...at EXACTLY the right time.
Amen.
Saturday, May 30, 2009
Thursday, May 28, 2009
Whatever it takes...
Allan Monroe is a stoner who doesn't smoke pot (at least not before class that I could tell). He looks and acts the part: hemp jewelry and spacey attitude. When I did final grades last night for photojournalism (the EASIEST class on the planet), his was a 43.76% F.
Our school district studied an educational book entitled "Whatever It Takes" a few years ago. It was a good read, and some conversations ensued that helped us form a culture of learning. Unfortunately, the phrase has been bastardized to mean that teachers are expected to work much harder than students to ensure students pass.
To make a long, predictable story more bearable: Allan came in after his final to try to get a passing grade. We worked for two hours, and once his grade became a D, he decided to try to get it up to a C so his car wouldn't be taken away by his parents. This kid is NOT dumb, I thought, as I entered his 70.14% C into the computer.
Whatever it fucking takes.
Our school district studied an educational book entitled "Whatever It Takes" a few years ago. It was a good read, and some conversations ensued that helped us form a culture of learning. Unfortunately, the phrase has been bastardized to mean that teachers are expected to work much harder than students to ensure students pass.
To make a long, predictable story more bearable: Allan came in after his final to try to get a passing grade. We worked for two hours, and once his grade became a D, he decided to try to get it up to a C so his car wouldn't be taken away by his parents. This kid is NOT dumb, I thought, as I entered his 70.14% C into the computer.
Whatever it fucking takes.
Saturday, May 23, 2009
Plumbers on Crack
Memorial Day weekend would have been a grand time to officially move into our new house. I say "would have been" because the damn plumber did NOT finish the job as agreed. He told us he'd be done Friday, but instead, only came to measure for the job on Friday and will finish up on Tuesday.
How fucking inconsiderate and lazy. I am so mad...so close and yet so farrrrrrrrrrr.
Well, the distributive property of mathematics applies here (or is it associative?). Plumbers HAVE a crack. I have a foot that would fit in the plumber's crack. Plumbers, therefore, who blow off jobs for 5 weeks DESERVE my foot up their ass.
Ok. Better now.
How fucking inconsiderate and lazy. I am so mad...so close and yet so farrrrrrrrrrr.
Well, the distributive property of mathematics applies here (or is it associative?). Plumbers HAVE a crack. I have a foot that would fit in the plumber's crack. Plumbers, therefore, who blow off jobs for 5 weeks DESERVE my foot up their ass.
Ok. Better now.
Saturday, May 16, 2009
I am needed
Meanwhile, back at the ranch...
While i was waiting for furniture delivery #3, I had Mr. TV News Producer, a former student, go to the high school to "supervise" the kids at newspaper deadline night. We work from after school to 10 PM on these nights, but I really wanted to be there to supervise the furniture deal. (It's a good thing I was there too, one of the whiny delivery doods complained about the mud and almost got my foot up his ass.)
Anyhoo, I maintained cell phone communication with Mr. TV, and I thought all was going well, so I took my time getting back to school. They ordered pizza, and when I returned, things seemed normal enough. Except when the kids got back to work, I realized VERY little work had actually been accomplished in the 2 previous hours.
As the tale of what happened during my absence unfolded, it involved missing Senior editors, soccer games, and students doing tumbling down the hallways. It's hard for a newspaper to get done when you have 3 students actually working. Mr. TV looked like he had been through an old-fashioned washing machine -- and said he had developed a headache from being back in the high school. Welcome to my fucking world!
So, I summonsed up some energy from deep down, and started ordering people to work. The paper got nearly completed by 10 p.m., and I put out approximately 37 fires in the five hours I was there. Kids have so much drama: Lucy, the graphics editor, was annoyed with editor-in-chief's (Laurel) older boyfriend hanging out and making snide comments; Lela, the news editor who happens to have cerebral palsy, was bummed about her parents' impending divorce; and Jason, the sports editor, had to bug out for awhile cuz he was overstimulated and had anxiety.
But, I realized I am needed. It's not enough to have a well-trained staff of high school journalists. I am the catalyst that makes things happen, and I am the hammer that has to drop eventually. According to state law, (Senate File 224) the adviser of a student publication shall "advise" and ensure students adhere to high journalistic standards. The student editors shall assign and edit the news. What the law fails to mention is that the adviser also deals with teenage angst and hormones.
