I am at the start of a tip to toe inspection by the doctors in my life. Today was trip 1 which resulted in appointments for trips 2, 3, and 4.
I am resuming my hate-hate relationship with fluorescent lights. I hate them and they hate me right back. Really, isn’t the whole ordeal at the doctor’s tough enough without the fluorescent lighting? Couldn’t they add a small table lamp, a floor rug for ambience? And instead of making me wear a paper doll outfit, they could provide a fuzzy blanket to wrap up in while I wait. I put my coat on after a while it was so dang cold in there! (Cue the visual) I had to wait long enough to read 5 long chapters in my book.
It’s tough waiting on the doctor. My appointment was for 330pm and I didn’t leave until 5. As I sat there in the igloo-ish exam room wrapped in paper towels and working hard to tamp down my frustration, I had the following thoughts: “Okay, this is not news. I know that afternoon appointments always have a wait because he’s had all day to get behind. I knew this coming in, I was ready for this.”
Then, one of the other girls who live inside me spoke up, “But damn, this is ridiculous, making me wait in here on ice for 25 minutes! My time counts too! I’m gonna have to say something.”
But, then again, do I really want to antagonize this particular guy? No, that answer is a definitive no. I want this guy in a good mood and I want a good relationship with him. I want to make this guy my one-stop-shop for personal health from this point on, the one who knows all. And that's the rub! He holds all the cards! He gets to keep me waiting for geological periods of time and then come sailing in all breezy and smiling because he knows I need him happy.
But I do like him, he’s nice. He’s thorough and compassionate and kind and he takes time with me and makes eye contact and shakes my hand and pats my back. He even prayed with me at my last visit in mid-March. I was blubbering on his exam table, he was probably praying for himself as much as for me, but still, he held my hands and bowed his head on my account.
This time he didn’t pray (I wasn’t crying either), but he did say, “I will take care of your physical health, but I urge you, if you haven’t already, to take care of your spiritual health as well and find a home church to attend.” (I didn’t think it necessary to discuss my theories of “church on the bike.”) What a way to disarm a frozen popsicle of a mad patient.
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
What It Feels Like....
....To Jump From A Plane
When I was…? Must’ve been shortly after I turned 26, so that was 1991…In 1991, I jumped out of a plane 7 times. Why 7 times? Did I suddenly wise up? No, I had to do it at least 7 times because up until the 6th time I was on a static line and on the 7th time I got to pull my own ripcord and decide how long I wanted to free fall all by myself. Sitting here now in my overstuffed chair, the reason this was important to me escapes me, but at the time, it was a pressing issue.
A group of us somehow came to the conclusion that skydiving was just the ticket for us! We needed a good adrenaline rush, right? Why not, right? Hey, none of us had kids yet, right? Like that’s the one weighty factor in deciding whether to hurl oneself out of an airplane or not. “Don’t have kids? Might as well…” One thing led to another, somebody found a place (Rome Airport), somebody else made the reservations, and the next thing you know, we were all zooming up I-75 to pay for the privilege of taking our lives into our hands.
We had to take a class that lasted all day long. It was a real buzz killer too because were all hopped up for days before hand and the waiting was torture. Having to sit through the tedious details like learning how to deploy your backup chute or how to untangle your chute if necessary was just like standing there asking us repeatedly, “Are you sure? Are you SURE NOW?” We didn’t get into a plane until sometime around 5pm. It was November, so light was an issue at that point, but we were adamant that we get our jump in THAT DAY (“I already planned suicide for today; really I can’t work anything in tomorrow”).
So, up we went in a rickety little 4 seater, with a pilot, a jump instructor, and four jumpers all crammed in. They taught us that the heaviest goes out first. The plane rocked when he let go. I went next to last, thankyouverymuch. Ching (his nickname, I can’t even remember my pal’s real name) was one of those suuuuuuper skinny guys whose waist was like…27 inches, so he weighed less than me and got to go last. When you go up in the little plane, everyone sits on the floor except the pilot ( did I mention they have taken the seats out?). T he door is open the entire time and it’s really noisy and the floor shakes, well, the whole plane shakes, and it feels like you’re getting blown all over the sky. We jumpers had to wear, what else? Jumpsuits. Goggles. An altimeter on our wrists. And a helmet so that after you slammed yourself into the earth you could still have an open casket. No, just kidding. Skydiving is just ripe for the picking in the area of sarcastic remarks. I’m sure it was veeerrry safe. As safe as it could be anyway.
The plan was that you, the jumper, get into position by the open door, facing the front. There’s a jump instructor there facing you and you have to maintain eye contact with him AT ALL TIMES (do the little “my eyes to your eyes” army type sign). This guy was a real maniac, really just live. You could see the whites all around the iris' of his eyes. You’re up there; the jump instructor is watching the earth below to wait until just the right moment when the plane is over the appropriate jump zone to get you started. Once you’re in the right spot in the air with this giant field that’s behind the airport right under the plane, you are supposed to climb out on the wheel well, and place your hands on the strut on top of the day-glo orange spray-painted hands (this tells you you are in the exact right spot to LET GO).
Of course, you haven’t broken eye contact with Crazed Intense Guy yet. When he gives you “the sign” which was a macho, slingshot-style point straight at you, you’re supposed to let go. Your line is hooked in the plane, so after about 10 seconds, your ripcord is pulled and you float on down. First guy goes. SUCCESS! We all leaned over to watch his descent out the open door (my stomach was so wrenched at this point, I could’ve yakked right into mid-air) and the little tricks he did with his parachute like spiraling or closing it for a faster ride….cool. He lived. Next.
I was third. I did not let go on the first pass. We were “only” up about 3,500 feet, but it was far enough for me to not see things on the ground unless they were moving. Little cars were inching by over on the highway very far below me. I got out on the wheel well. I put my hands on the hands. I kept eye contact “my eyes/your eyes/my eyes.” I got the signal, “GO!”
And I stood there.
I was crazy-glued to that plane I tell you. Nothing on God’s green earth had prepared me to voluntarily fly through space. Especially not the 7 hour class and Mr. Wild Eyes over there. The Crazed One stuck his neck out and widened his eyes at me, “You’re not serious, right?” I cringed at him, “Sorry?” I had to stand out there while they made another pass at the field.
