That's a Bad-Ass Bumblebee...

I went to see the Trans-Siberian Orchestra on Sunday. The concert was amazing. I have been a fan of theirs for years, and I went to go see them a couple of years back. This past concert was the best concert that I've ever been to by any artist, period.

What really made the experience for me was seeing Anna Phoebe perform along with TSO. I had never ever heard of her until that day. She just brought so much energy, so much... life, to an already energetic group of performers. She is a violinist from England who does the same kind of music that TSO does (classical music done the hard rock way and vice versa; she does a great Led Zeppelin cover on her website. Or, rather, she did. But I guess she changed the website around within the past couple of days http://annaphoebe.com/). I love TSO, so I know classical music rocks... but I never knew the violin could rock THAT hard.

Especially a pink one! I do have a secret love of pink in certain circumstances, but usually not in professional or athletic environments. But, oh dear goddess, that pink violin was AMAZING.

The piece that really got me, as you can see from the title, was the "Flight of the Bumblebee". I really don't have the musical knowledge to be able to articulate just how amazing it was. All I can say is "Holy Crap...". Especially considering that was TSO's second show of the day. They just... wow. The energy they put into their music is simply astounding. It's everything you loved about 80's metal hair bands, 90's grunge, Mo-Town and classical music all in one toe-tapping, heart-pounding, fire-breathing extravaganza.

Anna Phoebe is my new hero.

Thoughts? Body Image

Read this article in the NYT Today. Not sure how I feel about it. ”

This quote bothered me in particular:

“We can no longer accept that a child can go through life being severely disfigured, and accept that as their lot,” said Dr. Waner, the co-director of the Vascular Birthmark Institute. “Something needs to be done, and I believe that every child has the right to look normal.

While I do believe that you have the right to alter your appearance to the degree you see fit to be comfortable with yourself, I can't help but feel that there's something wrong when you feel compelled to do it simply to be regarded as "normal" by the rest of society. What happened to the idea of embracing diversity and difference and inner beauty, etc.? I don't think that having what basically amounts to an oversize mole on your face counts as severely disfigured. I mean, yeah, it may not be something you see everyday, but it's not like she has an arm growing out of her forehead.

They're treating her like she's some sort of Quasimodo figure... she's perfectly healthy otherwise. Now they've given her what amounts to a sort of plastic surgery before she's old enough to make a decision for herself that this is something that bothers her. She can't even TALK yet.

Perhaps I would feel differently if it were my child... but I sort of feel like this is a bit of an extreme example. We're not supposed to, as a society, judge people THIS harshly on their appearance. I know we live in a superficial, materialistic society... but, to have it be a major crisis that your otherwise healthy daughter has an unusual birthmark... I mean. Come on! Bangs, hello?! I kid. Sort of...

Being someone who has never fit the definition of a "normal" appearance because of her weight, I can tell you right now, it's the worst thing you can do to a kid to make her feel not normal because of a factor she can't control. Same thing for boys, but I would argue it's especially important for girls in our particular society. Realistically, women are still judged primarily by their appearance. Everything in our society is making them completely self-conscious. If you make them feel like a freak because they don't look "perfectly normal", make them feel like not being beautiful is some sort of disease (rather than actually being pretty much the normal state of affairs), then you're opening the door for other types of conditions and diseases which are far more damaging and even deadly.

If a girl is self-conscious all the time she'll develop a negative body image which leads to low self-esteem. Women (and men...) with low self-esteem are more susceptible to peer pressure, to developing eating disorders, to having drug and alcohol problems, engaging in risky sexual practices, and just doing stupid, dangerous stuff in general all for the sake of a little self-esteem boost.

Rather than running around pulling their hair out, trying to find a doctor who will "cure" their child of her "severe disfigurement", why not shower that kid with love and make her believe she's beautiful. People are mean, nasty, and cruel to one another. The best way to build a strong, beautiful, fit person who can survive and prosper in this society is to raise a child who believes in him/herself and can RISE ABOVE all the negativity. If you let a child start forming opinions of herself based on how others see her, then she's never going to be a strong, healthy individual. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, right? Let her evaluate herself through her OWN eyes. Not the eyes of some ridiculous standard that our society is created.

Granted, later in the article they talk about some serious disfigurements and disabilities that would make it very difficult to have a good quality of life, like the boy with the overly enlarged tongue. While it's much more difficult to change a society than an individual, does it strike anyone else that the only person who needed a big change in that situation is the little boy who called him ugly? Meanness is a nastiest disfigurement than ugliness as far as I'm concerned.