So, to conclude, thanks to Mr. TV News Producer for attempting to supervise and for helping me move furniture into the house, and thanks to my students for keeping me vibrant and alive and youngerish. It's nice to be needed.
While i was waiting for furniture delivery #3, I had Mr. TV News Producer, a former student, go to the high school to "supervise" the kids at newspaper deadline night. We work from after school to 10 PM on these nights, but I really wanted to be there to supervise the furniture deal. (It's a good thing I was there too, one of the whiny delivery doods complained about the mud and almost got my foot up his ass.)
Anyhoo, I maintained cell phone communication with Mr. TV, and I thought all was going well, so I took my time getting back to school. They ordered pizza, and when I returned, things seemed normal enough. Except when the kids got back to work, I realized VERY little work had actually been accomplished in the 2 previous hours.
As the tale of what happened during my absence unfolded, it involved missing Senior editors, soccer games, and students doing tumbling down the hallways. It's hard for a newspaper to get done when you have 3 students actually working. Mr. TV looked like he had been through an old-fashioned washing machine -- and said he had developed a headache from being back in the high school. Welcome to my fucking world!
So, I summonsed up some energy from deep down, and started ordering people to work. The paper got nearly completed by 10 p.m., and I put out approximately 37 fires in the five hours I was there. Kids have so much drama: Lucy, the graphics editor, was annoyed with editor-in-chief's (Laurel) older boyfriend hanging out and making snide comments; Lela, the news editor who happens to have cerebral palsy, was bummed about her parents' impending divorce; and Jason, the sports editor, had to bug out for awhile cuz he was overstimulated and had anxiety.
But, I realized I am needed. It's not enough to have a well-trained staff of high school journalists. I am the catalyst that makes things happen, and I am the hammer that has to drop eventually. According to state law, (Senate File 224) the adviser of a student publication shall "advise" and ensure students adhere to high journalistic standards. The student editors shall assign and edit the news. What the law fails to mention is that the adviser also deals with teenage angst and hormones.
So, to conclude, thanks to Mr. TV News Producer for attempting to supervise and for helping me move furniture into the house, and thanks to my students for keeping me vibrant and alive and youngerish. It's nice to be needed.
Friday, May 15, 2009
The End before the Beginning
Our house is 95% done, and we own it. We got the keys on Thursday night and gave DA MAN da check. Today we had our $11,500 worth of furniture delivered in 3 shifts. It worked out smoothly and the house looks beeeeeeutiful. The kitchen is pictured here.
Only problem is that there was a miscommunication between my hubby and the plumber. I wonder if this plumber shows his butt crack. He IS a butt crack in my book, because he failed to show up the last two days and as a result we have no water. Therefore we can't move in.
And there is nothing but mud around our house, so you gotta put on your mud boots just to access it. I swear, those are the only two complaints I have; I am not going to start whining about a brand new unexpected house. Aye, there's the rub.
I didn't expect to be living in a brand new house 4 months ago. I was content in our old home. And by old, I mean 1920's Victorian. But I LOOOOOVE the new house. I've explained this paradox before, but it is still here. Except there's a new twist.
Now that the new stuff is here, and I am accumulating stuff again, I am kinda happy the old house burned down. It's OK that I had to sacrifice everything to start all over. Hmmmmm. Is this a turning point? It's like the end of one chapter, the beginning of the next. Or, it's like the title insinuates, the end before the beginning...the beginning of the rest of our lives.
Friday, May 8, 2009
Twitter and Plurk
Remember product placement? Well, here's a blogspot commercial for twitter and plurk: introducing facebook/myspace statuses on STEROIDS!
I like to think I'm better than the average bear at coming up with interesting plurks/tweets/statuses. Most people put "going to bed now" or "is going to take a dump now" (not really, cuz THAT would be interesting) but I have much more creative entries. You see, if I update my plurk, it automatically updates my twitter and facebook, so I like to look at it as multi-tasking.
Here is a listing of my most recent tweets:
I like to think I'm better than the average bear at coming up with interesting plurks/tweets/statuses. Most people put "going to bed now" or "is going to take a dump now" (not really, cuz THAT would be interesting) but I have much more creative entries. You see, if I update my plurk, it automatically updates my twitter and facebook, so I like to look at it as multi-tasking.