Okay, I’m ready, I WANT to do this, I WILL do this. I stepped back off the wheel well and now my feet were literally flying behind me in midair. I was actually hanging off of an airplane. He gave me the go sign again and I paused. It was his next facial expression that forced me off that wing.
So, there I went, like a sky-born starfish and I’m sure my mouth was in a silent “O.” Then, yank, stop, float. It all went as planned. I spiraled a few times. I “flared” a time or two…that made it go super fast and made me, impossibly, more scared. I actually finally got a little bored. That’s quite a combination, to be simultaneously bored and terrified at the same time. Down, down, down, away from the highway over there, center, center….try to get closer to the hangar so I won’t have so far to carry this giant billow of slippery cloth so far….FLARE…and…ahhh. Good landing.
It was ridiculously thrilling and I felt like I had 3 extra pints of blood whooshing all around inside me. It was weird to land all alone. You want to turn to someone right away and squeeze the innards out of them, but you have to gather up the whole giant production of cloth and slog across the field to where everyone else is waiting. THEN, it was a huge celebration.
We waited for all 98 pounds of Ching to drift out of the sky and then assaulted the first steak place we saw on our way home. I think it was a Golden Corral. Good times. Oh yeah, did that 6 more times, then pulled my own ripcord from almost 10,000 feet, got REALLY bored on that ride down, logged it in my little book and QUIT! Crossed it off the list.
When I was…? Must’ve been shortly after I turned 26, so that was 1991…In 1991, I jumped out of a plane 7 times. Why 7 times? Did I suddenly wise up? No, I had to do it at least 7 times because up until the 6th time I was on a static line and on the 7th time I got to pull my own ripcord and decide how long I wanted to free fall all by myself. Sitting here now in my overstuffed chair, the reason this was important to me escapes me, but at the time, it was a pressing issue.
A group of us somehow came to the conclusion that skydiving was just the ticket for us! We needed a good adrenaline rush, right? Why not, right? Hey, none of us had kids yet, right? Like that’s the one weighty factor in deciding whether to hurl oneself out of an airplane or not. “Don’t have kids? Might as well…” One thing led to another, somebody found a place (Rome Airport), somebody else made the reservations, and the next thing you know, we were all zooming up I-75 to pay for the privilege of taking our lives into our hands.
We had to take a class that lasted all day long. It was a real buzz killer too because were all hopped up for days before hand and the waiting was torture. Having to sit through the tedious details like learning how to deploy your backup chute or how to untangle your chute if necessary was just like standing there asking us repeatedly, “Are you sure? Are you SURE NOW?” We didn’t get into a plane until sometime around 5pm. It was November, so light was an issue at that point, but we were adamant that we get our jump in THAT DAY (“I already planned suicide for today; really I can’t work anything in tomorrow”).
So, up we went in a rickety little 4 seater, with a pilot, a jump instructor, and four jumpers all crammed in. They taught us that the heaviest goes out first. The plane rocked when he let go. I went next to last, thankyouverymuch. Ching (his nickname, I can’t even remember my pal’s real name) was one of those suuuuuuper skinny guys whose waist was like…27 inches, so he weighed less than me and got to go last. When you go up in the little plane, everyone sits on the floor except the pilot ( did I mention they have taken the seats out?). T he door is open the entire time and it’s really noisy and the floor shakes, well, the whole plane shakes, and it feels like you’re getting blown all over the sky. We jumpers had to wear, what else? Jumpsuits. Goggles. An altimeter on our wrists. And a helmet so that after you slammed yourself into the earth you could still have an open casket. No, just kidding. Skydiving is just ripe for the picking in the area of sarcastic remarks. I’m sure it was veeerrry safe. As safe as it could be anyway.
The plan was that you, the jumper, get into position by the open door, facing the front. There’s a jump instructor there facing you and you have to maintain eye contact with him AT ALL TIMES (do the little “my eyes to your eyes” army type sign). This guy was a real maniac, really just live. You could see the whites all around the iris' of his eyes. You’re up there; the jump instructor is watching the earth below to wait until just the right moment when the plane is over the appropriate jump zone to get you started. Once you’re in the right spot in the air with this giant field that’s behind the airport right under the plane, you are supposed to climb out on the wheel well, and place your hands on the strut on top of the day-glo orange spray-painted hands (this tells you you are in the exact right spot to LET GO).
Of course, you haven’t broken eye contact with Crazed Intense Guy yet. When he gives you “the sign” which was a macho, slingshot-style point straight at you, you’re supposed to let go. Your line is hooked in the plane, so after about 10 seconds, your ripcord is pulled and you float on down. First guy goes. SUCCESS! We all leaned over to watch his descent out the open door (my stomach was so wrenched at this point, I could’ve yakked right into mid-air) and the little tricks he did with his parachute like spiraling or closing it for a faster ride….cool. He lived. Next.
I was third. I did not let go on the first pass. We were “only” up about 3,500 feet, but it was far enough for me to not see things on the ground unless they were moving. Little cars were inching by over on the highway very far below me. I got out on the wheel well. I put my hands on the hands. I kept eye contact “my eyes/your eyes/my eyes.” I got the signal, “GO!”
And I stood there.
I was crazy-glued to that plane I tell you. Nothing on God’s green earth had prepared me to voluntarily fly through space. Especially not the 7 hour class and Mr. Wild Eyes over there. The Crazed One stuck his neck out and widened his eyes at me, “You’re not serious, right?” I cringed at him, “Sorry?” I had to stand out there while they made another pass at the field.
Okay, I’m ready, I WANT to do this, I WILL do this. I stepped back off the wheel well and now my feet were literally flying behind me in midair. I was actually hanging off of an airplane. He gave me the go sign again and I paused. It was his next facial expression that forced me off that wing.
So, there I went, like a sky-born starfish and I’m sure my mouth was in a silent “O.” Then, yank, stop, float. It all went as planned. I spiraled a few times. I “flared” a time or two…that made it go super fast and made me, impossibly, more scared. I actually finally got a little bored. That’s quite a combination, to be simultaneously bored and terrified at the same time. Down, down, down, away from the highway over there, center, center….try to get closer to the hangar so I won’t have so far to carry this giant billow of slippery cloth so far….FLARE…and…ahhh. Good landing.
It was ridiculously thrilling and I felt like I had 3 extra pints of blood whooshing all around inside me. It was weird to land all alone. You want to turn to someone right away and squeeze the innards out of them, but you have to gather up the whole giant production of cloth and slog across the field to where everyone else is waiting. THEN, it was a huge celebration.
