Braydon

Meet Braydon: yearbook geek of the decade.

Well, of the past three full years and to the end of first semester, at least. Braydon took photojournalism as a freshman, then joined the yearbook as a sophomore. He currently is a fifth-year senior. We know each other well.

To start, every year I give out silly awards and Braydon wins the "Best at Hovering" award. Everytime I freaking turn around, THERE he is. This wouldn't be so bad, but to be blunt: he has personal hygiene issues. He is a stinky boy some days.

Add to this his overall "nerdy" attire and his poor economic home situation, and you have one helluva kid. He is a computer whiz, although he has to keep his together with duct tape at home, it seems. He's always cobbing together a working machine from crap. He also glommed onto our online yearbook software like a pro; and he teaches the staff like Pi used to -- not very well. Braydon is actually a little better than Pi, but social skills aren't either of their forte's. Plus, they both stunk up the computer lab on certain days.

I need to talk to Braydon about his stench. He is in my room like 3 hours a day, and Friday he really stunk up the joint to the point where other kids were commenting on the smell of the lab. He's a sweetheart; so this won't be easy.

Especially since he's now done all my work on the ladder for yearbook. Over the summer, he assigned pages and reduced the book 4 pages, which helped. Then, on Saturday he assigned all the people and deadline dates AND wrote up a document splitting all the deadlines in an easy-to-print format for grading and such. He's going to split it up by people, also, so we know who is supposed to be just sitting around.

So, I praised him online yesterday in an e-mail and a private instant message on gmail. I've given him the title of co-Adviser also, with Adviser privileges online. Now I'll give him a lecture about washing his ass, and everything will be peachy keen.

Another example of the glamorous life of a public school teacher, plus another example of how diverse the kids I love appear to be, but how they really are all the same. All they need is a laugh and some gentle guidance, and they will bark like puppies for you.

So hover away, Braydon. You've learned my job very well by hovering for 4 years. You're gonna make me look good once again, and I love you for it.

Friday Morning Musings

Why is it so much easier to wake up on Fridays?

Is it because the weekend looms large? Is it because of some magical aura that surrounds the day? Whatever the reason, I'm DAMN glad it is Friday today.

This week has been productive -- or I've been productive. I've organized my classes well and they are operating like a smoothly oiled machine. (Exception: the study hall from hell last hour. I had to actually yell on Wednesday when they were acting like animals instead of young adults.)

The yearbook is supposed to be delivered this week, but I haven't seen it yet. It better get here by next Friday, which is Homecoming, so I can get rid of the last years' seniors books while they are back visiting. I pray we didn't make any huge errors, like "pubic school" instead of "public school" or a cutline identifying the wrong student in a photo.

Of course, I won't hear anything positive about the book, I only get the negative. Last year I got a nasty call from a freshman cheerleader's parent about why they aren't in the book. Well, we have a policy that we only cover Varsity sports, which didn't go over well with the parent because "those freshman cheerleaders work their rear ends off." Sigh.

I work my rear end off and I only get bitched at. Kids go out of their way to point out the errors in the book, but where is the love?

Anyhoo, Fridays rock and I shall survive. Time to get my ass in the shower, or I'll be late to school, which at this point, can get me fired. I'm just one false move away from the unemployment line since my "censored" incident last year -- it's in my permanent record and everything.

Maybe it was easy to wake up today because I passed out around 7:30 PM last night. AHhhhhhh, the glorious life of a "pubic" school teacher.

School Year Update

In true retrospective style, I will fill the reader in on the first three weeks of school.

I ROCK.

My students also rock. I feel like I know my shit now. AND IT FEELS GOOD.

Hope this isn't more foreshadowing, because I just, not 30 minutes ago, burned the final copy of my book for the publisher. I have the first amendment lawyer in my corner, or in my bookmarks, so I can get proper representation as a citizen of this country.

I keep wondering how this second in the Thresholds series is going to end, also. It's like my department chair said -- I am playing with fire. But dammit, this is me. This is my life. And since the fire I'm not letting life pass me by. I am participating in it fully.

And this means getting out the creative aspect of my twisted persona. Maybe my story will inspire other teachers to try to excel in the midst of chaos. Maybe my story will touch one other person who hasn't been able to label their depression. Maybe the damn thing will make one person laugh.

Anyway, in spite of the fact that I don't have HUGE stars this year like Steakboy, Jedi and Pi, I do have kids with motivation and talent. I've trained these new editors, and they know their stuff well -- as a team they can function and produce and I'm not worried this year much.

I still will lose money in yearbook, and Mike will have to bail me out. I still will be selling chocolate instead of surviving only on ads in newspaper. But I have a bounce in my step and an appreciation of my colleagues and students. Couldn't ask for more.

Poop Diet Results

Well, after taking these Acai berry pills for 3/4 of a month, I'm happy to report that I broke even.

It was serious hell. The shits you get with the colon cleanse AND the acai berry combination are unbelievable. Runny and gross -- especially when combined with female problems on top of it. NOT a pretty sight, and I'll censor the rest of this description right here.

But, I lost 15 lbs. It was a miracle. We had our family portrait taken when I was at my lowest, which was fortuitous. THEN, just as miraculously, I gained it all but 4 lbs. back. I got stuck in this vicious cycle: starve myself all day because the pills truly take away your appetite. Normally, I don't eat until noon, so I'd take the pills 30 minutes before lunch, and then barely eat anything.