Even then, I feel like the issue is not that the boy with the over-sized tongue may LOOK different than other kids. I feel that the lack of ability to communicate with his peers is far more damaging than looking unique.

Again, there is the argument that given our society, being physically different is a disability. I really, strongly, don't believe that is so. We should be teaching our children not to stare at people in public or judge them by their outward appearances. Not only is that emotionally devastating to people who are different, it's just plain RUDE. Who teaches their children that it is okay to do that? Honestly.

Like I said, if it were my kid, maybe I'd be feeling differently. However, at this point in time I feel like you're not doing a kid any favors by making them feel inadequate by making them feel as if they HAVE to change. Maybe if a kid elects to have surgery that's one thing.... but I'd be much more worried about the hate-mongering little snipe who walks up to someone and calls him ugly than a child with a deformity or disfigurement. That's REALLY ugly...

Frustrated

I didn't understand how frustrating teaching can be until I started working here. When the kids don't understand something, it really gets to me. Every single kid in my math class failed their last test - and I feel like it's my fault. Especially since the other section got all A's and B's. Granted, I have the "slower" section, but still! I spent the last week re-doing the entire chapter and they all got pretty good grades on their last quiz. But then, their test grades were B, C, D, and F. The kid who got an F is someone who usually scores very well on the tests. I'm not quite sure what to do at this point. They keep mixing up prime and composite numbers and factors and multiples. They just don't seem to get it. What did I do wrong? I mean, I feel pretty good that one kid went from an F to a B... but what about the others? I wish I knew what I did wrong... what I could do to make them understand it better.

It's the same in English. The kids are having trouble understanding the basic parts of speech at this point. One kid got an F on our last quiz, which was basic nouns. Underline the noun, capitalize all the proper nouns. Some kids underlined verbs. A lot of kids didn't know which ones to capitalize... and this kid in particular didn't know the difference between an adjective and a noun. I've been ripping my hair out trying to figure out what I'm doing wrong. Am I really that bad a teacher?

Some kids are progressing excellently. I can already see how far they've come. But some of the others... I'm running out of ideas of different ways I can teach the material. I'm having a hard time getting through. I just feel like shit every time someone gets a bad grade.

The kids seem to like and respect me well enough. I KNOW I'm doing okay in coaching. The kids had a great soccer season and I'm actually having a lot of fun teaching them basketball. I just wish I had the same confidence in the classroom. At the end of the day, if they can't strike a ball perfectly or score a goal, it doesn't matter. It only matters that they have fun and they try. In the classroom it's different. If they can't tell the difference between a prime and composite number, or if they don't have a grasp of the basic parts of speech... well, that's just not good. That stuff is important.

I dunno. It's just been a bad week I guess. I guess I have to learn to not take this stuff so personally... but I really get upset when they don't do well. I feel like it's my fault.

Guess Who's Back

Sorry it's been so long. Work is absolutely crazy and I've frankly been debating whether it is a smart idea to keep this up. It wouldn't be ethical to write about what the kids do for the most part (maybe some of the REALLY funny stories will be okay) and since school basically takes over my life... well, you can see the problem.

So, I've decided, I'm going to try to NOT write about school. I tend to rant, and I can foresee certain topics coming back to bite me sometime in the future... so best to just avoid anything like that. I'm going to limit this blog to (I hope) funny things that happen to me or between my coworkers and me away from school. Since I work about 12-15 hours a day, that might be a little difficult, so apologies far in advance if the posts tend to be sporatic from now on.

The primary reason why I decided to start this up again, however, has to do with what happened today. It was so epically stupid that I simply not allow it to go by undocumented.

So, last week P reimbursed me for buying some soccer equipment and goodies for a tournament we had at school. I went to go cash the check last Tuesday (which was a VERY bad day - two kids were expelled and I was sort of a wreck) and ended up losing it somehow. I still don't quite know what happened, but given the state I was in, what most likely occurred is that I placed the check on the counter with the intention of endorsing it, got on my cellphone, completely forgot I had already taken the check out of my pocket, then panicked when I found it was no longer in my pocket, and went running through the streets of Hartford looking for it. Knowing me, that could very well have been the case.

I ran back to school and told P to put a stop payment on it and asked if he could cut me a new one. He said he had to talk to the accountants first. The next day, he tells me that the bank called and they have my check. I just have to go pick it up. Yay!

I didn't get a chance to go to the bank last week, so I had to wait until today. So, I go to the one I went to last time. Wait in line, yadda yadda yadda. They have NO clue what I'm talking about. Thinking that they probably shredded the check and just called to let him know that they found it, I went back to the school to make sure. P gave me a weird look and said "No, they definitely have it. Which one did you go to?"