We waited for all 98 pounds of Ching to drift out of the sky and then assaulted the first steak place we saw on our way home. I think it was a Golden Corral. Good times. Oh yeah, did that 6 more times, then pulled my own ripcord from almost 10,000 feet, got REALLY bored on that ride down, logged it in my little book and QUIT! Crossed it off the list.
A Sheepish Look and a Letter to G.
Sheepish Look and a letter to G.
Wednesday, March 25, 2009 at 10:54am
That is what is on my face as I tell you that I can not find the CD you made for me! I am so mad at myself and the kids and dogs and all the crap that sucks junk under it around here! I got your sweet package and immediately put the magnet front and center on our fridge. Had a discussion with Bobby about our dorm room and how you had really progressive musical tastes and broke me out of my Go-Go's type preferences and took me to where Squeeze and the Psychedelic Furs lived. How utterly cool you were....
I had plans to listen to the CD while I did my giant paper for school, then download a bunch of stuff to my IPod. Can not find it anywhere. Grrrr. I'm hoping it turns up with all the papers I'm supposed to sign and return to school, yearbook payment slips, and requests to pledge money for the Boosterthon...and any extra socks it might meet along the way.
In a house with a family, nothing stays where you put it. The most frustrating is when I am the one who moves it and then can't remember where I moved it. Or when I put it somewhere purposely in plain sight, but then someone puts something of theirs on top so I can't see my important stuff anymore. I suppose this might be an indicator that I should tidy up a tad. Get rid of perhaps 10 or more of the "piles" that have their regular spots on my counters....You know it's bad when you look for the phone and find it in the garage freezer (yes, I did that) or your keys are on the pantry shelf, or the butter is in the pantry and the peanut butter is in the fridge. Aging combined with sloppiness makes you doubt your sanity all the way around. I will continue to scour piles and check under things...
All this to say, thank you my sweet and thoughtful friend. That you took the time to think about music relevant to us, burn it for me, and then actually SEND IT via US Mail.....these days, that is just such a huge gift. I appreciate all the effort and love. I know it's weird, but this FB connection has come to mean something to me. With you, and also with a few other people that I knew along the way who have now found me again, the notes, little "chats" one-line support comments and inclusion have made me feel pretty damn good about the people in my life. Yes, the whole thing can get silly, but overall, under the surface crapola, I feel some nice support and care coming at me. And even though I have F2F friends, to actually talk to, doing so with a dozen or more on a regular basis is hard, but to do this form of communicating lets me sort of keep a hand in on the bigger picture and zoom in on the finer details...Anyway, I am glad to know you are in my "out there."
The hub landed a new job on Monday. The nutshell: he was laid off on Dec. 18th, networked himself a made up gig for 90 days where the VP of Sales told him, "You have 90 days to prove that we need you full time. Uh, starting now!" It was about half his normal salary, but taxed at 25% b/c they 1099'd him, so we've been dogpaddling, not looking to closely at how we've held it all together for fear it might collapse under inspection! Thankful for the opportunity and the money in the consulting type gig, he continued to network and interview so as to hedge his bets and to take a position with no time frame parameters. Found this opportunity and has been interviewing. Finally, it got down to him and one other guy. He had to fly up to Minn/Minn on Mon. for the last round of interviews with the board. They finished and took him to the airport that afternoon. While he was at his gate, they called him asking if he could stay a few more days..."Um, well, I have no clothing, just my briefcase, this suit, and my laptop...I wasn't prepared to, but why?" "For training." Oh. Well, in that case, okie dokie. So they took him out that night to shop for a few days worth of casual clothes and he returns on Thursday. Tomorrow. !!! Big sigh of relief. I have learned not to look too far ahead in life because the freak out factor is very, very high right now. Must take life in small chunks to make it more palatable.
In the meantime, while I was in the frantic, "Oh shit, we're gonna have to live under a bridge" mode, I applied to a wide variety of positions including, but not limited to, Gwinnet County Police Officer and school bus driver. My only criteria was that it could not involve cooking or cleaning, otherwise I was up for it. Risking my life and chasing felons with guns? I'm there. Being responsible for 30 or 40 children's lives? Sign me up. I figured I could do anything for a year or so while I finish my master's. And when the chips are down (and boy were they down this time), I will do anything necessary to keep my family afloat.
I did get the call from the Police Department last week to remember to come to the Job Fair. Since I'd already done most of the application online, I was "forwarded" to the front of their line so-to-speak and if I came to the Job Fair, I'd just have to get the last little bit in order. I think I could've done it. And if I just did it for a year or so, I bet it wouldn't have changed me much! I can just see me coming home and laying my police belt on the kitchen table while I went through my first grader's Friday Folder!!! Oh, the incongruence of it all! Cooking while in uniform! Folding clothes in my bullet proof vest! It was funny and serious all at the same time. We do what we have to do, no?In the midst of all this my sister got her diagnosis, so it's been a surreal winter. The new green of spring is very symbolic to me!
Oddly enough, I have been substitute teaching and find myself really getting wrapped up in these kids. I keep thinking I might write a book and call it "The Sub!" Really, it breaks the little capsule I've been living in wide open. I mean, we all know theoretically that we are "blessed," yes, the trite, "so fortunate," but to sidle up next to a kid and his story for a little while can make me cry, make me furious on the kids' behalf, make me laugh at what they say, make me hug them, make me want to send home a note...wash their clothes, wipe their eyes...it makes me care a lot about what's going on with them. And I've never been what you'd call a lover of kids in general! If they're likable, I like 'em, but if they're not, I don't like them on the vague principle that they are children. I have liked my own and could take or leave the rest! So, this is a v. good experience for me.
Two funny things: While teaching rhyming words to kindergartners, don't teach them to go through the alphabet with you out loud as a group unless you are 100% sure of where it might lead. "Right! Good job Tyler, truck does rhyme with duck! And what else rhymes with duck?...." Um, moving right along...next word please.
AND when talking about the sounds of letters and words that start with the given letter, attempt to know each child's living situation..."Who can tell me another word that starts with L? Bradley?" He pipes up loud and proud, "LESBIAN!!" Um, yes, correct Bradley, but also lady, luck, lean..." They all think I'm related to Lizzie McGuire.