Come supper-time (yes, I'm from the sticks) I'm not hungry still, and take the second set of pills for the day. But around bed-time you are ravenously hungry and that's when I would munch. It does take away your cravings for carbs, but I would find myself choking them down somehow.

Anyway. Fast forward three weeks, and the scale suddenly jumps up. It's like once the colon was cleansed, the weight just started to pack on even though I felt starvation all day long.

So I said fuck the pills, and just went back to normal. I've maintained this -4 pound differential for a week or so, so at least I'm not gaining the full 15 back again. I blame it on being peri-menopausal; I've been having symptoms of that.

Fun shit. LOL. I accidentally made a punny.

Reminiscing

Been reading the first Thresholds as I prepare it for publication, and it's fun to take a trip down memory lane. But I'm concerned that I have strayed a bit from my initial goals.

At first, this blog was about my failed attempts to teach journalism to some very bright students. I wanted to capture my angst as I tried to learn those programs-that-shall-not-be named...I wanted to show how public education in my world is as much about sex, drugs and rock-n-roll as it is about classroom management. I wanted to paint a picture of this innocent school in the Heartland of the USA that made your eyes pop out of your head and your ears scream.

But in this second blook, I have strayed from the original mission. I have had to process this thing called life: perhaps I have grown up or at least am attempting to do so. That silly fire has turned everything upside down.

Oh well, I go back to work in one week from tomorrow, so this blog shall most likely get back on track. But I kinda like the diversion of the last 6 months, to tell the truth. I think it shows that Delani has depth of character...or that she has really good brain drugs.

Drum roll please.....school year #5 is about to start. Will my new technology arrive before school starts? Will my class sizes have reduced to match my available technology? Will my classes control me or will I finally learn to be the head mother fucker in charge?

Well, one thing hasn't changed. I still can curse like a truck driver, as my mother used to tell me. Sounds like shit and doesn't do a damn bit of good. But it's real, at least. People talk like this in my world, how about yours?

Dreams

I've been having a sort of recurring theme in my dreams over the past few months. Either I'm at work, like some twisted workplace that reminds me of former jobs, or I'm at a huge talent show where I'm either performing or watching. But what is strange is that I am always lugging around a bunch of junk: my purse, which perpetually gets lost, or boxes of clothes and other personal belongings -- and I always lose everything. I can't find my car half the time in the big city that is always involved, and my purse is never with me.

It just hit me that this might be angst from the fire. Both my husband and I have been very emotional lately, and we cry easily now. We didn't cry over the fire immediately, but maybe that dissociation is finally wearing off and we are now FEELING.

It makes sense that I keep losing everything in my dreams -- I DID lose everything a few months ago. I feel frustrated in the dream, and I wake up in a cold sweat (well, that could be peri-menopausal) and all wound up. Last night, I went to bed at 9 PM because the boys were out camping. I woke up at 12:00 and 2:00 and 5:30 -- finally sleeping a bit more until 7 AM.

So, what is my psyche trying to tell me about my future? Or is it just ruminating on the past? I need a sign, dammit -- just like when I had to get my red light adjusted on the car because it wasn't giving me proper warning when I was about to run out of gas.

Oh well, it's not like I'm getting murdered or murdering other people in them, so I got THAT going for me. I'm not falling off of the building and landing SPLAT on the ground, so I also got that going for me. But why the obsession on stuff? Why do I always lose my purse? Maybe it's because my Elvis purse was my only possession after the fire, and I did buy a larger one shortly after so I could carry more stuff in it. Hmmmmmmmm.

If anyone can help me figure out my twisted brain waves, please give me a shout-out.

Until then, happy dreams!

Legends and Harleys

I live in a very small town in the Midwest: under 1,000 people. We have to go to the post office to get our mail, and there is one small grocery store in town. We love it, after living in the capital city for years....our son has the run of the town and we have peace of mind.

But our town gets invaded weekly for "bike night" where the Harleys rumble into town and park downtown. We have live bands every Wednesday night for it, and we can sit on our front porch and jam out. This phenomenon has taken over the Midwest actually -- there are a dozen or so such bike nights in the area that last throughout the summer. Nothing like the roar of an American-made motorcycle to get your innards scrambled.

Last night was a bit different, however. We had a huge bike ride from a nearby town that ended here at the local bar, with several bands playing. The headliner was fucking Edgar Winter...that's right, the albino blues legend himself. Right here in small-town USA. We just walked the two blocks to the bar, walked right in and up front to the stage. We took both our sons and a couple friends, and we jammed the night away. From "Frankenstein" to "Free Ride", this man rocked our socks right off. He was the first to strap on a keyboard, and even played a couple songs with his brother Johnny at freaking Woodstock.

So, after I pooped out my Acai berry, I slept like a baby last night, with visions of a white-haired virtuoso dancing in my head. Of course, the thunderous sound of the Harleys is always in the background -- and my hips still feel the swing of the blues.

AHhhhhhhhhhhh, summer is so good for the soul. It purges old memories and washes the senses with sunshine and rainbows. What fire? What school? What responsibilities?

Think I'll bottle this feeling up and store it away for winter like a squirrell. My cheeks are full of nuts right now and I like it.