baby stroller come up. The baby is wearing a really thick clear plastic helmet. They get to go on before us. I've never seen a baby wearing a plastic helmet like that so I figure it is for some medical thing I've not heard of.
I was good, I did the online check in thing exactly 24 hours before the flight which (on British Airways) gives us the option to pick our seats. I'm able to secure bulkhead seats which give us leg room. WOOHOO. It also puts us right by the toilet.
It's real interesting to see all the folks who come by to use the toilet. We saw "Rock Star" numerous times. He was sitting up in pricier seats than we had, but he came back for the facilities.
I learn the story of the baby in the helmet. He's a cute little guy. He was a year old last week. I asked the older lady if he was her grandbaby and she said he was a great-nephew. He's going home to the UK after a visit to a medical center in San Antonio. He apparently had some kind of condition that required skull surgery. What I got was that the prognosis was much better if the surgery was done at a tiny age before the fontanel closes. She said that the hospital in San Antonio was one of three in the world that worked on really young ones. She said that this brave fellow had been to San Antonio four times since he was born. He'd just been for a new helmet fitting. She told me that the surgery was not done in the UK until 18 months and that the mortality rate was frightening. I cannot imagine.
I'm in the middle seat between Mark and a fellow that was easily Mark's size. I was squished. The other gentleman sounded some variety of UK. Welsh maybe. Not English, not Scottish, not Irish, but still distinctly Brit of some kind. He was a pleasant seat companion. At one point I saw him thumbing through his passport. He had SO many stickers and stamps.
I had to allow to him that I was envious because I've had the darnedest time getting stamps in my passport. I don't CARE if they search my luggage if they stamp my passport. I got three stamps in one day in Frankfort in March and they started fussing at me for going in and out of controlled areas (I couldn't help it, I was trying to get 30 people from Frankfurt to Rome after missing a connection)
The kindly fellow looked at his passport and said kind of wistfully "Yes, I've traveled a lot in the last year." I saw stamps from places that I don't think I'd want to go. I hope he was headed home.
I really liked this direct flight to Gatwick. It seemed that we got there relatively quickly (for anyone that has flown across the pond). We had to walk quite a long way to get to where our luggage was. We passed up "Rock Star" and his limo driver who apparently had a much better deal about getting through customs. I think they knew where the "short" line was. I think the limo almost pulled up at the plane. Damn the luck.
We collected our bags and followed Virginia's directions. . . "Turn right and go to the trains. Get on the one to Bedford." We did exactly that, and at 11:30 am on Monday the 19th we got off the train to see the beautiful face of our daughter and the wonderful smile of the man who loves her.
More Adventures from Across the Pond to follow. . . .
Mark and I anxiously went to DFW somewhat in advance of our flight to Gatwick.
We got there really early so that we could check in and then chill in
the international terminal.
It was fun. We went to the duty free shop and then went to the pub there
and had some spicy cheese and potato dish. We were sitting there eating
spicy cheese and potato thingies when we saw a fellow escorted by in handcuffs. I guess I'm glad if he was going to act badly and get on my plane.
I sure wondered what he did to get hauled off in such a way.
We saw this lovely blue glass enclosure that seemed to have a maze inside.
We saw people walking in concentric circles with studious intent upon their
faces. We had to go check it out and learned that there were lamps installed
in the floors that when activated began to emit some sort of chime or tone
that resonated with the glass. This was pretty cool and Mark and I wandered back and forth and set off as much noise as we could.
After looking at a terminal map, we learned that there was some other kind
of sculpture off on the other side. As we had time to kill, we wandered over.
It was some kind of wicked tilty fantasy house. We wandered around it and
I inspected the surface which was treated like David Smith Cubi sculpture.
The interior spaces were convoluted and the light wandered in with mysterious ways.
There was a candy shop that we passed several times. I gaze fondly at the yogurt covered everything and the varied gummy items. After about the first
pass I see IT. It is amazing and wonderful on a number of levels. After all,
we are going to see Virginia. She collects lunch boxes and we have gifted
her with any number of them over the years. It's a pink Hello Kitty Lunch Box. That may not mean much to a lot of folks but Virginia also has an affinity for Hello Kitty. I mean the woman had a Hello Kitty mousepad and stool. Well, in addition to that, it contained collector Hello Kitty Pez dispensers. It was a BINGO that screamed loud and large at two nostalgic parents. We bought it and packed it in the carry on bags.
Winding down, we go to sit at the gate and people watch.
I see African ministers carrying bibles. Two of them hook up and converse with much enthusiasm. I see people who don't want to be sociable. We're pretty friendly, so we just smile at them.
We see a fellow who bears an astonishing resemblance to Eric Clapton. To be frank we didn't put it together at the time, but I nudge Mark and say "That guy looks like some famous old rocker." Mark checks him out and agrees. He's obnoxious and says "Rock Star" somewhat loudly out of the side of his mouth and then acts all innocent. "Rock Star" turns around to see where it is coming from. I'm sitting right across from him so I just smile. He smiles back.
Mark and I cuss and discuss between us. We know this guy is someone that we should know, or at least is the spitting image of someone we recognize. We continue to chill and they start calling people for the flight. "Rock Star" turns to us and asks what time it is.
Two ladies and a baby stroller come up. The baby is wearing a really thick clear plastic helmet. They get to go on before us. I've never seen a baby wearing a plastic helmet like that so I figure it is for some medical thing I've not heard of.
I was good, I did the online check in thing exactly 24 hours before the flight which (on British Airways) gives us the option to pick our seats. I'm able to secure bulkhead seats which give us leg room. WOOHOO. It also puts us right by the toilet.
It's real interesting to see all the folks who come by to use the toilet. We saw "Rock Star" numerous times. He was sitting up in pricier seats than we had, but he came back for the facilities.
I learn the story of the baby in the helmet. He's a cute little guy. He was a year old last week. I asked the older lady if he was her grandbaby and she said he was a great-nephew. He's going home to the UK after a visit to a medical center in San Antonio. He apparently had some kind of condition that required skull surgery. What I got was that the prognosis was much better if the surgery was done at a tiny age before the fontanel closes. She said that the hospital in San Antonio was one of three in the world that worked on really young ones. She said that this brave fellow had been to San Antonio four times since he was born. He'd just been for a new helmet fitting. She told me that the surgery was not done in the UK until 18 months and that the mortality rate was frightening. I cannot imagine.
I'm in the middle seat between Mark and a fellow that was easily Mark's size. I was squished. The other gentleman sounded some variety of UK. Welsh maybe. Not English, not Scottish, not Irish, but still distinctly Brit of some kind. He was a pleasant seat companion. At one point I saw him thumbing through his passport. He had SO many stickers and stamps.
I had to allow to him that I was envious because I've had the darnedest time getting stamps in my passport. I don't CARE if they search my luggage if they stamp my passport. I got three stamps in one day in Frankfort in March and they started fussing at me for going in and out of controlled areas (I couldn't help it, I was trying to get 30 people from Frankfurt to Rome after missing a connection)
The kindly fellow looked at his passport and said kind of wistfully "Yes, I've traveled a lot in the last year." I saw stamps from places that I don't think I'd want to go. I hope he was headed home.