School is plugging right along. I'm on the road. I don't know when the road stops, I just keep walking! I THINK I might finish in a year or so. I do my first colloquia (or residency or whatever they call it, it seems to have several names) in June and this one is in Atlanta for a week. That's sort of the halfway point. I have been off my bike for the better part of three months and have lost alot of ground there. Two bouts of bronchitis this winter plus cold-weather asthma do not an active winter make. I went out on Saturday with my triathlete friend for a ride. I told her the only way I would go with her was if she would leave me when I started to suck. But she wouldn't leave! There's this Marine style mentality on rides, "Never leave anyone behind!" I felt bad that I was holding her back, but she came forewarned. When we got back to the shop I was telliing one of the guys there that I was Mindy's wheel-sucker friend and she rips off, "You have to be NEAR my wheel to be a wheel-sucker!" Too funny. I told her that belongs on the back of a shirt.
Whoa, I've been typing a stream of consciousness (or unconsciousness as the case may be)! Time to switch it over to you back in the booth G! What does G do for herself these days? What do you do for your heart and soul? I thought about you when ColdPlay was in town, remembering that the last time I saw you, you were fresh off their concert. I think of you with your guitar, like one of your profile pix, strumming and being happy...
Wednesday, March 25, 2009 at 10:54am
That is what is on my face as I tell you that I can not find the CD you made for me! I am so mad at myself and the kids and dogs and all the crap that sucks junk under it around here! I got your sweet package and immediately put the magnet front and center on our fridge. Had a discussion with Bobby about our dorm room and how you had really progressive musical tastes and broke me out of my Go-Go's type preferences and took me to where Squeeze and the Psychedelic Furs lived. How utterly cool you were....
I had plans to listen to the CD while I did my giant paper for school, then download a bunch of stuff to my IPod. Can not find it anywhere. Grrrr. I'm hoping it turns up with all the papers I'm supposed to sign and return to school, yearbook payment slips, and requests to pledge money for the Boosterthon...and any extra socks it might meet along the way.
In a house with a family, nothing stays where you put it. The most frustrating is when I am the one who moves it and then can't remember where I moved it. Or when I put it somewhere purposely in plain sight, but then someone puts something of theirs on top so I can't see my important stuff anymore. I suppose this might be an indicator that I should tidy up a tad. Get rid of perhaps 10 or more of the "piles" that have their regular spots on my counters....You know it's bad when you look for the phone and find it in the garage freezer (yes, I did that) or your keys are on the pantry shelf, or the butter is in the pantry and the peanut butter is in the fridge. Aging combined with sloppiness makes you doubt your sanity all the way around. I will continue to scour piles and check under things...
All this to say, thank you my sweet and thoughtful friend. That you took the time to think about music relevant to us, burn it for me, and then actually SEND IT via US Mail.....these days, that is just such a huge gift. I appreciate all the effort and love. I know it's weird, but this FB connection has come to mean something to me. With you, and also with a few other people that I knew along the way who have now found me again, the notes, little "chats" one-line support comments and inclusion have made me feel pretty damn good about the people in my life. Yes, the whole thing can get silly, but overall, under the surface crapola, I feel some nice support and care coming at me. And even though I have F2F friends, to actually talk to, doing so with a dozen or more on a regular basis is hard, but to do this form of communicating lets me sort of keep a hand in on the bigger picture and zoom in on the finer details...Anyway, I am glad to know you are in my "out there."
The hub landed a new job on Monday. The nutshell: he was laid off on Dec. 18th, networked himself a made up gig for 90 days where the VP of Sales told him, "You have 90 days to prove that we need you full time. Uh, starting now!" It was about half his normal salary, but taxed at 25% b/c they 1099'd him, so we've been dogpaddling, not looking to closely at how we've held it all together for fear it might collapse under inspection! Thankful for the opportunity and the money in the consulting type gig, he continued to network and interview so as to hedge his bets and to take a position with no time frame parameters. Found this opportunity and has been interviewing. Finally, it got down to him and one other guy. He had to fly up to Minn/Minn on Mon. for the last round of interviews with the board. They finished and took him to the airport that afternoon. While he was at his gate, they called him asking if he could stay a few more days..."Um, well, I have no clothing, just my briefcase, this suit, and my laptop...I wasn't prepared to, but why?" "For training." Oh. Well, in that case, okie dokie. So they took him out that night to shop for a few days worth of casual clothes and he returns on Thursday. Tomorrow. !!! Big sigh of relief. I have learned not to look too far ahead in life because the freak out factor is very, very high right now. Must take life in small chunks to make it more palatable.
In the meantime, while I was in the frantic, "Oh shit, we're gonna have to live under a bridge" mode, I applied to a wide variety of positions including, but not limited to, Gwinnet County Police Officer and school bus driver. My only criteria was that it could not involve cooking or cleaning, otherwise I was up for it. Risking my life and chasing felons with guns? I'm there. Being responsible for 30 or 40 children's lives? Sign me up. I figured I could do anything for a year or so while I finish my master's. And when the chips are down (and boy were they down this time), I will do anything necessary to keep my family afloat.
I did get the call from the Police Department last week to remember to come to the Job Fair. Since I'd already done most of the application online, I was "forwarded" to the front of their line so-to-speak and if I came to the Job Fair, I'd just have to get the last little bit in order. I think I could've done it. And if I just did it for a year or so, I bet it wouldn't have changed me much! I can just see me coming home and laying my police belt on the kitchen table while I went through my first grader's Friday Folder!!! Oh, the incongruence of it all! Cooking while in uniform! Folding clothes in my bullet proof vest! It was funny and serious all at the same time. We do what we have to do, no?In the midst of all this my sister got her diagnosis, so it's been a surreal winter. The new green of spring is very symbolic to me!
Oddly enough, I have been substitute teaching and find myself really getting wrapped up in these kids. I keep thinking I might write a book and call it "The Sub!" Really, it breaks the little capsule I've been living in wide open. I mean, we all know theoretically that we are "blessed," yes, the trite, "so fortunate," but to sidle up next to a kid and his story for a little while can make me cry, make me furious on the kids' behalf, make me laugh at what they say, make me hug them, make me want to send home a note...wash their clothes, wipe their eyes...it makes me care a lot about what's going on with them. And I've never been what you'd call a lover of kids in general! If they're likable, I like 'em, but if they're not, I don't like them on the vague principle that they are children. I have liked my own and could take or leave the rest! So, this is a v. good experience for me.