"The one right across the street."

"Oh! Well, that's it. It's the one downtown. Talk to S- Green." (I'm not putting the full name in, because, frankly I forgot it... me forgetting the full name is sort of important...)

So, I go downtown to see Mr./Ms. Green. I find a Mr. Green. Again, they have no idea what I'm talking about.

"But, I was told to go to the Main bank!"

"Ohhh, you want our HEADQUARTERS. Not the one on Main Street."

Duh! Next!

"Um, there's no one by that name that works here. We did have two checks like that come in... but neither of them is yours.What account was it written from? Maybe we can check?"

Carp: "Oh, I think the account is actually with a different bank... Webster, I think."

"Well, there's a Webster right next door... maybe you should check there."

I walk in and am greeted by S. Green herself. Yeah...

Long story short, I went to three different Bank of Americas when the check was at Webster... which would make sense because that's where our account is. Wow. Yeah. I'm a complete idiot.

First Day of School

Yeah, so today was the big day. Everything I've been working for the last month (and technically the past four years). How was it? Eh. It started out pretty well. I couldn't tell who was more nervous, the boys or the teachers. They were scared, we were scared. It was a pretty even playing field. Here's a typical day:

7:00-7:30 am Students arrive
7:30 -8:00 am playtime in the gym/students clean the school (we don't have janitors, so the kids clean before school and the parents come in on weekends)
8:00-8:15 morning assembly (role call, and we say a prayer and have a word of the day. I didn't say anything and P didn't get mad at me, so I guess I'll be fine if I refrain from participating in the prayer part. I don't mind if it's a general one. But if they're a little too religious - any religion - I'm just not into it)
8:15-3:15 Classes
3:15-5:15 Sports
5:30-6:30 Kids go home for dinner (we're only a day school)
6:30-8:30 Evening study hall (which is not mandatory unless you have below a C average, but most kids come anyway.

Teachers have to be there from 7-9 basically. Yikes. Today was only a half day so the kids were dismissed at noon and there were no sports or evening study. I will still there 'til 5 doing stuff, but I've actually been there from about 8-8 for the past week, so it was kind of nice to get out early.

My first class was sort of rough. These kids have NEVER been in such a structured environment and most of them were confused. They just didn't get it. And I didn't have the heart to really crack down on them on the first day. Tomorrow, that will change. I sort of let them walk all over me today and I didn't like it. They were jumping out of their seats and talking out of turn and talking, talking, talking. But I don't really blame them. It's not entirely their fault. They're sort of used to chaos and it's hard to change years of bad habits in one half day of class. It was just sort of frustrating. They're good kids. And smart. Just not used to focusing. It'll take time and patience.

I must admit I'm a bit out of my element when it comes to getting them to calm down though. My personality is not entirely kid friendly... and I'm used to dealing with adults. So I have to develop a more creative (and G rated) vocabulary and method for getting them to settle down. Confidence isn't necessarily the issue for me... but authority is. M and I have to work a little harder to earn it simply because we're women. The 5th graders were much more well behaved for D and N; which is not to say they were perfect. But much better.

The 6th graders are awesome. Very attentive. Very respectful. You can see they're hungry for it and won't be as hard to manage as the younger ones.

All in all. Eh. It was a first day. High points. Low points. Lots of medium points. I think I'm just so glad it's over (I've never been so nervous for anything in my life...) that I'm just kind of drained.

High point: catching a football during morning recess and making all the boys go "Damn!"

Sweet.

Yes, Apparently I Am THAT Girl

This is going to be a long post. For those with short attention spans... suck it up, buttercup.

We finally met the kids on Wednesday. I won't bore you with the emo-ish parts of how freaking terrified I am of fucking this whole job up; but it was really a reality check to finally see the boys. I mean... painting, and going to dinner, and lesson planning, and meeting board members has all been wonderfully service-oriented and adult like... but this was the first time when it really hit me. That I am a teacher. I am responsible for the intellectual and emotional development of 30 young men. Scary.

The evening had its funny bits as well. There was a reporter there from a local newspaper. I had already spoken to her earlier that afternoon, so she was done with me. But she hadn't spoken to the others yet. And they were fleeing from her like she ebola. Especially D. N and I like to talk, so we didn't mind too much. M's a little shy if you don't know her well, but the reporter finally cornered her. But D. Could not have been more nervous/grumpy. And he's not the biggest guy in the world, so he fits especially well into corners and behind doors, and basically anywhere he can avoid the person trying to find him. But finally, she had him right where she wanted him. Unsuspectingly grumbling to M and me in the corner. He had just said something insulting/funny to M that I don't remember. Big mistake.