I really liked this direct flight to Gatwick. It seemed that we got there relatively quickly (for anyone that has flown across the pond). We had to walk quite a long way to get to where our luggage was. We passed up "Rock Star" and his limo driver who apparently had a much better deal about getting through customs. I think they knew where the "short" line was. I think the limo almost pulled up at the plane. Damn the luck.
We collected our bags and followed Virginia's directions. . . "Turn right and go to the trains. Get on the one to Bedford." We did exactly that, and at 11:30 am on Monday the 19th we got off the train to see the beautiful face of our daughter and the wonderful smile of the man who loves her.
More Adventures from Across the Pond to follow. . . .
Saturday, November 10, 2007
Hava Nagila
I just went to the coolest wedding ever. Two of my former students who hooked up in my class got married tonight.
I coach Academic Decathlon and almost every year we have an "AcDec Romance" Well our AcDec Romance from 2001 got married tonight.
In March of 2000 we all went to France. So many of the folks that were there tonight were on that trip to France. The bride and groom were on the trip but they were not an item at that time. We had adventures. I had issues with the bride slamming four glasses of sauvignon blanc in about fifteen minutes. Her bridesmaid matched her but the bride got really sick. She was horribly sick the next day. The groom, theatrical person that he was, was part of a group of our kids who gathered on a sidewalk in Chartres singing about "Stupid Americans." It was really funny and people threw money in the hat.
In 2001, I had both these angels in two classes. Art History and Academic Decathlon. I didn't notice any particular chemistry until we went to the state meet in March. After that they were inseparable. They've been together ever since.
Tonight I witnessed the most beautiful wedding I've ever attended. I have never been to a Jewish wedding before but this was stunning. It was intimate and funny and everyone watching was involved. I've been to lots of weddings but I was a bystander, not a participant. Tonight I felt like I participated.
We pulled up to the venue and apparently entered through the back door. We didn't know that there was valet parking. Wine was being served from the get go. The reception started before the wedding. That was kind of cool. I visited with the bride who was the prettiest bride I ever saw. She hugged me so hard. I was lucky to have her all four years of high school. She was a delight. She told her bridesmaids that I was her second mother.
The wedding place was odd. It was in an incredibly quirky place not far from the jail. It looked very industrial from the outside, but the inside was filled with odd rooms that were decorated in eclectic ways. We got inside and it was wonderful. It was wonderland.
The groom wore pink converse high tops. This is typical of him. Well, I don't know about pink but he always wore converse high tops. The bride was in a gorgeous wedding gown. She was sublime.
I knew all of the parents involved and it was great to see them. It's just kind of funny to know that his mom and her mom are now related.
The ceremony was gorgeous. There were very many traditional elements that were enacted. There was a canopy and prayer shawls and they stomped the glass to everyone yelling "Mazeltov!!"
It was beautiful. I was happy to see so many people that I'd not seen in a few years. I was pleased to see two very favored students join themselves together. I cannot describe the look on the groom's face as he gazed into his new wife's eyes.
I hope I will be invited to the bris of their first son.
I coach Academic Decathlon and almost every year we have an "AcDec Romance" Well our AcDec Romance from 2001 got married tonight.
In March of 2000 we all went to France. So many of the folks that were there tonight were on that trip to France. The bride and groom were on the trip but they were not an item at that time. We had adventures. I had issues with the bride slamming four glasses of sauvignon blanc in about fifteen minutes. Her bridesmaid matched her but the bride got really sick. She was horribly sick the next day. The groom, theatrical person that he was, was part of a group of our kids who gathered on a sidewalk in Chartres singing about "Stupid Americans." It was really funny and people threw money in the hat.
In 2001, I had both these angels in two classes. Art History and Academic Decathlon. I didn't notice any particular chemistry until we went to the state meet in March. After that they were inseparable. They've been together ever since.
Tonight I witnessed the most beautiful wedding I've ever attended. I have never been to a Jewish wedding before but this was stunning. It was intimate and funny and everyone watching was involved. I've been to lots of weddings but I was a bystander, not a participant. Tonight I felt like I participated.
We pulled up to the venue and apparently entered through the back door. We didn't know that there was valet parking. Wine was being served from the get go. The reception started before the wedding. That was kind of cool. I visited with the bride who was the prettiest bride I ever saw. She hugged me so hard. I was lucky to have her all four years of high school. She was a delight. She told her bridesmaids that I was her second mother.
The wedding place was odd. It was in an incredibly quirky place not far from the jail. It looked very industrial from the outside, but the inside was filled with odd rooms that were decorated in eclectic ways. We got inside and it was wonderful. It was wonderland.
The groom wore pink converse high tops. This is typical of him. Well, I don't know about pink but he always wore converse high tops. The bride was in a gorgeous wedding gown. She was sublime.
I knew all of the parents involved and it was great to see them. It's just kind of funny to know that his mom and her mom are now related.
The ceremony was gorgeous. There were very many traditional elements that were enacted. There was a canopy and prayer shawls and they stomped the glass to everyone yelling "Mazeltov!!"
It was beautiful. I was happy to see so many people that I'd not seen in a few years. I was pleased to see two very favored students join themselves together. I cannot describe the look on the groom's face as he gazed into his new wife's eyes.
I hope I will be invited to the bris of their first son.
Monday, November 05, 2007
Babies
(sent to a friend in response to an email forward thing that involved Mother Theresa)
Dear Friend I Love you!
Dear Friend I Love you!
I didn't think so much of Mother Theresa. She caused a lot of people suffer that didn't need to suffer. I would not deny dying people morphine to let them be closer to God with their suffering. That does not follow my logic. I would not have denied my grandmother the only shot of morphine she took at the end of her liver cancer. I think she was plenty close to God. Mother Theresa did many wonderful things, but I guess I have some grudges. I wouldn't want to equate any amount of unnecessary suffering as something that my God would want. Maybe she has a different God than I do. The God of my understanding would not want people to suffer for no reason. My grandmother was plenty close to God her entire life and was one of the most profoundly Christian people I've ever known. The God I know would not have wanted her to feel any pain at all.
We leave the US in 13 days to go to England to see #1 and her new husband. We get to meet her inlaws and our new inlaws. The people that we hope to share grandchildren with in not so long a time. I'm ready. I WANT GRANDBABIES. I just wish that my only hope for grandbabies were not across the pond.
My cousin just had a beautiful baby in Denton. Maya Corinne *****. I think she was born 10/22, but I'm fuzzy now. My cousin is a photographer and the baby pictures that she has taken are amazing. Makes me proud of my cousin and her beautiful daughter.
