Hail, Floods and Pestilence

Well, we got a good old-fashioned summer thunderstorm to start our day today: the official first day of summer vacation.

To celebrate, we woke up at 5:30 a.m. as usual. Tried to make the coffee but were almost out. Tried to read the paper but it wasn't here yet. Tried to get on the computer but the power kept flickering.

And now we're trying to get ready for the teacher's perfect summer vacation -- going into school! Hubby is teaching summer government, so he's in the shower getting ready to go. I'm working on the yearbook still every day, so I'll be heading out about an hour after him. Glamorous, eh?

So now we got hail and flood warnings. The pestilence is the current presidential election -- the Democrats have their heads up their rears and the Republicans could capitalize on that.

Happy Summer!

Mother of All Phoons

Well, Jedi did it. He bagged the perfect phoon. I've had it enlarged to a 24 x 36 poster to hang in my classroom, and bought a 10 x 15 for him. He's going to come in and do a slide show of his Caribbean vacation this week and I'll surprise him with it.

See, when you work so intensely with kids in extracurriculars, you develop these parallel relationships, as a colleague penned them. You get close and you share life and it's all cool. His wonderful girlfriend suffers from depression also, and I've tried to give him some tips on how to cope with it all. But he's a great guy and already knew it all.

He's going to school for neurosciences and journalism here close to home, and I'm sure we haven't heard the last of him. I'm so lucky to make acquaintances with young adults like him.

And Ranae has been running wild lately and I haven't seen my yearbook editor-in-chief much. But she promises to rectify that beginning tomorrow.

It always comes back to that damn yearbook.

Cat Shit

I woke up this morning to find cat poop in my purse. Previously, I have found cat poop on my computer bag, and on 3 other purses. I think our old female is trying to tell me something.

We have 4 cats now, and we have 4 litter boxes in the basement. You'd think that would be sufficient, but oh no, that little bitch has to mark my territory as hers. It's war now: I'm just in the right mood to put her down for not being able to control her bladder. She is probably sick somehow, but she's old and would medical treatment really be effective at her age? She's quirky as hell, but aren't we all?

These decisions are not fun. I know the animal rights groups would tell me to take her to the vet and spend lots of money on her. I know that others would say it's cruel to let her live like this; she doesn't enjoy defacating on my purses.

Is this the circle of life? Shit in inappropriate places then you die?

Too early in the morning for this shit, that's for sure.

Busy in my Mind

I'm busy with my mind, but not with my body. I can sit here for hours creating things on this new kick-ass computer I've acquired. It's got multi-media capabilities and an internal camera. This morning so far I've conversed with Shownarou via Skype and saw his new lip tusks he got gaged a few weeks back. I've spoke with one of the Badding twins via gmail chat about his yearbook page and overruled his judgement. I have chatted with my oldest son about our plans for meeting tomorrow. And I've ordered our Graceland, Sun Records, Hard Rock Cafe on Beale Street, and various Soul museum tickets and made Heart Break Hotel reservations. Oh yeah, I'm on a roll.

Plus, I've had bad luck on my mobwars game on facebook. I've been busted twice already today for attempting train robberies.

So, will this help me stay mentally acute in the face of Alzheimers, which runs in my family?

These things are on my mind this morning.

The Man

Dammit. It's as if I'm clairvoyant. The man came to my room during second period, when I wasn't supposed to have kids. Of course there were kids in the room; there are always kids in my room. He handed me my manila folder, and explained it contained THE letter that would be on file in my PERMANENT record. I was to read it, sign, and go to the Principal's office in a few minutes.

So, I obliged. I read said letter, which they had all wrong. They said it was my sex101 blog, which it wasn't. It was Thresholds and Other Ruminations. Remember that name.

Lol.

So the meeting in the Principals office was anti-climactic, and we talked Cubbies and motorcycle nights at local bars. The Principal said shit at one point, and the man said they had to cover their ass. . . and I'm the profane one.

Nuf said.

Final Final Finals

Tomorrow is high school final day. That means the last day of regular classes was today, and everyone in the school is happy about it but me. I still have two months of work left on the yearbook, and if history repeats itself, three or four.

Waa Waa, poor me. There, the pity party is over. Hell, who am I kidding? That's what this blog is all about.

The photojournalism kids started presenting their finals today, and they were good -- but the first few who volunteer to go always are. They make photo essays and present them orally using the projector and Adobe Bridge. It's slick -- unless the technology craps out, which is frequent. Like today after school the entire network went down and I couldn't burn the rest of the students' discs. Hope it's up by tomorrow, or else it's Plan B, which I have yet to pull out of my ass.

They have been instructed to put only their top pictures in the folder called "Final Final." Most of them do this, except for the stupid heads who can't follow instructions or read an assignment sheet. That's one of my big pet peeves -- because I so thoroughly give these instructions and utilize all brain styles that it irks me when a student just plain doesn't listen. Like I'm speaking like an adult in the Peanuts' movies: Whaw whaw whaw whaw whaw.

Oh well, the curse of most teachers, I'd assume. I've been told that you should only give students directions ONCE to train them to learn. I just whine when they ask me questions I went over and direct them to their clearly labeled assignment sheet of assorted colors.

So, I wish this was my Final Finals week, but I've signed up for another year. It could be worse: I could be back in 'da Hood. I'll have to have flashbacks to my alternative education years.

Ahhh, those were the days -- when I taught at the roughest school in the Midwest, with the best staff on the planet.

Now I'm in whitey white land with some of the smartest kids I've ever known. And I'm happy.

Until the man messes with me again.

Grape Propel

I love grape Propel fit water beverage. I have two or three a day. It is alway son my desk. Here's a pic to prove it. Me and Pi work on CreativeSuite CS2, which he has been trying to teach me for 4 years now. I still rely on him to help recreate the paper and to do advertising catalogs; he's one in a million for sure. (He has, incidentally, given permission for his image and identity to be used in this blog and subsequent blooks. At a price, of course; he is not stupid.)

Anyway, me and my Propel plug along at XHS. We are contracted for another year, as far as I know, and so we will put together another 9 issues of the paper and one yearbook. We are doing the yearbook online next year, and aside from the Kiwi incident, are all set for a year of getting the book done by June 15th. Then, I go on to other pursuits in the summer of 09.

Oh, and I gotta get that pesky doctorate. For credibility.

Like 25 years in the classroom in one form or another doesn't count.

Dr. Calvin and book signings and adult education for parents of sexually active teens, here we come. Guess I got some 'splaining to do, Lucy.