Reporter "Oh hey guys. I think I've talked to all of you right?"

M "Oh yeah. I think so. But... oh, Dave! You haven't gotten your chance yet, right?"

Bwahaha. No escaping now.

Yeah, but that was pretty much it. All the kids and parents seemed cool. Just... yeah. I'm scared.

We went on a "spiritual retreat" this past weekend. I thought it was actually going to be spiritual, so I was a little nervous (despite working at a Jesuit modeled school, I really don't believe in forcing religion down people's throats. Your spirituality is your own business as far as I'm concerned). But really, we just spent the entire time on the beach and it was pretty damn sweet.

The car ride down was... amusing. To say the least. M and I were working late on Thursday night (we went up on Friday morning) and P walks into the office. We thought he had left for the day (which surprised us enough, since I don't think I've ever actually seen him arrive at or leave the building. I secretly think he has his own living quarters in one of the rooms we're not allowed to us. Damn that man is a work-aholic). But, he comes back in. And he has a girl with him. A very pretty girl I might add. Cue devilish grins and a LOT of ribbing as soon as she is out of the room. We were 90% sure from the rather tomato-ish color of his skin at that point that this is a girlfriend. We're nice and polite to her and he hurries out before we get the chance to embarrass him further. We tell D and N about this new development. First thing first is we have to find out if this is really his girlfriend or a cousin or just a pretty board member. Only one way to find out. Ask. Of course.

Everyone turns to me.

Carp "Why me?!"
M "You know! You're the one that would... do that sort of thing?"
Carp "WHAT sort of thing would that be?"
D "You know... be..."
Carp "Abrasively forthright and extremely awkward?"
In unison "YES."

Apparently I am THAT girl. So yeah, I asked him. We had originally decided that I would ask if that was his baby'mama. But I decided not to push it. We would be together for the entire weekend after all. So I was quite boring and simply asked "So, who was the pretty lady yesterday?" Might as well have asked the other way, given the stuttering and the blushing. Classic.

We stayed in Falmouth at a former teacher's parents' house. It was gorgeous. And really close to the water. Which was also gorgeous. The guy's mom was there with us for a couple of days. She was a Character. I mean, really, she deserves the capital C. Very in your face kind of mothering with a very strong Boston accent. As soon as we walked in the door she gave us all big hugs and started ordering us to relax. But not before she laid down the rules.

Mrs. W "Now, everyone brought two towels, right?" Cue crickets chirping. Cue also big long-suffering sigh. "No? Ugh. Okay, well I'll lend you some of mine. But you have to have TWO towels. One for the shower, one for the beach. No beach towels or swimsuits indoors and you have to use the outside shower when you're coming in from the beach. The salt wears everything down." This place is absolutely IMMACULATE. Each room looks like a thousand dollar a night hotel room. And there are boats and lighthouses imprinted on every lamp, pillow, blanket, wastepaper basket, bar of soap... you get the idea. "No boys in girls rooms. Period. Just don't do it." Yeah, that lasted about thirty seconds. None of us are sleeping with each other, but M, D and I are pretty close, friendship wise. "I really don't like alcohol. So just... no. Not in my house." Maybe fifteen seconds? There were more instructions but I pretty much zoned out after the towel talk. I know that we should be grateful for letting us use her beautiful house (which we all are...) but, rules? Really?

It was a pretty quiet weekend overall. Just sat on the beach and got fried. We did have one boisterous game of Monopoly in which I wiped the floor with everyone. Monopoly's not that fun, but it's REALLY funny to watch D lose.

Carp "D, I have hotels on 10 properties, own half the board, and you have one utility. Are you sure you don't want to quit?"

D "No!! I can DO this!" Have it your way, then. haha.

There was one awkward moment while M and I were swimming. We stayed up pretty late the night before just chatting (we're getting really close. She's awesome). We found ourselves complaining (at length) about N's compulsive shopping behavior even when it's completely unnecessary... and some other things. At one point we heard something crash on the floor above us and for a while we were paranoid that we were being too loud and keeping people up.

Apparently we were. In a way. N swims up to us, "So, you ladies had a nice chat last night huh? You were up pretty late?"

M "Oh, I'm sorry. Did we keep you up?"

Busted. Awkward. I don't think he was too mad... but, yeah.

It was a good weekend. I feel much closer to M and D and P. N, not so much, but oh well. Can't win 'em all.

I Do Windows?