I continue to wrestle the inner city youth. They need wrestling. I read in the paper today that Texas has the highest teenage birth rate. http://www.dallasnews.com/sharedcontent/dws/dn/latestnews/stories/110507dnmetteenbirths.35daddb.htmlThey said that 24% of the teen birth rate was second or more baby. I've had two kiddos (juniors) have a baby this year (both boys are gorgeous) and I've got two that are pregnant now (including a freshman that I just got as a transfer student from BA)
My last year at HHS I had a junior in my jewelry class. She was a special ed kid and she kind of did work as I could get her to do it, but she liked to color a lot. I got her interested in doing an altered book project (where you take a book and paint over it and paste stuff into it) and she came to class with her book. She'd painted over the cover and some of the pages and had pasted pictures of a little boy into some of the pages. It was her child who was seven. She was a special ed junior in high school with a seven year old child. She was so proud of him and said he was the most beautiful thing in her life. I don't doubt that but I wanted to SCREAM that SOMEONE should have gone to jail for making this child pregnant when she was a child.
My next to last year at HHS (2003) one of the Down's Syndrome girls was pregnant. She was so barely functional. I don't know if she even knew what was going on with her. I remember her wearing overalls over her huge belly. She delivered a normal baby and unfortunately died of asphyxiation about two days after she went home from the hospital leaving her normal baby to be raised by her parents. Go figure.
I pray for good and right things to happen..I see some scary things. I know that my friends who are medical caregivers do. Do you remember all the fuss over the baby whose parents were HIV and had Hep and VD? I was told I didn't have to take the baby's picture. I had faith that there was nothing that baby could give to me and I took a good picture (1986 or 87). That was back when we didn't know too much about HIV. She was a pretty baby. I can still remember the baby's face.
My students laugh at me when I dismiss 4th period on a Friday afternoon. I tell them to travel safely and not get pregnant. Kids laugh at me and ask me later what I mean. I ask them if they know what causes babies. They laugh but then they realize that I'm serious. I can't say what I want to say. I can only tell them that abstinence is the only way (per the mandate of the state of Texas). I tell them not to cause babies unless they are serious to a lifelong commitment. I tell them that the only sure way to keep from being pregnant or getting an STD is to be abstinent.
Who in our powers that be was ever a teenager? From the beginning of recorded time, babies have happened. They occur regardless of the "morality" of their culture. I'm disappointed that our state mandates such an archaic exchange of information. We have a problem with too many teens getting pregnant. We are allowed to give them very limited information which has no bearing on their reproduction capabilities.
Would it be better if I could have preached at Miss X who is my student for the third year? If I'd been able to talk to her frankly at the age of 14 would she get pregnant? Would she have a child now if I had been able to talk to her in a very frank and honest manner about what causes babies? I do not begrudge that beautiful baby. But I see CHILDREN at my school who are pregnant and don't have the sense God gave a chicken. I see pregnant children with 29 year old mothers becoming grandmothers and 36 year old grandmothers becoming great-grandmothers.
This is not how America gets ahead. This is how we breed a 5th generation of welfare mentality.
....overheard in the hallway "My Momma don't care if I'm pregnant 'cause we get another check."
I'm serious.
Who in our powers that be was ever a teenager? From the beginning of recorded time, babies have happened. They occur regardless of the "morality" of their culture. I'm disappointed that our state mandates such an archaic exchange of information. We have a problem with too many teens getting pregnant. We are allowed to give them very limited information which has no bearing on their reproduction capabilities.
Would it be better if I could have preached at Miss X who is my student for the third year? If I'd been able to talk to her frankly at the age of 14 would she get pregnant? Would she have a child now if I had been able to talk to her in a very frank and honest manner about what causes babies? I do not begrudge that beautiful baby. But I see CHILDREN at my school who are pregnant and don't have the sense God gave a chicken. I see pregnant children with 29 year old mothers becoming grandmothers and 36 year old grandmothers becoming great-grandmothers.
This is not how America gets ahead. This is how we breed a 5th generation of welfare mentality.
....overheard in the hallway "My Momma don't care if I'm pregnant 'cause we get another check."
I'm serious.
I hope I reach some of them. Please let me reach at least one in the way that the state limits me.
I WANT GRAND BABIES. #2 girl is graduated and working and doesn't want to date anyone in particular and doesn't want children at all. DAMN. #3 girl is a senior at TCU and she's got so much going on. She's prepping for the LSAT. She's got years of school ahead of her. I hope to God #4 boy doesn't knock some chippy up. I guess I have standards.
I miss you and would love to see you sometime. Please let us make a date!
Love,
Me
Friday, November 02, 2007
A Thirty Foot Long Blue Penis
I will put about a week's worth into this entry. I've been busy and have had lots of experiences.
I'll start with Monday. I got to school and walked in and surveyed the graffiti sprayed on the building over the weekend and was astonished to see a thirty foot long blue penis spray painted on the side of the Automotive building. (Monty said it was longer)
To be honest, I came in from another direction. I was standing in the walkway early on when another teacher came in and exclaimed about the graffiti. It's pretty normal around here, but someone else said something so I walked down to see it and by golly there was a hairy scrotum and a thirty (at least) foot long penis spray painted on the wall. (Another friend commented that it was circumcised)
Hmmm. That's special I am thinking. Is this an effort from an underconfident tagger to overcompensate? I've seen lots of graffiti at the school but this was worthy of remark. I called the main office and Ms. Moreno answers the phone. I ask her if she knows about the graffiti on the T Building and she asks what it is. I tell her there is a 30 foot long blue penis on the wall and she says "WHAT did you SAY?" I repeat myself. Then she asks "Is this ****?" I acknowledge that it is and she says "Really?" and I tell her that there is certainly such an item on the wall. She laughs her ass off and says it's the first she's heard of it. I ask her to bring it to the attention of the powers that be and she say she will.
I'm not confident that the office personnel are taking action. My students are disturbed by such an image on the wall. I ask the security guy if he's seen it and he walks down to look and comes back and says "That's disturbing. My daughter goes to this school and I don't want her to see that." He gets on the radio. He's not as frank as I am and reports "disturbing" artwork on the wall.
There is other graffiti near by. "Texas Bomb Crew" has left a missive.
I talk to my young friend Mr. D. and he tells me that "bombing" doesn't mean explosives with regard to graffiti. It has to do with marking territory and overwriting others' territories. Sounds like a pissing contest to me.
It's a good day. It's a jewelry day. I love A days because I teach the same thing all day in the same room. My kids are doing beautiful work this year. I've put a lot of images up at http://www.artmetal.com/og/artmetal_nextgen
I'm so proud of them. They are pushing harder than I've had kids push for a number of years.
I love my new principal. He's a righteous dude. I don't know him well yet, but I can tell that he cares, I can tell that he's kind, I can tell that he wants to make things better than they are. I think he is one that is willing to raise hell to make things better. God love him.
I love the fact that when he gets on the announcements every morning that he says it is a wonderful day at Skyline. I love the fact that he has a positive focus. I love the fact that he seems to know Baba Ram Dass and wants us to "Be Here Now." I love it that when he closes the announcements that he says "This is Mr. Wright signing off. Peace Out" I LOVE IT.