Two funny things: While teaching rhyming words to kindergartners, don't teach them to go through the alphabet with you out loud as a group unless you are 100% sure of where it might lead. "Right! Good job Tyler, truck does rhyme with duck! And what else rhymes with duck?...." Um, moving right along...next word please.
AND when talking about the sounds of letters and words that start with the given letter, attempt to know each child's living situation..."Who can tell me another word that starts with L? Bradley?" He pipes up loud and proud, "LESBIAN!!" Um, yes, correct Bradley, but also lady, luck, lean..." They all think I'm related to Lizzie McGuire.
School is plugging right along. I'm on the road. I don't know when the road stops, I just keep walking! I THINK I might finish in a year or so. I do my first colloquia (or residency or whatever they call it, it seems to have several names) in June and this one is in Atlanta for a week. That's sort of the halfway point. I have been off my bike for the better part of three months and have lost alot of ground there. Two bouts of bronchitis this winter plus cold-weather asthma do not an active winter make. I went out on Saturday with my triathlete friend for a ride. I told her the only way I would go with her was if she would leave me when I started to suck. But she wouldn't leave! There's this Marine style mentality on rides, "Never leave anyone behind!" I felt bad that I was holding her back, but she came forewarned. When we got back to the shop I was telliing one of the guys there that I was Mindy's wheel-sucker friend and she rips off, "You have to be NEAR my wheel to be a wheel-sucker!" Too funny. I told her that belongs on the back of a shirt.
Whoa, I've been typing a stream of consciousness (or unconsciousness as the case may be)! Time to switch it over to you back in the booth G! What does G do for herself these days? What do you do for your heart and soul? I thought about you when ColdPlay was in town, remembering that the last time I saw you, you were fresh off their concert. I think of you with your guitar, like one of your profile pix, strumming and being happy...
Rules Do Not Apply
April 9, 2009
I took the boys and two of their friends to Six Flags yesterday. Me and 5 boys. We were there from open til close and I’m sore today from all the walking. Why I can ride my bike crazy distances with little achiness but a day in the amusement park kills me, I don’t know. I had to have little mental realignments all day long in regards to money, time, and other people’s rudeness. Regarding the money and time, I think the only thing you can do on a “fun” day out with the kids is to treat it like Vegas: this amount of money is imaginarily burned, don’t ask where it goes and don’t try to find deals, and looking at the clock is against the rules. More on the rudeness thing in a bit.
In case there’s any blessed soul out there who has not been to Six Flags in oh, about the last dozen years or so, a cheeseburger meal for four will cost around $50. You now are forced to rent lockers for your backsacks, packs, purses, or gear. Used to be you could just cross thru the coaster car and toss your stuff onto a boxed shelf, ride, and pick it up at the end. No more. Must rent locker. Even with discounts, tickets and parking are $150. I won’t bore you with any more price breakdowns, but it was hard to open my purse each time I had to. “Just do it and don’t look. Don’t look! Don’t think about it! Let it go!” A PIECE of pizza was $8. Okay, okay, sorry.
Time. My oldest son and his buddy entered the gates with me and I didn’t see him again until I met him at the fountains to go home. They went immediately to Goliath (biggest honking coaster in the park. You spend all day walking under its’ shadows) and spent, get ready you won’t believe it…FOUR HOURS waiting to ride. Colossal bad choice. Monumental waste of time. He was breathless when we spoke by cell, “Oh Mom, it was so worth it!” I had to dig really deep not to lecture. “It’s not my day, he had a blast, don’t go there, doesn’t matter, it’s not my day, it’s not my day.” I kept trying not to do any math equations like: gate fee divided by time spent in the park equals dollar amount wasted, or amount of time available in park minus 4 ridiculous hours equals only 6 more hours to ride anything else, eat, and walk from thing to thing…Let it go. Oh that was super hard.
My middle son and his friend were on an “every 2 hours” check in schedule, so I saw more of him, but not much. Mainly at meals. I was partnered with my sweet 7 year old, Peyton. I tried to say YES and OKAY as much as possible to him. “Okay, we can ride the Log Jamboree again.” And again. And again. And again. In a row. “Yes, we can ride the Hanson Cars 4 times back to back.” “Okay, we’ll switch seats this time.” Kids hear no so often, it’s kind of fun to have a yes day. I tried halfheartedly to get him to ride something that would give me a pulse again, but the best I could get was the Scream Machine one time and he held his head afterwards and said, “Don’t make me ride that EVER AGAIN.” Bad mom. All those yeses didn’t buy me one guilt free ride.
Rudeness. Six Flags can be a scary place nowadays. Yes, there was a murder OUTSIDE the gates a couple years ago, but I have faith in the metal detectors and safety measures a big park like SF has in place to keep out the potential murder weapons. But lemme tell ya, just standing in line will make you reach for a heart pill even if you don’t take ‘em..
The line jumpers were crazy yesterday. When someone blatantly disregards the rules in place for everyone, it’s the beginning of chaos. For example, while in line, a guy walks by in the exit lane, sees his friends who were the 2 guys in front of me, and hops the little metal cattle herder fence to stand with them and ride again. Hmmm. Say nothing. “Let it go, let it go, let it go…” Time (which I am NOT keeping track of) goes by.
Now two girls go by in the exit lane, see the guys in front of me, and jump the line. Really. So I said something, “You’re kidding right? You are not jumping the line when you just got off, right?” This time it’s me and my middle son, his friend, and my trusty pal for the day, Peyton and we’ve been waiting a long time. These girls turned sloooowly around, dropped their chins, raised their eyebrows, and looked at me like I was the crazy one. So, I go, “Huh-uh, this isn’t happening, you girls need to go on to the back, you just got off.” First, they squirted out a little question of an apology, “Uhhh, sorry?” but they remained on the spot. I pointed to the back like I was telling my dog to go lay down. They asked, “Do you want to go in front of us?” “Uh, yeah, me and the other 150 people behind me would like to go in front of you.” They slunk away and I felt like a real moron.
It was at this point, after I’d already quadrupled my blood pressure and risked whatever hell the two little wildcats unleashed, that the nice, big guy standing right behind me goes, “Yeah! They did need to go on to the back! You were right!” NOW you pipe up! Coulda used a little backup there fella.