Here is a listing of my most recent tweets:
- wonders if AJ is better today... http://plurk.com/p/sq18f
- shares http://tinyurl.com/6nhbdt (Photos That Changed The World) http://plurk.com/p/spzhd
- happily greets the weekend...in spite of her slower than hell home-builder. http://plurk.com/p/sn1vc
- dances the Friday dance. If only she were in her own home, life would be purrrrrfect. http://plurk.com/p/sjv17
- shares Susan Boyle's I dreamed a dream song, can't get it out of my head: http://tinyurl.com/c49rgl http://plurk.com/p/sfi16
- hates very little: green peppers and judgmental people is about it. http://plurk.com/p/scbz7
- is on a date wif hubby...to a new family restaurant, famously called "Family Restaurant." http://plurk.com/p/s8ecw
- feels too amorous to be going to work today... (devil) http://plurk.com/p/s52ny
- wonders who...who wrote the book of love? http://plurk.com/p/rxdzs
- wonders why being a woman is so damn grueling sometimes. http://plurk.com/p/rt8ae
- asks the goddesses of construction to be watching over our home this week. GET DONE YOU BIG OAFS. http://plurk.com/p/rq8o7
- lacks motivation: needs a swift kick in the rear today. http://plurk.com/p/rj3jh
- wants things, stuff, and possessions. After healing from the fire, I am now feeling materialistic. http://plurk.com/p/rdos6
- contemplates scatological functions (like snot) and giggles... (LOL) http://plurk.com/p/r6wnt
- wants her new house, wants a smooth shift, and wants world peace. Is that too much to ask? http://plurk.com/p/r078s
- forgot that the fire happened 3 months ago today. What an anniversary. http://plurk.com/p/qw9ja
- is humpa humpa hump day! http://plurk.com/p/qt9k2
- feels happy for all the gay couples in Iowa about to take the plunge...hope the Phelps wackos stay away. http://plurk.com/p/qm5gq
- survived. http://plurk.com/p/qi601
- wishes she weren't allergic to Monday mornings. (sick) http://plurk.com/p/qf90p
Wednesday, May 6, 2009
Food From the Fire: Allister's blog
We were well taken care of food-wise right after the fire. The day after, we went to school to meet the Red Cross volunteer (who gave us the most pathetic ziploc baggie of stuff and a nice quilt) and we were bombarded with food donations.
The English department had gone to the grocery store and loaded us up with frozen foods and snack items; Burnie, the hilarious department chair who had just had a heart attack (nobody wants to be in our department now) gave us a big chicken casserole, and the special education department notified us that they would be feeding us three meals over two weeks.
We had taco salad (which was great, but they made too much and it didn't keep well), chicken casserole (which disappeared in Mom-in-law's deep freeze) and pigs-n-blankets from the special ed kids, and desserts: all served in dishes we got to keep. Jenny, my former student who is now a colleague, baked us chicken/rice casserole and lasagna with South Des Moines' own Graziano Brothers' sausage. It was to die for.
I guess food is a great gift when somebody loses everything in a fire. Food and clothes. Food, clothes and cash. All of which we got in abundance.
And we gained a little weight at first, which we are now losing as we get more stressed about not having our house to ourselves yet. This blog has been brought to you by Allister, the bi-sexual, angry, half-breed who is my poet friend.
The English department had gone to the grocery store and loaded us up with frozen foods and snack items; Burnie, the hilarious department chair who had just had a heart attack (nobody wants to be in our department now) gave us a big chicken casserole, and the special education department notified us that they would be feeding us three meals over two weeks.
We had taco salad (which was great, but they made too much and it didn't keep well), chicken casserole (which disappeared in Mom-in-law's deep freeze) and pigs-n-blankets from the special ed kids, and desserts: all served in dishes we got to keep. Jenny, my former student who is now a colleague, baked us chicken/rice casserole and lasagna with South Des Moines' own Graziano Brothers' sausage. It was to die for.
I guess food is a great gift when somebody loses everything in a fire. Food and clothes. Food, clothes and cash. All of which we got in abundance.
And we gained a little weight at first, which we are now losing as we get more stressed about not having our house to ourselves yet. This blog has been brought to you by Allister, the bi-sexual, angry, half-breed who is my poet friend.
Sunday, May 3, 2009
Life is Beautiful
At the risk of sounding manic, I'm going to state that today, I feel that life is beautiful.
Why? Simple. Omar's son woke up on his own out of a 4-month coma two days ago. This is the Omar I wrote about at Christmas time, who's son developed meningitis and got so sick they had to put him into a sleep-induced coma. For four long months, I've been diverting Omar's attention from his son through facebook -- me and an army of others who care about him deeply.