Every day, I make the peace sign at my kids along with "Peace Out"
I feel for him. He's walked into a nest of snakes. We've got 1800 freshmen and some of them are the foulest children on the planet. They can't help it, the apple doesn't fall far from the tree. He is trying to lead by example and show them that there is a better way. He's walked into a wonderful school that has suffered urban decay. Skyline was the first magnet school in the US. The premise is amazing, but has not been supported. I admire him for shaking trees to try and make things better. He should be our superintendent. If he took his positive attitude to the entire district, things could be wonderful.
This week we had "tardy lockout." I saw my building Vice Principal being the strong spunky woman that she is. She is amazing. Our building rocks the house. We processed almost two hundred kids in about fifteen minutes. We all got out there to process the wrongdoers and we conquered and overcame their disobedience. Why are the students reluctant to follow basic rules? Why do they revile us for following them? I love and revere my building administrator. She is amazing. She does her job and she does it with enthusiasm. I admire her and appreciate her.
Wednesday morning, I wrote two discipline referrals before school even started. We are charged with shooing children toward class. I went out of my room to see six young ladies sitting right outside my room. I asked them to disburse and go to class. I went out to the porch and shooed off the loiterers. Most of the kids walked away but one angel turned to me and said "I don't have to do what you say." I told him "Wrong Answer" and as I'd written him a referral before I recognized him and wrote him another referral. I went back into the building and the same girls were still in the hallway. I asked them to go to class and one of them said "I'M DOING SOMETHING" What she was doing was buying candy from a classmate. I told her "Wrong Answer" I said that if she needed to buy candy from a classmate she should say "Miss, I'm buying candy for a fundraiser and I'll move on in a minute." I went back out to the porch and swept people along and went back into the building and and the same three girls were still in there. I walked up and said "Ladies, why are you being so silly? I've asked you to go to class." Miss Angel said "You are getting on my fucking nerves." I said "You lose" and I wrote a referral on her.
Why would a 9th grade child say that to a teacher?
When I was coming up, I would never curse a teacher.
Yesterday, I read an article in the paper http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=15766499
about a rapper in Dallas who wants to tell our children to pull their pants up. I've written previously on being tired of seeing butt.
Continued
I'll start with Monday. I got to school and walked in and surveyed the graffiti sprayed on the building over the weekend and was astonished to see a thirty foot long blue penis spray painted on the side of the Automotive building. (Monty said it was longer)
To be honest, I came in from another direction. I was standing in the walkway early on when another teacher came in and exclaimed about the graffiti. It's pretty normal around here, but someone else said something so I walked down to see it and by golly there was a hairy scrotum and a thirty (at least) foot long penis spray painted on the wall. (Another friend commented that it was circumcised)
Hmmm. That's special I am thinking. Is this an effort from an underconfident tagger to overcompensate? I've seen lots of graffiti at the school but this was worthy of remark. I called the main office and Ms. Moreno answers the phone. I ask her if she knows about the graffiti on the T Building and she asks what it is. I tell her there is a 30 foot long blue penis on the wall and she says "WHAT did you SAY?" I repeat myself. Then she asks "Is this ****?" I acknowledge that it is and she says "Really?" and I tell her that there is certainly such an item on the wall. She laughs her ass off and says it's the first she's heard of it. I ask her to bring it to the attention of the powers that be and she say she will.
I'm not confident that the office personnel are taking action. My students are disturbed by such an image on the wall. I ask the security guy if he's seen it and he walks down to look and comes back and says "That's disturbing. My daughter goes to this school and I don't want her to see that." He gets on the radio. He's not as frank as I am and reports "disturbing" artwork on the wall.
There is other graffiti near by. "Texas Bomb Crew" has left a missive.
I talk to my young friend Mr. D. and he tells me that "bombing" doesn't mean explosives with regard to graffiti. It has to do with marking territory and overwriting others' territories. Sounds like a pissing contest to me.
It's a good day. It's a jewelry day. I love A days because I teach the same thing all day in the same room. My kids are doing beautiful work this year. I've put a lot of images up at http://www.artmetal.com/og/artmetal_nextgen
I'm so proud of them. They are pushing harder than I've had kids push for a number of years.
I love my new principal. He's a righteous dude. I don't know him well yet, but I can tell that he cares, I can tell that he's kind, I can tell that he wants to make things better than they are. I think he is one that is willing to raise hell to make things better. God love him.
I love the fact that when he gets on the announcements every morning that he says it is a wonderful day at Skyline. I love the fact that he has a positive focus. I love the fact that he seems to know Baba Ram Dass and wants us to "Be Here Now." I love it that when he closes the announcements that he says "This is Mr. Wright signing off. Peace Out" I LOVE IT.
Every day, I make the peace sign at my kids along with "Peace Out"
I feel for him. He's walked into a nest of snakes. We've got 1800 freshmen and some of them are the foulest children on the planet. They can't help it, the apple doesn't fall far from the tree. He is trying to lead by example and show them that there is a better way. He's walked into a wonderful school that has suffered urban decay. Skyline was the first magnet school in the US. The premise is amazing, but has not been supported. I admire him for shaking trees to try and make things better. He should be our superintendent. If he took his positive attitude to the entire district, things could be wonderful.
This week we had "tardy lockout." I saw my building Vice Principal being the strong spunky woman that she is. She is amazing. Our building rocks the house. We processed almost two hundred kids in about fifteen minutes. We all got out there to process the wrongdoers and we conquered and overcame their disobedience. Why are the students reluctant to follow basic rules? Why do they revile us for following them? I love and revere my building administrator. She is amazing. She does her job and she does it with enthusiasm. I admire her and appreciate her.
Wednesday morning, I wrote two discipline referrals before school even started. We are charged with shooing children toward class. I went out of my room to see six young ladies sitting right outside my room. I asked them to disburse and go to class. I went out to the porch and shooed off the loiterers. Most of the kids walked away but one angel turned to me and said "I don't have to do what you say." I told him "Wrong Answer" and as I'd written him a referral before I recognized him and wrote him another referral. I went back into the building and the same girls were still in the hallway. I asked them to go to class and one of them said "I'M DOING SOMETHING" What she was doing was buying candy from a classmate. I told her "Wrong Answer" I said that if she needed to buy candy from a classmate she should say "Miss, I'm buying candy for a fundraiser and I'll move on in a minute." I went back out to the porch and swept people along and went back into the building and and the same three girls were still in there. I walked up and said "Ladies, why are you being so silly? I've asked you to go to class." Miss Angel said "You are getting on my fucking nerves." I said "You lose" and I wrote a referral on her.
Why would a 9th grade child say that to a teacher?
When I was coming up, I would never curse a teacher.
Yesterday, I read an article in the paper http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=15766499
about a rapper in Dallas who wants to tell our children to pull their pants up. I've written previously on being tired of seeing butt.
Continued
Tuesday, October 23, 2007
Grumpy
I fell week before last up a flight of concrete stairs. I'm too old for this. My body hurts.