What if they hadn’t backed down? What were my real options? You just have to trust that the power of the herd and the pull of obeying the rules will work. Later, my middle son and his buddy said the same thing happened to them except it was 5 girls this time. Andrew, the buddy, said something to them like, “You can’t jump the line, we’ve been waiting and that’s not fair.” They replied, “We just did, what are you gonna do about it?” Poor little guy. And no one else said a word. You know why? Because if you play several possible scenarios out to the end, there is no good result. The jumpers could get physical, or pull a weapon (their nails could have classified there). OR you have to leave the line to go find someone to tell which means you lose anyway.
I don’t know why, but this was just shocking to me. Face to face with people who felt as if the rules just do not apply. I think it was because it made me realize just how powerless we really are in these situations. Another type of helplessness like this is when someone just takes what they want from you. Robbery. Someone just decides they want your laptop that’s locked up in your car, so they break the glass and just take it. They just take what they want. They walk up to your house, smash a window and take what they want. Or they steal your identity and take what they want. And nothing really happens to them. Not really.
It makes me think of the traffic patterns in Tokyo or Hong Kong that they show on TV. Whenever that type of scene is flashed, it looks like there could not possibly be any suggested way for the traffic to flow because it’s utter chaos. Cars are mashed in every which way, not minding the rules, staying between a nice patient line painted on the road. Bicyclists are weaving around; motor scooters are jamming between the cars. It makes you think of how much trust we actually put in others to do the right thing.
My kids were frustrated by the flaunting of the rules. And even though I felt like a cartoon character whose scalp is about to explode off the top of her head, I tried to find some sort of slant to put on it to diffuse it all, “Y’know guys, this is a perfect example of doing the right thing even when no one is looking. You just do, you just do the right thing. And for the ones that don’t do the right thing? Well, say it with me guys, ‘You can’t control anyone but yourself.’” You just keep on doing the right thing and for the ones who don’t? Just let it go.
I took the boys and two of their friends to Six Flags yesterday. Me and 5 boys. We were there from open til close and I’m sore today from all the walking. Why I can ride my bike crazy distances with little achiness but a day in the amusement park kills me, I don’t know. I had to have little mental realignments all day long in regards to money, time, and other people’s rudeness. Regarding the money and time, I think the only thing you can do on a “fun” day out with the kids is to treat it like Vegas: this amount of money is imaginarily burned, don’t ask where it goes and don’t try to find deals, and looking at the clock is against the rules. More on the rudeness thing in a bit.
In case there’s any blessed soul out there who has not been to Six Flags in oh, about the last dozen years or so, a cheeseburger meal for four will cost around $50. You now are forced to rent lockers for your backsacks, packs, purses, or gear. Used to be you could just cross thru the coaster car and toss your stuff onto a boxed shelf, ride, and pick it up at the end. No more. Must rent locker. Even with discounts, tickets and parking are $150. I won’t bore you with any more price breakdowns, but it was hard to open my purse each time I had to. “Just do it and don’t look. Don’t look! Don’t think about it! Let it go!” A PIECE of pizza was $8. Okay, okay, sorry.
Time. My oldest son and his buddy entered the gates with me and I didn’t see him again until I met him at the fountains to go home. They went immediately to Goliath (biggest honking coaster in the park. You spend all day walking under its’ shadows) and spent, get ready you won’t believe it…FOUR HOURS waiting to ride. Colossal bad choice. Monumental waste of time. He was breathless when we spoke by cell, “Oh Mom, it was so worth it!” I had to dig really deep not to lecture. “It’s not my day, he had a blast, don’t go there, doesn’t matter, it’s not my day, it’s not my day.” I kept trying not to do any math equations like: gate fee divided by time spent in the park equals dollar amount wasted, or amount of time available in park minus 4 ridiculous hours equals only 6 more hours to ride anything else, eat, and walk from thing to thing…Let it go. Oh that was super hard.
My middle son and his friend were on an “every 2 hours” check in schedule, so I saw more of him, but not much. Mainly at meals. I was partnered with my sweet 7 year old, Peyton. I tried to say YES and OKAY as much as possible to him. “Okay, we can ride the Log Jamboree again.” And again. And again. And again. In a row. “Yes, we can ride the Hanson Cars 4 times back to back.” “Okay, we’ll switch seats this time.” Kids hear no so often, it’s kind of fun to have a yes day. I tried halfheartedly to get him to ride something that would give me a pulse again, but the best I could get was the Scream Machine one time and he held his head afterwards and said, “Don’t make me ride that EVER AGAIN.” Bad mom. All those yeses didn’t buy me one guilt free ride.
Rudeness. Six Flags can be a scary place nowadays. Yes, there was a murder OUTSIDE the gates a couple years ago, but I have faith in the metal detectors and safety measures a big park like SF has in place to keep out the potential murder weapons. But lemme tell ya, just standing in line will make you reach for a heart pill even if you don’t take ‘em..
The line jumpers were crazy yesterday. When someone blatantly disregards the rules in place for everyone, it’s the beginning of chaos. For example, while in line, a guy walks by in the exit lane, sees his friends who were the 2 guys in front of me, and hops the little metal cattle herder fence to stand with them and ride again. Hmmm. Say nothing. “Let it go, let it go, let it go…” Time (which I am NOT keeping track of) goes by.
Now two girls go by in the exit lane, see the guys in front of me, and jump the line. Really. So I said something, “You’re kidding right? You are not jumping the line when you just got off, right?” This time it’s me and my middle son, his friend, and my trusty pal for the day, Peyton and we’ve been waiting a long time. These girls turned sloooowly around, dropped their chins, raised their eyebrows, and looked at me like I was the crazy one. So, I go, “Huh-uh, this isn’t happening, you girls need to go on to the back, you just got off.” First, they squirted out a little question of an apology, “Uhhh, sorry?” but they remained on the spot. I pointed to the back like I was telling my dog to go lay down. They asked, “Do you want to go in front of us?” “Uh, yeah, me and the other 150 people behind me would like to go in front of you.” They slunk away and I felt like a real moron.
It was at this point, after I’d already quadrupled my blood pressure and risked whatever hell the two little wildcats unleashed, that the nice, big guy standing right behind me goes, “Yeah! They did need to go on to the back! You were right!” NOW you pipe up! Coulda used a little backup there fella.