The past two days have been rough physically. We've been scrubbing, polishing, painting... yeah. About the painting. So M, P and I spent the better part of Monday painting the stairwell. It's cinderblock, so we did a light coat of block filler. I kept saying, "Wait shouldn't this be thicker?" but P said it was fine. Okay. But... yeah. Apparently it wasn't good enough for the interior decorator, so she's having a professional crew come in to redo it. An entire day's worth of work. Down the tube. Fuck.

It's been sort of fun though. I really enjoy this kind of thing, even though it is quite tiring. Cleaning the boys' locker room was DISGUSTING. I can't believe they rented this place to us in this condition. We're renting out the bottom of a YWCA. It's so gross. It's taken so much work to even make it workable, not to mention a nice looking place for kids to study. But beggars can't really be choosers. It was all we could afford. Right now we have the basement and first floor. Next year we either want to take on the second floor to accommodate another grade or move to an entirely new location.

So, silly, probably-not-so-funny-but-really-funny-to-me story.

We were finishing putting painters tape on the ceiling yesterday. There are sections over the stairs that we can't reach, even with a ladder.

N "P do you have any rulers?"

P "Why?"

N "I need something to use for tacking the tape on. Anything long and stiff will do."

Of course, I'm a completely immature person and start cracking up. No one catches it at first except for M, who manages only snort and snicker a little bit. N and D are just looking at me weird. Suddenly P turns bright red and says "Carp, you're going to have to clean up your sense of humor before school starts" (with a smile).

He walks out of the hallway to get the ruler.

N "What just happened?"

M and me "BWAHAHAHAHAHAHA"

Yeah.

Getting Spoiled

The perks for this job are un-freaking-believable. Our financial director gave P four free tickets to go see Maroon 5 and the Counting Crows last night. He already had plans, so he gave them to us. We had Friday off, so M and D went home for the weekend. But N and I got to go with friends of our own. It was awesome. I'm not a huge fan of either band, but I'm not about to turn down free tickets. And food.

Before the concert there was a reception for a local organization that basically is doing the same thing we are. This particular organization works with the public schools in the city, setting up after school and Saturday tutoring sessions for students who want to do better. They have the same goal of sending these kids to area independent schools and hopefully onto college. They also do a lot of fundraising to help offset the costs of the schools they're aiming for, whereas we depend more on the kids earning financial aid. It's a great organization. Bitterly, though, I realized that we are in competition with them. Instead of working together with other organizations we're all competing. It shouldn't be like that. I feel like we should all be working in tandem, since we have the same goal; but, unfortunately we're working with a relatively small pool of students compared to other cities with the same source of donors and investors. It's really sort of sad. Each organization is great and really works for certain people. It's not right that we should have to compete when we're doing such great things for the city. But, because we're all privately funded and we're working on helping people only within our city, we have to. I talked to one of the women who is a leader in the organization and she says we will be collaborating on certain projects, but it still strikes me as sort of depressing. Not only will we be competing with one another for funding, but our kids will be competing for admission into the same schools. I suppose it will be better for the kids in the end, because we're all going to have to work harder to be better than our competition; but part of me feels like these kids are struggling enough - why should we really make it any harder for them?

Anyway, the concert was fun. Started off with Sara Bareilles (she sings that hit "Love Song"). I've never really paid attention to her, but she's pretty talented. A little bubble gum-ish for my tastes, personally, but she's got a voice on her. I like the fact that she actually plays her own instruments. I was discussing with one of my friends once that you rarely see women in the music biz who do their own instrumentals anymore. So that was cool.

The Counting Crows were pretty awesome. They all just had so much energy! They really enjoy what they do and it shows. I was disappointed that they didn't play Mr. Jones, since that's the only song of theirs I really like. They seemed more interested in doing their new stuff, which I didn't find as stimulating. It was a little too chill for me. I like that kind of music, but if I'm going to see a live show, I'd like to see something a little more... adrenaline filled, I guess. Best concert I've ever been to was to see Badfish (a Sublime cover band) in Providence. THAT was fun. Mosh-pits and everything.

I was looking forward to seeing Maroon 5, but I was rather disappointed. I like their music, but they really stink when it comes to putting on a live show. The lead singer just had NO energy. And the music didn't sound as good (to me, anyway) as it does on their album. On the album, Adam Levine's voice just exudes this very raw sexuality. Sounds like he's just crooning into the mike. And I really enjoy the pace of the music. But that was lost on stage. He seemed... well, slower, more static. More deliberate. I saw them open for the Rolling Stones a few years ago, but I don't really remember anything about the performance.

I had fun, anyway, though. It was cool to go out and I had good company. All in all, a pretty cool night. I'm guessing once school actually starts this sort of thing isn't going to happen much, so might as well enjoy it while I can, right?