I went back and looked later because I couldn't imagine how I missed that first step and I
saw that there are pieces of rebar sticking out of the bottom step. I feel sure that is what I caught my foot on before I indecorously bit the dust.
Since then, I look at the steps with great trepidation. I feel suspicious.
What did I see today? I saw lots of butt. I'm so sick of saggers. I have to tell teenaged boys
to get dressed before they come into my building. I do not recall ever being told to pull my
pants up.
One kid had a really cool belt buckle that incorporated a flask. Uh, sorry, flasks are
not appropriate at school whether carried by students or faculty.
This year is odd. I've been cussed out about fifteen times so far. There are no consequences
for such bad behavior. I would have never thought to say even "damn" in front of a teacher
and I have to field "f bombs" in the hallways almost every day.
Yesterday I started teaching one point perspective in my lonely only art one class. I told
one angel that she needed to use her ruler and she screeches "I DID." I suggested that
she modulate her tone.
She looked at me and said "I talk how I talk" and I told her that she could not talk to me in
such a disrespectful manner in my classroom and she screeched some more.
I pointed her toward the hallway for further discussion and she was louder telling me that I
was "tripping" and that she hadn't said anything bad to me.
I tried to explain to this angel that her tone was unacceptable and disrespectful and she let
me know that she "talked how she talked"
I saw a woman of her same ethnicity walking down the hall. I thought she was another
teacher and thought perhaps she could get the message across to this child. The lady
was very nice and she asked the angel what the issue was and angel screeched "This
lady be tripping." I explained that angel's tone came across in a disrespectful manner
and the lady explained to her about respect and how tone could be seen as antagonistic
and rude. The child rolled her eyes and looked at the ceiling. The nice lady explained that
she was a parent from our school and that she tried to teach her children that being
respectful was important. Angel's body language is disrespectful.
I didn't realize that the nice lady was a parent. I thought she was a teacher, but she
said everything to this angel that I wanted her to. I shooed my angel back into the
classroom and the mom looked at me, looked at the departing student and then shook her
head. I thanked her for her input.
It's sad. In the olden ancient days, students didn't talk back to teachers. They sure didn't
cuss them out. There used to be consequences.
Not anymore. Some years ago, they took away the paddle. I recall at O'Banion Junior High
that an assistant principal would show up in the doorway and call someone out. There would
be the sound of three "whacks" on the offending backside. One could hear a pin drop the
length of the hallway.
. . . . . .
When I was finishing school I got a phone call from my son's principal. I was about to go
into finals in Denton some fifty miles away. The principal told me that my son had flooded
the downstairs boys' bathroom and that she had to suspend him since he refused paddling.
I needed to come pick him up.
I got up to the school and she told me that he was waiting in the auditorium. I asked her if
he got paddled if he could go back to class and she said yes. I told her "I'll hold him while
you whack him."
He got whacked and was sent back to class. He didn't get five days off to watch TV
unattended while I was finishing school some fifty miles away.
Why would we reward our children for bad behavior? I figured getting whacked on the
fanny was appropriate. He got what he deserved and had to go back to class. He did not
want to repeat the offending behavior.
I think if the sound of the paddle resounding through the hallway was heard today it would
be a deterrent.
At some point, parents started to sue for paddling. That's why it doesn't happen anymore.
I do not believe in abusing children. I do believe in setting limits for them. I teach at the
largest high school in Texas. Many of our children do not have good home training.
If the parents don't want the schools to paddle their children for foul behavior, then they
need to do a better job at home.
Teachers are not paid enough to be reviled with bad language and disrespect.
I'm tired of seeing boys' underwear. The rule is that they wear their pants at the waist
with their shirts tucked in. I could care less if they wear their shirts like dresses (I do NOT
want to see their underwear) but I can't enforce the rules if I don't get the support of
my administration. Admin picks on teachers for not preaching the rules, but they don't back
us up when we do.
It's a Catch 22.
I try to do the job I am assigned. I'm just annoyed that the folks that dictate to me don't
do theirs. Damn.
I went back and looked later because I couldn't imagine how I missed that first step and I
saw that there are pieces of rebar sticking out of the bottom step. I feel sure that is what I caught my foot on before I indecorously bit the dust.
Since then, I look at the steps with great trepidation. I feel suspicious.
What did I see today? I saw lots of butt. I'm so sick of saggers. I have to tell teenaged boys
to get dressed before they come into my building. I do not recall ever being told to pull my
pants up.
One kid had a really cool belt buckle that incorporated a flask. Uh, sorry, flasks are
not appropriate at school whether carried by students or faculty.
This year is odd. I've been cussed out about fifteen times so far. There are no consequences
for such bad behavior. I would have never thought to say even "damn" in front of a teacher
and I have to field "f bombs" in the hallways almost every day.
Yesterday I started teaching one point perspective in my lonely only art one class. I told
one angel that she needed to use her ruler and she screeches "I DID." I suggested that
she modulate her tone.
She looked at me and said "I talk how I talk" and I told her that she could not talk to me in
such a disrespectful manner in my classroom and she screeched some more.
I pointed her toward the hallway for further discussion and she was louder telling me that I
was "tripping" and that she hadn't said anything bad to me.
I tried to explain to this angel that her tone was unacceptable and disrespectful and she let
me know that she "talked how she talked"
I saw a woman of her same ethnicity walking down the hall. I thought she was another
teacher and thought perhaps she could get the message across to this child. The lady
was very nice and she asked the angel what the issue was and angel screeched "This
lady be tripping." I explained that angel's tone came across in a disrespectful manner
and the lady explained to her about respect and how tone could be seen as antagonistic
and rude. The child rolled her eyes and looked at the ceiling. The nice lady explained that
she was a parent from our school and that she tried to teach her children that being
respectful was important. Angel's body language is disrespectful.
I didn't realize that the nice lady was a parent. I thought she was a teacher, but she
said everything to this angel that I wanted her to. I shooed my angel back into the
classroom and the mom looked at me, looked at the departing student and then shook her
head. I thanked her for her input.
It's sad. In the olden ancient days, students didn't talk back to teachers. They sure didn't
cuss them out. There used to be consequences.
Not anymore. Some years ago, they took away the paddle. I recall at O'Banion Junior High
that an assistant principal would show up in the doorway and call someone out. There would
be the sound of three "whacks" on the offending backside. One could hear a pin drop the
length of the hallway.
. . . . . .
When I was finishing school I got a phone call from my son's principal. I was about to go
into finals in Denton some fifty miles away. The principal told me that my son had flooded
the downstairs boys' bathroom and that she had to suspend him since he refused paddling.
I needed to come pick him up.
I got up to the school and she told me that he was waiting in the auditorium. I asked her if
he got paddled if he could go back to class and she said yes. I told her "I'll hold him while
you whack him."
He got whacked and was sent back to class. He didn't get five days off to watch TV
unattended while I was finishing school some fifty miles away.