What if they hadn’t backed down? What were my real options? You just have to trust that the power of the herd and the pull of obeying the rules will work. Later, my middle son and his buddy said the same thing happened to them except it was 5 girls this time. Andrew, the buddy, said something to them like, “You can’t jump the line, we’ve been waiting and that’s not fair.” They replied, “We just did, what are you gonna do about it?” Poor little guy. And no one else said a word. You know why? Because if you play several possible scenarios out to the end, there is no good result. The jumpers could get physical, or pull a weapon (their nails could have classified there). OR you have to leave the line to go find someone to tell which means you lose anyway.
I don’t know why, but this was just shocking to me. Face to face with people who felt as if the rules just do not apply. I think it was because it made me realize just how powerless we really are in these situations. Another type of helplessness like this is when someone just takes what they want from you. Robbery. Someone just decides they want your laptop that’s locked up in your car, so they break the glass and just take it. They just take what they want. They walk up to your house, smash a window and take what they want. Or they steal your identity and take what they want. And nothing really happens to them. Not really.
It makes me think of the traffic patterns in Tokyo or Hong Kong that they show on TV. Whenever that type of scene is flashed, it looks like there could not possibly be any suggested way for the traffic to flow because it’s utter chaos. Cars are mashed in every which way, not minding the rules, staying between a nice patient line painted on the road. Bicyclists are weaving around; motor scooters are jamming between the cars. It makes you think of how much trust we actually put in others to do the right thing.
My kids were frustrated by the flaunting of the rules. And even though I felt like a cartoon character whose scalp is about to explode off the top of her head, I tried to find some sort of slant to put on it to diffuse it all, “Y’know guys, this is a perfect example of doing the right thing even when no one is looking. You just do, you just do the right thing. And for the ones that don’t do the right thing? Well, say it with me guys, ‘You can’t control anyone but yourself.’” You just keep on doing the right thing and for the ones who don’t? Just let it go.
Bad News Schleprock
There is a guy in my world, on the very outer periphery, but nonetheless in my world, whose vitriolic passions about society and politics color seemingly everything he does. Everything I see from him is about how awful everything is politically, economically, globally, and how one political party is full of trash-talking personal agenda promoters. It’s gotten to where I wish I’d never run across him again. Why, why, why do people let the world’s issues define them? Why would anyone choose to live in such frustration, helplessness, and anger? If “we are the world,” then I don’t want to be in his. Actually, I just quit his world, "de-friended" him on FaceBook.
Yes, the world is in a tight spot right now (as George Clooney’s character said in O Brother Where Art Thou?). We are in a tight spot. But don’t lose sight of the fact that the world has been jammed before and it will eventually smooth itself out again. Every decade there has been at least one, usually several, events that had major economic implications. Of course some have been larger than others, but if anyone took the time to go back through the cultural archives, they would see that there have been many, many times when our society felt as if the world had spun off its’ axis.
Based on everything I’ve read, the 60’s weren’t exactly the decade of rollicking good times despite the free love agenda. Remember Vietnam and Kent State? The assassination of two Kennedy's and a King? Desegregation and integration and bussing? I remember long lines of people in a mild panic waiting to fill their cars with gas back in the 1970’s. Remember Watergate? People seemed to be going off the hook back then and tossing aside decades of accumulated values for the fast and quick fix of easy sex or a temporary feeling of euphoria to stave off the feelings of darkness that hung over the world. You can go back through the Korean War, through WWII and all the fear of the nation and world at that time, back through the Civil War…back to the beginning of time and you would find that times have been generally challenging all the way around.
So why is this time different? Global economic leaders are publicly letting us down and showing a side of humanity we would all rather not face. But why should I let this define my smallish life down here in my little corner of the world? What if it all worked in reverse and the larger problems are simply mirrors of the problems of the smaller man and the problems in his life? Think about the guy you know who just divorced from his wife because of an affair. Think of the guy you know who just had his house foreclosed on because during a lovely time of euphoria and confidence he bought a house but forgot that he had to pay for the life that goes with the house. These are the same guys who work at the companies that are letting us down. Whether they’re in accounting or PR or if they’re the CEO, they bring their little life problems to the global table and that colors what they do there. Don’t you think that’s a fair assumption? Is the person who takes his company bonus, buys himself a Hummer, a beach house, and a new wife as the company tanks really the ethical corporate baron making decisions about how to handle our retirement money? Should he be running the company?
What if the world decided to approach the problem from a grass roots level and each individual person started trying to fix themselves first. Just tried to be the best person they could possibly be: the best friend, son, daughter, employee, father, mother…whatever the title, just to take it seriously and do what’s right for that position. Just do the right thing. Everyone knows what that feels like, you’re heart and body tell you when you’re behaving right or wrong, ethically or not so. If the little people like “us” can’t be trusted to handle our own smallish lives with some sort of reasonable attempt at doing the right thing, then how in the world can we expect the world to do so? We are the people that fill the companies, the elected offices, the boardrooms.
If the world is in crisis, then isn’t talking about it ad nauseum just fanning the flames? I really don’t’ see how knowledge of all the politicos and their stance on everything from taxes to out of wedlock child rearing has any place in my thoughts. I don’t really think that knowing what the Dow is on a daily basis is worth knowing, especially if it causes me angst. Why should I care? Wouldn’t I be better off worrying about if my kid is where he’s supposed to be? Or attempting to find the place of peaceful understanding with my sister or my husband? If I am made of energy, a fixed amount of energy, why would I give up a single scintilla of that to blunder on about people who don’t even touch my world? Yes, yes, for all you literals out there they touch my world, but not “my world.”
People can make themselves sick from soaking in all this toxicity. I like the method where you learn about what matters to you, put it away, and pull it out again in the voting booth. That’s the only thing we can do unless we choose to write a blog, become a lobbyist, run for office, support an office, or make some change that results in our being able to affect change on a very large scale. So far, I know of exactly one person who has done that. In my life, that is, just one. But boy do I know puh-lenty of people who love to stand around at parties, kids events, grocery stores, and any other place people talk and blather on incessantly about the “world crisis” and how bad it all is. Why in the world would we repeatedly harp on that disappointment? It’s like a cheated-on spouse who never stops “telling her story” to everyone she meets. That becomes who she is rather than just a part of her life.