Up and Over

I think yesterday was the most enjoyable day of work I've had thus far. It was a day of getting all the little shit done that no one actually wants to do. I like doing that stuff (I know, I'm weird). At the end of the day, it may not have been fun, but I feel like I've actually accomplished something. M and D were meeting with the social studies mentor and N was meeting with the science mentor, so I had a free day. So I set myself to the task of getting the teachers' kitchen ready and cleaning the boys' bathroom. I actually had a good time. Started the day with getting my mini-fridge out of storage (aka, the beer fridge to my friends. Remember that thing? Can fit two and a half thirty racks. I love that freakin' thing) and hauling it into the school. Then I cleaned and mopped the kitchen and the bathroom. I find it very relaxing doing physical tasks.

Then I got to stamp the library books. That was kinda fun. Took a trip down memory lane, reading titles I haven't seen in years. I'm getting really excited about actually getting in the classroom.

The most exciting part of the day was unlocking one of the boys' stalls from the inside. I didn't feel like getting down on the floor and going under (even though I had just mopped the whole floor with disinfectant. call me crazy, but crawling around on a bathroom floor just doesn't appeal to me). P came in to see how I was doing and decided to help me unlock it.

At first he tried to just climb over the top. He's a BIG guy. The thing starts to shake and he looks like he's going to get stuck, so we nixxed that idea.

P "I know!"
Carp "What?"
P "Hoist me up!"
Carp "What?!"

I'm not exactly small. Pretty strong. Played rugby in college. But P's a big dude... 6"2, 210, something like that. But, I go, what the hell? Give it a try...

So I hoist him up, no problem, he unlocks the door, no sweat. Then the door swings inward...

P "Shiiiiit!" He starts to fall. I actually catch him. I help him stand up straight and think "Whew. Tragedy averted. I don't have to make up a story about exactly how the principal fell and broke his neck in the bathroom."

He's just standing there looking at me. Like I have four heads.

P "Uhhh, in retrospect, I probably should have been lifting you up, shouldn't I?"

I think people forget I'm a girl sometimes.

Sailing Adventures and DMV Fun Time! Part III

If this is a teacher's life, I can sort of get used to it. One of the board members has a sailing boat (I know nothing about sailing, so do not ask me what kind). He took us day sailing on Sunday and it was AMAZING. Except for the jellyfish. Jellyfish bad. But yeah, it was so cool. Being out there on the water is just so relaxing. The wind and the salt and the sun and the water just feel damn nice. Why did I not run away and become a pirate, again? We all went swimming off the back, despite the jelly fish. M and I got stung. Never been stung by one before. It's not as painful as I thought it would be. Just really really itchy. The water was lovely - but a little cold. Sort of stole my breath at first, but then I got used to it. Dodging jellyfish to keep warm helps.



But, back to the real world on Monday morning. We're going through actual orientation into the classroom now. Everyone seems to be willing to impart any pearl of wisdom they've got about teaching... except how to plan a freaking lesson. It's really getting frustrating. We've all worked with kids before; after four years of college one might reasonably expect we're well organized; and can figure out how to actually read what's in the damn teacher's manual... but what none of us has ever done is actually learn how to plan a lesson. That would be helpful... not making an outline of all the chapters included in the teacher's manual and what's in them. That would be called, I don't know... A TABLE OF CONTENTS, perhaps?! Jeez. I hope the next person will be a little more helpful...

And, oh yeah. Still don't have my fucking endorsement. M and I went today; waited for an hour and a half, then she found she has to complete an out of state criminal and driving background check and I still have more physical/medical shit to do. They MIGHT have told us that last fucking time!!! But noooo. Had to make us come all the way back to just to send us away again. Douchebags.

DMV Fun Time! Part II

So, I've officially decided that I may have the worst timing in the universe. I woke up later than expected and had to rush to get to the DMV (again) so that I can finally get my endorsement to cart the boys around. I get there with about half an hour to spare. There's absolutely no one in line and I thought, "Wow, something's actually going to get done..." Yeah. As soon as I hand the guy my folder, a woman comes up behind him and whispers something in his ear. He hands it back to me.

"Sorry, the entire DMV system in the state is down. You're going to have to come back on Tuesday."


... Shoot me.

DMV Fun Time! and the Adventures of Banana Man and the Miracle Fish

For the past two days we've spent most of our time getting physicals and going to the DMV to get endorsements to allow us to transport the kids to and from different activities (parents are responsible for getting them to and from school). It has been hell.

We sat at the DMV for two and a half hours yesterday (I'm sure I need not explain how completely tortuous that experience is) only to find that the doctor who filled out our physical forms did not check off one tiny box: monocular vision, yes or no? WTF? It was awful.