Why would we reward our children for bad behavior? I figured getting whacked on the
fanny was appropriate. He got what he deserved and had to go back to class. He did not
want to repeat the offending behavior.
I think if the sound of the paddle resounding through the hallway was heard today it would
be a deterrent.
At some point, parents started to sue for paddling. That's why it doesn't happen anymore.
I do not believe in abusing children. I do believe in setting limits for them. I teach at the
largest high school in Texas. Many of our children do not have good home training.
If the parents don't want the schools to paddle their children for foul behavior, then they
need to do a better job at home.
Teachers are not paid enough to be reviled with bad language and disrespect.
I'm tired of seeing boys' underwear. The rule is that they wear their pants at the waist
with their shirts tucked in. I could care less if they wear their shirts like dresses (I do NOT
want to see their underwear) but I can't enforce the rules if I don't get the support of
my administration. Admin picks on teachers for not preaching the rules, but they don't back
us up when we do.
It's a Catch 22.
I try to do the job I am assigned. I'm just annoyed that the folks that dictate to me don't
do theirs. Damn.
Thursday, October 18, 2007
I've Created a Monster
I've created a monster.
I made this senior boy a deal. He's in my art one class, but he was in the architecture cluster and has learned all the skills that are taught in this class. He's cutting metal and is liking it. He's got a good eye for detail.
Well, here's the deal. All the freshmen see Lennyn sitting over in the corner doing something cool. They KNOW it's cool what he's doing.
Alex, who is beautiful and bright and talented finishes the current project a day early. He's done a stunning job. Usually if a kid gets through early (Alex always gets through early) I ask them to work in their composition book (cheap version of sketchbook) or on their portfolio (big envelope to keep their work in). He's been doing that and he's real sweet about it, but I can see his eyes cutting over to the cool senior guy in the corner. He says, "so what do I do now?" I don't believe in a single idle moment in my class. Ever. I tell him he can work in his composition book or on his portfolio (eyes flick to the corner)((am I going to regret this?)) or he can cut metal.
VERY Quickly he says "I want to cut metal"
(I'm really surprised---NOT)
I give him the assignment. Design a pierced medallion that incorporates positive and negative space. We haven't even got to positive and negative space yet. This kid is 14. He comes back in ten minutes with a design better than what a lot of the jewelry kids are doing. I set him up next to Lennyn with a bench pin and c-clamp and a sawframe and a piece of copper. This kid is a freaking wizard. He cuts the whole thing out (angles and all) and then he gets worried about the interior space. I show him about drilling holes and he's real fast on the uptake. He gets done in about 20 minutes overall. I show him about filing the edges. He gets all done but for the polishing. About 3 days ahead of what the kids in the jewelry class have done.
Well, then, Saul comes up. He works like a Trojan all the time. He's not as gifted as many but he works real hard. He helped with our door decoration and took on extra work to help. Saul has finished his project, it's not as pretty, but he worked really hard on it. He's leaning on the corner table watching Lennyn and Alex. "What do I do now miss?" he says. I ask him if he wants to cut metal and he's all over it. I tell him he has to have a design. He comes back in five minutes ready to roll. It's the shape of the state of Texas inside a circle. That's okay. I'm not going to worry these kids about design at all. They're freaking art beginners.
Lennyn gets through cutting his out, so I move him down to start filing. I turn around and Alex is showing Saul how to put the sawblade on and check the tension.
Kimberly comes up. I've had her go back and "fix" her project about five times. She finally gets a nice result. She says, "what do I do now, Miss?" She looks at the boys in the corner.
Anyway, I end up with about half the class done with the project ON TIME and well. I tell them that I can't really turn the class into a jewelry class, BUT, IF they finish their projects in a timely manner and have time left over that I may let them work on some jewelry projects.
30 kids said they want to take jewelry next year. 10 said they wanted to just switch over now. I told them that they had to pass art one first.
I set up three "sawing" stations. I put out minimal resources. Alex cut all of his out and gave me back the intact sawblade. I think at least six or seven kids got to cut and we maybe went through 9 sawblades. Holy cow.
I told Lennyn that if he was heavy handed that he was going to have to buy his own sawblades. He said "Where do I get them?"
Saul asked "Where can I get a sawframe and blades?" I told him where, he wrote it down and THEN he asked "How can I turn the metal different colors?" I asked him what color and he said "purple" and I told him I'd have to look up a recipe and he said "Miss, I've got a computer, what do I google?" I told him to google "copper patinas" and he said "No prob" THEN he came back and said, "If I want to color brass, do I look up brass patinas?"
HOLY COW. I'm going to be peeling these kids off the wall all year. I think I have some major leverage. I told them that if they hurried through assignments and did poor jobs that I'd make them do them over (which would take longer). I think I've found a really good carrot to dangle and I think I can make them be really good to keep the privilege.
I've never done any real jewelry stuff with art one. It's NOT part of the curriculum, but this project we're working on. . . It usually takes 5 class days for everyone to finish. Today was day 2 and half the class finished.
I'm starting one point perspective on Monday. I'll give them two days. You should have seen those kids laying lead down today (drawing) I've NEVER had an art one class go into such overdrive.
That's the terribly sweet part.
The bittersweet still comes. I often have flashes of brilliance that come out of intense personal emotion. I have been in such a state. My young cousin, Charles Edward Anderson age 27, chose to end his own life Tuesday afternoon. I've spent my time at home on the phone talking to distraught relations around the country. Chuck's mother is the one whose stepfather was killed last year by that crazy guy who went into the gay bar in MA with a hatchet. I found out about 11pm last night that he'd already been cremated and that the services were at 11 this morning.
Like I can even get there. . .
Like I can even get there. . .
I couldn't. I just couldn't take it. I fell at work last Thursday banging the crap out of my knee (which is many pretty colors) and snapping my neck (which is swollen) and since then have picked up the unspecified leaping Chinese crud going around the school and I feel like SHIT.
I'm running on adrenaline. I really shouldn't have gone today, but I did, and I created a monster. I'm alternating between chills and hot flashes (no comments on my age please) I've blown my nose about 200 times today. The only reason I went was because I had Book Club after school at Chili's. I'm the one charged with organizing the darn thing and this was our first meeting to talk about a book we'd all read (Kite Runner) and I dragged my ass up to school because of it. I also dragged my ass to Chili's for two frozen margaritas while we talked about the book.
I feel like crap, I'm mourning a personal tragedy, but TODAY was a good day. I saw something beautiful happen with young artists. I think this monster is going to be wonderful.
Sunday, October 07, 2007
Mustang Sally
I'm at the end of the day, looking backwards.
I just watched Hidalgo with Viggo Mortensen. I want a mustang. I love horses, I grew up around them and I want just one mustang.
I last rode a horse about a year ago. My friend Mandy lives out in Poetry, TX and she has horses and was kind enough to let me ride one of hers. I'm old and out of practice, but mounting a horse is so easy for me and seems like second nature to me. The same day my son rode the same horse. It was unique for him because it was his first time on horseback.