We've been playing MHA, chatting in IRC and IM, having CC's in Skype with the gang, and generally having an acronym of a good time! I adopted him as my little brother somewhere along the way, and we have even had a spat like siblings do -- it's very sweet, except the part where we drifted apart for a week or so.
But then his son freaking WOKE UP and said, "Where's daddy?" The hospital sent him home that day, and he's recouperating at grannies for a little while, where he can get spoiled rotten with attention. I even chatted with him on Skype yesterday -- there he was sitting on Omar's lap, sounding as precious as can be and looking like a normal, healthy 4 year old. He calls me "Auntie Lisa" and calls himself "Bob". LOL. Omar has taught him how to say Bob with an American accent.
AHHHHHHHHhhhhhhh. Elvis gospel is playing softly today, as the boys (Son #2 and Cousin) are still asleep in the next room. I am lazy, have nothing much to do, and have a whole day to do it in. Life is beautiful. 'Nuff said.
Why? Simple. Omar's son woke up on his own out of a 4-month coma two days ago. This is the Omar I wrote about at Christmas time, who's son developed meningitis and got so sick they had to put him into a sleep-induced coma. For four long months, I've been diverting Omar's attention from his son through facebook -- me and an army of others who care about him deeply.
We've been playing MHA, chatting in IRC and IM, having CC's in Skype with the gang, and generally having an acronym of a good time! I adopted him as my little brother somewhere along the way, and we have even had a spat like siblings do -- it's very sweet, except the part where we drifted apart for a week or so.
But then his son freaking WOKE UP and said, "Where's daddy?" The hospital sent him home that day, and he's recouperating at grannies for a little while, where he can get spoiled rotten with attention. I even chatted with him on Skype yesterday -- there he was sitting on Omar's lap, sounding as precious as can be and looking like a normal, healthy 4 year old. He calls me "Auntie Lisa" and calls himself "Bob". LOL. Omar has taught him how to say Bob with an American accent.
AHHHHHHHHhhhhhhh. Elvis gospel is playing softly today, as the boys (Son #2 and Cousin) are still asleep in the next room. I am lazy, have nothing much to do, and have a whole day to do it in. Life is beautiful. 'Nuff said.
Friday, May 1, 2009
No House Yet
Sorry for rambling on about the house; but it's important to my overall psyche....I have bad vibes because the builder is taking his damn sweet time putting the house together. According to the loose-lipped salesman, they laid off their "normal" crew because business was so slow, and they don't want to rehire them because they'll have to pay unemployment. As a result, they have a skeleton crew working on our house -- and they have turned a "3-day job" into a two-week job.
*heavy sigh*
It's tough being homeless, albeit temporarily. We have a roof over our heads, but it is not home: it is filled with other people's junk. I want junk of my own. I HAVE junk of my own, sitting at the furniture store, waiting for the go-ahead to deliver. When will that be? Only the goddesses know.
In the meantime, life rolls by. Teaching is going well, even the 4th block class from hell is cooperating and they really got into their black & white 35 mm film assignment. We develop the film in the darkroom today, which is always fun. Seriously, nothing like being with 8 adolescents in a pitch-black room for 15 minutes or so to make you appreciate your sanity. :)
Sanity? Did I just say that? Ms. Wacko on anti-depressants just professed to be sane? Ha ha ha ha ha ha. I must be in a good mood, aside from the morning pukes and reticence to get to work.
No house, but in a holding pattern. To refer back to my previous scatological reference, I think we're over the pain and are simply waiting for the poop to flow.
*heavy sigh*
It's tough being homeless, albeit temporarily. We have a roof over our heads, but it is not home: it is filled with other people's junk. I want junk of my own. I HAVE junk of my own, sitting at the furniture store, waiting for the go-ahead to deliver. When will that be? Only the goddesses know.
In the meantime, life rolls by. Teaching is going well, even the 4th block class from hell is cooperating and they really got into their black & white 35 mm film assignment. We develop the film in the darkroom today, which is always fun. Seriously, nothing like being with 8 adolescents in a pitch-black room for 15 minutes or so to make you appreciate your sanity. :)
Sanity? Did I just say that? Ms. Wacko on anti-depressants just professed to be sane? Ha ha ha ha ha ha. I must be in a good mood, aside from the morning pukes and reticence to get to work.
No house, but in a holding pattern. To refer back to my previous scatological reference, I think we're over the pain and are simply waiting for the poop to flow.
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