On the way home we stopped at a grocery store. We thought it was just something generic like a Stop N' Shop. Haha. No. No, it was... well, let's see if I can paint a picture.

When you first approach the store there are shopping carts out front, like any store. But at this one, they are all changed together and you must invest a $.25 deposit to use the cart. Oookay. A little weird. They have "name brand" items, such as Frosted Flakes - but not with a picture of Tony the Tiger. Whole pig ears and skin an ears are available at the butcher. And you can purchase a container of MSG for just $0.99! They charged us $.10 per grocery bag we used to carry our stuff out. But the best part was most certainly our fellow shoppers. We observed one man who purchased nothing but bananas and vanilla pudding. An entire cart load of bananas and pudding. Interesting.

After this, we decided it was time for a drink. We walked to a bar fairly close to our house, a little Irish place. It was trivia night. Team Suck-It-Monocular-Vision did fairly well. Although not one of us had any idea that the Crickets were, indeed, the backup band for Buddy Holiday or what holy city millions of Hindus travel to every year. Nevertheless, we were tied for third place. We played pool and darts; it was a fun time. Even though a rather nervous and insistent mute with missing teeth kicked us off our pool table after a couple of rounds.

I enjoyed bonding with the others. Especially over gold fish. Not the snack. The fish. We were discussing possibly getting a pet of some sort. I really want a ferret that is trained to beat up cats. My friend used to have one that would stalk the family cat and jump on its back, punching it in the head. I thought it was great. M wanted a gold fish, asserting that they're really easy to take care of; hers has been alive for 11 years. D argued that it's impossible.

D (who has a kinda cute midwestern accent): "There is NO way that you've had a gold fish for 11 years. That's impossible!"

M: I swear! It's this ugly little thing, but it's a miracle fish! I've had it since I was 11.

D (getting emphatically agitated): NO. No, that's ridiculous.

It went on and on. I was laughing my ass off. N and I both agreed that she's probably had several fish over the years and that her parents were probably switching them without her noticing. P concurred.

M: "No! My parents aren't like that. They'd be like 'your damn fish is dead, finally!'"

I proposed that D most likely had a beloved fish by the name of Goldie who passed on rather suddenly and tragic to the big fishbowl in the sky. He was so traumatized that he most likely cried for four months and has never allowed his heart to belong to any other fish. He most likely broke his piggy bank (another few years of therapy) to fund a grand memorial service, burying his beloved pet in the back yard in a rather nice shoebox (it was expensive, but Goldie deserved the best).

I tell ya, when D gives those kids the Look in a couple of weeks, they are going to pee their pants. Laughing.

First Impressions

I like the other teachers so far. They seem pretty cool. There are two young men (D and N) and one other woman (M). I share the second floor with M (the kitchen and living room are on the first floor) and D and N share the third. We each have our own rooms.

M seems really nice, but I don't think we have much in common. But then again, I haven't really talked to her much. She likes running and was a psych major. I'm jealous that she didn't get stuck with a match section like the rest of us. Math and I REALLY don't get along.

I had drinks with N once before this - he and I don't have too much in common. But he's very nice, very energetic. He's interested in keeping himself healthy. The best way that I can describe him is sort of new-age type stuff. He's into yoga and biking and has that general "Peace be with you" sort of attitude.

D seems more like me, but a little quieter. He and I enjoy some of the same TV shows: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia, Southpark.

It's going to be an interesting dynamic...

P took us to lunch at S's restaurant, but S wasn't there. The meal was fairly uneventful, P told us about what was to be coming up during orientation (he was REALLY excited about our sailing trip). He talked about a few of the board members. We found out he's a Red Sox fan; we found out D is OBSESSED with anything having to do with Pittsburgh and Pennsylvania in general, especially Penn State football. D and N had an interesting argument over who was more badass, Bear Grylls or Les Stroud.

At the end of the meal, however, P asked N (who is a server at a restaurant, currently) whether servers mind when a customer hands them a plate when they are clearing. N said yes, that he hated it when he has an armful of plates and someone shoves something at him. I mentioned that when S was a server he liked it when customers stack plates. N was scandalized.

N "But stacking plates messes with the aesthetic of the restaurant. It LOOKS bad. I just have too much invested in the restaurant to do that. "

Okay. Yeah. Kinda... okay.

D "Invested in...? But it makes it easier and faster for the server to clear if the dishes are stacked. I mean, you're there to make money, right? Why wouldn't you want your customers to help you out a little?"