I got a pony sometime around my 4th birthday. His name was Billy and he was a mean sumbitch. The Cowan boys from down the bayou were supposed to break him so I could ride him. I don't remember riding Billy much (did I mention that he was a mean sumbitch?) I do remember being on him and him taking off down the levee and my aunt and grandmother screaming at me to jump off. I do remember him sulking about the yard being a nasty pony.
I remember my 4th birthday. I'm almost fifty and I have clear mental images of birthday number 4. Tina and Dick Smotherman came down to Ashland Plantation. I was living there with my mother's parents. I think my mom was going to school in Memphis and my father had died the previous September. I don't know the particulars of why Tina and Dick came but I was comfortable with them and so happy to see them. I actually thought Tina was my grandmother and was sorely disappointed at a future time to learn that she wasn't. I still call her grandma Tina.
Tina and Dick took me fishing on the bayou. I can see it as clear as I can see my computer screen. I think we had bamboo poles and I know that I was astonished to catch some small fish (I think a perch) I remember that our vehicle was parked on the levee and that we had some issue with a flat tire. My grandfather showed up and rescued us. I cannot express the complexity of emotion about how I felt about my grandfather. I am in tears now as I write this because I loved him so much. The flat tire got fixed and we got home and my fish got fried and I was celebrated for catching my own dinner on my 4th birthday.
I remember Ashland Plantation. That's where I lived at that time. It was an interesting cinderblock house.
There were three tremendous pecan trees in the front. I remember gathering pecans. My grandmother's uncle lived with us. Joseph Stillwell. He was bedridden with arthritis. He was a crusty old gentleman and I loved him dearly. I think that he was in some part responsible for the swing set that appeared in the yard to entertain me. I also remember having a bow and arrow set and shooting at Uncle Joe's headboard (which did not thrill him)
Around this time, my mother's younger sister was in high school. Somehow she gained the nickname "Stormy." I thought it was her name because I called her Aunt Stormy. I was told that she was called Stormy because of her temper. I slept with her and was grateful to have someone next to me. I'm even more grateful because it would have to be kind of geeky to have to sleep with your tiny niece. She had a record player and there was a record collection called " Sounds of the Sixties" We would go to sleep listening to Baby Elephant Walk and Alley Cat. She had some kind of hair dryer and would leave it on for the whir. I still like the sound of such things to help me sleep.
I love my aunt so much, she was my hero. She was so strong and vibrant. I was a small child and I thought she hung the moon. She was a barrel racer and she got a new horse. Little Red. I have a recollection of there being a Big Red and a Little Red. I recall some fracas because a horse got stuck in the cattle guard in the middle of the night. My grandfather was furious. I think he was willing to shoot something. I think Big Red was the offender.
I have a recollection of asking my aunt if I could ride her new pony and she was nice and told me I could ride it as soon as I was big enough to get on it. I don't know if it was the next day but it was very soon that I coaxed her horse up next to the fence and climbed on and was riding it through the pastures. I don't think that's what she meant about riding it as soon as I was big enough. I recall getting stuck on top of the horse out in a cow pasture. The horse was willing.
I feel bad that my children didn't get to ride like I did. I truly didn't realize it until they were almost all grown. I love horses. They smell nice.
How I wish I lived where I could have a horse. I'm envious of my friend Mandy and her country home with horses. I regret that my own children never learned how to ride.
I just want a mustang. A fiery spunky native horse.
I love the newer cell phones. It's cool that one can assign ringtones for individual people. The ringtone for my son is Mustang Sally. It's only right.
I just watched Hidalgo with Viggo Mortensen. I want a mustang. I love horses, I grew up around them and I want just one mustang.
I last rode a horse about a year ago. My friend Mandy lives out in Poetry, TX and she has horses and was kind enough to let me ride one of hers. I'm old and out of practice, but mounting a horse is so easy for me and seems like second nature to me. The same day my son rode the same horse. It was unique for him because it was his first time on horseback.
I got a pony sometime around my 4th birthday. His name was Billy and he was a mean sumbitch. The Cowan boys from down the bayou were supposed to break him so I could ride him. I don't remember riding Billy much (did I mention that he was a mean sumbitch?) I do remember being on him and him taking off down the levee and my aunt and grandmother screaming at me to jump off. I do remember him sulking about the yard being a nasty pony.
I remember my 4th birthday. I'm almost fifty and I have clear mental images of birthday number 4. Tina and Dick Smotherman came down to Ashland Plantation. I was living there with my mother's parents. I think my mom was going to school in Memphis and my father had died the previous September. I don't know the particulars of why Tina and Dick came but I was comfortable with them and so happy to see them. I actually thought Tina was my grandmother and was sorely disappointed at a future time to learn that she wasn't. I still call her grandma Tina.
Tina and Dick took me fishing on the bayou. I can see it as clear as I can see my computer screen. I think we had bamboo poles and I know that I was astonished to catch some small fish (I think a perch) I remember that our vehicle was parked on the levee and that we had some issue with a flat tire. My grandfather showed up and rescued us. I cannot express the complexity of emotion about how I felt about my grandfather. I am in tears now as I write this because I loved him so much. The flat tire got fixed and we got home and my fish got fried and I was celebrated for catching my own dinner on my 4th birthday.
I remember Ashland Plantation. That's where I lived at that time. It was an interesting cinderblock house.
There were three tremendous pecan trees in the front. I remember gathering pecans. My grandmother's uncle lived with us. Joseph Stillwell. He was bedridden with arthritis. He was a crusty old gentleman and I loved him dearly. I think that he was in some part responsible for the swing set that appeared in the yard to entertain me. I also remember having a bow and arrow set and shooting at Uncle Joe's headboard (which did not thrill him)
Around this time, my mother's younger sister was in high school. Somehow she gained the nickname "Stormy." I thought it was her name because I called her Aunt Stormy. I was told that she was called Stormy because of her temper. I slept with her and was grateful to have someone next to me. I'm even more grateful because it would have to be kind of geeky to have to sleep with your tiny niece. She had a record player and there was a record collection called " Sounds of the Sixties" We would go to sleep listening to Baby Elephant Walk and Alley Cat. She had some kind of hair dryer and would leave it on for the whir. I still like the sound of such things to help me sleep.
I love my aunt so much, she was my hero. She was so strong and vibrant. I was a small child and I thought she hung the moon. She was a barrel racer and she got a new horse. Little Red. I have a recollection of there being a Big Red and a Little Red. I recall some fracas because a horse got stuck in the cattle guard in the middle of the night. My grandfather was furious. I think he was willing to shoot something. I think Big Red was the offender.
I have a recollection of asking my aunt if I could ride her new pony and she was nice and told me I could ride it as soon as I was big enough to get on it. I don't know if it was the next day but it was very soon that I coaxed her horse up next to the fence and climbed on and was riding it through the pastures. I don't think that's what she meant about riding it as soon as I was big enough. I recall getting stuck on top of the horse out in a cow pasture. The horse was willing.
I feel bad that my children didn't get to ride like I did. I truly didn't realize it until they were almost all grown. I love horses. They smell nice.
How I wish I lived where I could have a horse. I'm envious of my friend Mandy and her country home with horses. I regret that my own children never learned how to ride.
I just want a mustang. A fiery spunky native horse.
I love the newer cell phones. It's cool that one can assign ringtones for individual people. The ringtone for my son is Mustang Sally. It's only right.
Wednesday, October 03, 2007
Waiting for Hilda
I was practically soaked by the time I got to school. We had a deluge. Every morning I go through McDonald's and I get the same thing. A breakfast burrito and a large coffee. I'm there almost the same time every day. Mark took me today because he had to go get a new tire for the car and get the oil changed. We sat in line and I realized it was Wednesday. I glanced over to the Waffle House parking lot, and sure enough George was there waiting.
There is this older gentleman. He meets a lady at Waffle House most Wednesdays. I guess I noticed him last year while we went through the drive up line at McDonald's. He's got a champagne colored truck and he usually gets there early. I don't know his name, but I call him George. Most of the time if the weather is nice, George is there waiting, leaning up against his truck. Sometimes, if it is raining, he's gone under the overhang of the back of the Waffle House. He always seems patient.
I know he meets a lady because one time I was running late and I saw his truck and I saw a sedan next to it, so I made a point to look through the Waffle House window and sure enough, there was George opposite a white haired lady. I decided to call her Hilda.
I think Hilda makes him wait a lot. Either that, or he is so anxious that he gets there early so he can greet her. I bet she'd have a heart attack if he wasn't waiting on her.
Today, the rain was really coming down. I could see him sitting in his truck.
I wonder, is he just trying to wait out the monsoon, or is he waiting with an umbrella ready at hand, so that he can be the gallant knight and shining armor to shield his lady from the rain? I only just recently noticed that he was there on Wednesdays. I'll have to watch to see if he is there other days.
He's so cute as he leans so nonchalantly against his truck. His body language is a little tense, as if he hopes he's not stood up. He looks pretty calm, but there is an intensity that reveals his impatience for his lady to arrive.
I figure that George is about seventy. Hilda (through the window) looks at least that old. I see them and I wonder what their stories are and if they are both widowers looking for companionship, or if they were old flames who have rediscovered each other.
I have a wicked desire to follow them into the Waffle House and wrangle a nearby seat and eavesdrop.
Maybe I'm better off imagining what their story is.
There is this older gentleman. He meets a lady at Waffle House most Wednesdays. I guess I noticed him last year while we went through the drive up line at McDonald's. He's got a champagne colored truck and he usually gets there early. I don't know his name, but I call him George. Most of the time if the weather is nice, George is there waiting, leaning up against his truck. Sometimes, if it is raining, he's gone under the overhang of the back of the Waffle House. He always seems patient.
I know he meets a lady because one time I was running late and I saw his truck and I saw a sedan next to it, so I made a point to look through the Waffle House window and sure enough, there was George opposite a white haired lady. I decided to call her Hilda.
I think Hilda makes him wait a lot. Either that, or he is so anxious that he gets there early so he can greet her. I bet she'd have a heart attack if he wasn't waiting on her.
Today, the rain was really coming down. I could see him sitting in his truck.
I wonder, is he just trying to wait out the monsoon, or is he waiting with an umbrella ready at hand, so that he can be the gallant knight and shining armor to shield his lady from the rain? I only just recently noticed that he was there on Wednesdays. I'll have to watch to see if he is there other days.
He's so cute as he leans so nonchalantly against his truck. His body language is a little tense, as if he hopes he's not stood up. He looks pretty calm, but there is an intensity that reveals his impatience for his lady to arrive.
I figure that George is about seventy. Hilda (through the window) looks at least that old. I see them and I wonder what their stories are and if they are both widowers looking for companionship, or if they were old flames who have rediscovered each other.
I have a wicked desire to follow them into the Waffle House and wrangle a nearby seat and eavesdrop.
Maybe I'm better off imagining what their story is.
Monday, October 01, 2007
The Wheels go Round and Round
If at all possible, I don't even get dressed on Sunday. I stay in my pj's and lurk about.
Today I was wrested out of my somnambulent state and rode on the back of the scooter with Mark up to the parking lot at school. I rode around the parking lot on the scooter and tried not to kill myself.
I had a crazy time. Someone dropped a shiny bracelet in the parking lot and I wanted to pick it up. ooooo shiny. I rode around. I was so nervous. I got to where I could mostly make the scooter go where I wanted to go. I was kind of afraid to turn very much.
I shouldn't have gone around in circles so much. After I'd had enough, I suggested that we go over to Monty's and show him the scooter but then I got motion sick. We had to pull over on Everglade while I made up my mind whether I would puke or not. I didn't and I got a little more unqueasy. Monty wasn't home, but we saw all his fun sculpture things in the entry to the house. We saw a calico cat rolling on his driveway. We saw a tiny black cat in the bushes at Mae's house.
We stopped by Exxon on the way home to gas the scooter up. It was a buck sixty to fill it up (WEEEHA). While Mark went inside Exxon, I stayed out by the scooter wearing my helmet with flames on it. I saw some woman throw trash out of the door of her car before she got out to gas up. I wanted to go up to her and ask her if the world was her trash can. She just pulled nasty stuff out and threw it on the ground. I was offended. I got out of "teacher mode" and didn't say anything but I thought evil thoughts at her.
We got home and I was grateful to have a beer. I watched Star Trek IV The Voyage Home and quoted most of the dialogue along with the movie. I guess I'm a geek that way.
Today I was wrested out of my somnambulent state and rode on the back of the scooter with Mark up to the parking lot at school. I rode around the parking lot on the scooter and tried not to kill myself.
I had a crazy time. Someone dropped a shiny bracelet in the parking lot and I wanted to pick it up. ooooo shiny. I rode around. I was so nervous. I got to where I could mostly make the scooter go where I wanted to go. I was kind of afraid to turn very much.
I shouldn't have gone around in circles so much. After I'd had enough, I suggested that we go over to Monty's and show him the scooter but then I got motion sick. We had to pull over on Everglade while I made up my mind whether I would puke or not. I didn't and I got a little more unqueasy. Monty wasn't home, but we saw all his fun sculpture things in the entry to the house. We saw a calico cat rolling on his driveway. We saw a tiny black cat in the bushes at Mae's house.
We stopped by Exxon on the way home to gas the scooter up. It was a buck sixty to fill it up (WEEEHA). While Mark went inside Exxon, I stayed out by the scooter wearing my helmet with flames on it. I saw some woman throw trash out of the door of her car before she got out to gas up. I wanted to go up to her and ask her if the world was her trash can. She just pulled nasty stuff out and threw it on the ground. I was offended. I got out of "teacher mode" and didn't say anything but I thought evil thoughts at her.
We got home and I was grateful to have a beer. I watched Star Trek IV The Voyage Home and quoted most of the dialogue along with the movie. I guess I'm a geek that way.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