N "But it messes with the aesthetic. It doesn't look right in a classy restaurant. If I walk by and I see dishes stacked in the middle of the table, it's not the same..."

D "It's not like if I go to a classy restaurant and see someone's stacked their dishes for the server that I won't go back. I mean, it's not a big deal."

I mentioned that it was simply a courtesy to the server, makes things easy for them.

P was just kind of staring at us. He looked sheepish. "I just wanted to know if servers mind when I hand them a dish while they're clearing." Ohhh P.

Welcome and New Beginnings

I've done a couple of blogs before, but none of them have ever really been satisfying for me. I've kept the same title, mostly, just because I like it. This one, I hope, will be a more satisfying venture for me and for anyone who decides to read it. 

Here's what you need to know: 

1) Who I am.

I'm a recent college grad embarking upon my first real-world job. I'm going to be teaching at a pre-prep school (5th, 6th, 7th, 8th). I played soccer and rugby in college. I also majored in English Lit, with double minors in Philosophy and Women, Gender, Sexuality. I've been dating the same guy since I was 16 (very close to going on 17) and I am now 22. He's a bartender at a local restaurant with aspirations of becoming a firefighter someday as well as some other things. He's 24. 

2) The school

 It's a small school (only 30 kids) that's privately funded. The mission of the school is to take in and prepare financially disadvantaged young men from urban areas and give them the opportunity to attend some of the finest private schools in the country, then hopefully some of the finest colleges. This is the first year of this particular branch of the school (it is already well established in other areas of the country. I believe there are 26 others like it that have all been very successful). If the kids were paying to go here, the tuition would be about $25,000 a year. But, through the generosity of private donors and Americorps, there is no tuition. Mostly because the full time teachers (all 4 of us...) are not paid a salary. Instead, we are given a place to live, health insurance, and a stipend of $200 every two weeks. 

3) The House

The other teachers and I live in a townhouse downtown. We are renting it from a local university and it's pretty nice. We have a parking garage and our only neighbors are a luxury apartment building (where my former boss lives) and some great restaurants. It's about a 15 minute walk to the school, but I don't plan on walking. 

I'm hoping this will be a great experience and I plan to chronicle it (from my point of view). Pseudonyms will be used, of course. I don't promise to update everyday, or week, or even frequently. I only promise that when I do, I'll have something amusing to say, or at least interesting.

I just moved in to the house yesterday. I was the last to arrive. P (my boss) met S (my boy) and me at the parking garage. Or was supposed to, assuming I could access it. Typical of the kind of things that happen to me, quite frequently, S and I were stuck outside. The garage was closed, with not a security guard in sight. P was of no help (he's a lovely man, and I will tell you more about him later, but about as awkwardly disorganized as I am). So, finally the security guard lets us in. I'm able to park and go up to meet P. He gives me what he thinks is the access card for the garage and tells me to move the car around to the street so he can help me unload all my stuff. 

Card in hand, armed with the knowledge that all I have to do is flash it at a censor to be let in and out of the garage, I confidently drive towards the exit. After a few absurdly frantic flashes of my magic card and some very aggravated honking from the small parade that was lining up behind my car, I realized that perhaps P was full of shit.

I managed to back up without hitting anyone (a small miracle) and pulled in next to the security guard's office. She calls the garage manager, informing him that a (very stupid) new tenant is trying to access the garage without much success. She lets me out a side door and tells me to come back in a few so I can be registered. So I drive up, unload all my stuff (the story about how apparently locks hate me and doors refuse to open for me, but will for everyone else really isn't THAT funny) then go back to the garage.

Only, I can't get in. AGAIN. A nice tenant drives up and tells me that she will let me in if I drive in after her. So I do. Another guard comes running up, yelling that I can't do that, who do I think I am, things of that nature. I frantically wave my little white card "But I just moved in! My boss gave me my card! But it won't work!" Please don't call the cops. Please!!

He, of course, is cracking up. He comes up to my rolled down window grinning (not altogether meanly, though).

"New parker?"

 Ummm, yeah. How'd ya guess?

"You need a sticker to trigger the censor."

Ohhhh. A sticker? Not a little magic card that waves to the nice censor. Genius!

Yeah. That was fun.

After I got the parking settled and was finally unpacking my stuff (hurriedly, since I had plans with friends for later that evening) I had a dresser fall on me.  Yes. After all that, the freaking dresser tipped over on me, strewing clothes, jewelry and makeup EVERYWHERE and breaking the beautiful music box I got in Switzerland when I was 15. Not to mention me. Of course, that's how I met M.

"Ummm, are you okay?"

Don't mind me. The resident clutz has arrived. You'll get used to it...