Jeez, it’s tough, okay? It won’t be tough forever. It’s just history in the making, just a time to be gotten through. What will be happening next year at this time? Five years from now? People have slogged through life that’s been a thousand times tougher than it is right now, it’s been done hundreds of times before now, right? Why globalize what can be handled locally? We can’t really attend the G20 Summit now can we? I would bet this guy hasn’t even written a letter to the editor of the newspaper. He’s a critic just throwing more logs on the panic fire. What is to be gained by that I ask you? He can say he’s “up on all the news that matters,” “abreast of the current situation.” Big deal. I don’t really want to talk about that, do you? Does it feel good? These are the folks who will be cornering you at parties in 30 years to tell you all about their health. Find something that matters and fix THAT why don’t you?
Yes, the world is in a tight spot right now (as George Clooney’s character said in O Brother Where Art Thou?). We are in a tight spot. But don’t lose sight of the fact that the world has been jammed before and it will eventually smooth itself out again. Every decade there has been at least one, usually several, events that had major economic implications. Of course some have been larger than others, but if anyone took the time to go back through the cultural archives, they would see that there have been many, many times when our society felt as if the world had spun off its’ axis.
Based on everything I’ve read, the 60’s weren’t exactly the decade of rollicking good times despite the free love agenda. Remember Vietnam and Kent State? The assassination of two Kennedy's and a King? Desegregation and integration and bussing? I remember long lines of people in a mild panic waiting to fill their cars with gas back in the 1970’s. Remember Watergate? People seemed to be going off the hook back then and tossing aside decades of accumulated values for the fast and quick fix of easy sex or a temporary feeling of euphoria to stave off the feelings of darkness that hung over the world. You can go back through the Korean War, through WWII and all the fear of the nation and world at that time, back through the Civil War…back to the beginning of time and you would find that times have been generally challenging all the way around.
So why is this time different? Global economic leaders are publicly letting us down and showing a side of humanity we would all rather not face. But why should I let this define my smallish life down here in my little corner of the world? What if it all worked in reverse and the larger problems are simply mirrors of the problems of the smaller man and the problems in his life? Think about the guy you know who just divorced from his wife because of an affair. Think of the guy you know who just had his house foreclosed on because during a lovely time of euphoria and confidence he bought a house but forgot that he had to pay for the life that goes with the house. These are the same guys who work at the companies that are letting us down. Whether they’re in accounting or PR or if they’re the CEO, they bring their little life problems to the global table and that colors what they do there. Don’t you think that’s a fair assumption? Is the person who takes his company bonus, buys himself a Hummer, a beach house, and a new wife as the company tanks really the ethical corporate baron making decisions about how to handle our retirement money? Should he be running the company?
What if the world decided to approach the problem from a grass roots level and each individual person started trying to fix themselves first. Just tried to be the best person they could possibly be: the best friend, son, daughter, employee, father, mother…whatever the title, just to take it seriously and do what’s right for that position. Just do the right thing. Everyone knows what that feels like, you’re heart and body tell you when you’re behaving right or wrong, ethically or not so. If the little people like “us” can’t be trusted to handle our own smallish lives with some sort of reasonable attempt at doing the right thing, then how in the world can we expect the world to do so? We are the people that fill the companies, the elected offices, the boardrooms.
If the world is in crisis, then isn’t talking about it ad nauseum just fanning the flames? I really don’t’ see how knowledge of all the politicos and their stance on everything from taxes to out of wedlock child rearing has any place in my thoughts. I don’t really think that knowing what the Dow is on a daily basis is worth knowing, especially if it causes me angst. Why should I care? Wouldn’t I be better off worrying about if my kid is where he’s supposed to be? Or attempting to find the place of peaceful understanding with my sister or my husband? If I am made of energy, a fixed amount of energy, why would I give up a single scintilla of that to blunder on about people who don’t even touch my world? Yes, yes, for all you literals out there they touch my world, but not “my world.”
People can make themselves sick from soaking in all this toxicity. I like the method where you learn about what matters to you, put it away, and pull it out again in the voting booth. That’s the only thing we can do unless we choose to write a blog, become a lobbyist, run for office, support an office, or make some change that results in our being able to affect change on a very large scale. So far, I know of exactly one person who has done that. In my life, that is, just one. But boy do I know puh-lenty of people who love to stand around at parties, kids events, grocery stores, and any other place people talk and blather on incessantly about the “world crisis” and how bad it all is. Why in the world would we repeatedly harp on that disappointment? It’s like a cheated-on spouse who never stops “telling her story” to everyone she meets. That becomes who she is rather than just a part of her life.
Jeez, it’s tough, okay? It won’t be tough forever. It’s just history in the making, just a time to be gotten through. What will be happening next year at this time? Five years from now? People have slogged through life that’s been a thousand times tougher than it is right now, it’s been done hundreds of times before now, right? Why globalize what can be handled locally? We can’t really attend the G20 Summit now can we? I would bet this guy hasn’t even written a letter to the editor of the newspaper. He’s a critic just throwing more logs on the panic fire. What is to be gained by that I ask you? He can say he’s “up on all the news that matters,” “abreast of the current situation.” Big deal. I don’t really want to talk about that, do you? Does it feel good? These are the folks who will be cornering you at parties in 30 years to tell you all about their health. Find something that matters and fix THAT why don’t you?
The Substitute
April 2, 2009
I am substituting again for Mrs. Ulett. Yesterday was a tough day, rough day. The morning kids are sweet and bring the day to me smoothly. The afternoon kids can ruin a few hours if I let them and yesterday, I let them. I broke one of the cardinal rules of teaching: I engaged.
Okay, so I’m not a teacher nor have I had any formal teaching training but most of us know NOT to get sucked into the whirlpool of a 4th grader’s issues. I know this! I am so mad at myself for jumping in to the hydraulic this duo of boys create every time I see them! Charles and Ojala. Charles and Ojala are known school-wide so when I mention whose class I’m subbing in and someone asks, “How’s that working out?” and I mention that I’ve had a few troubles with these 4th graders, as soon as I say their names, heads shake in acknowledgement and sympathy.
The CRCT is coming up right after the kids return from spring break so there is a county-wide push currently going on to prepare all the students for the test. Teachers use it as a means of motivation (pulling the kids from the front) or to instill fear (pushing them from the back). “If you don’t get this right now, you won’t get it right on the CRCT and then you know what that means!? You’ll be seeing 4th grade all over again next year because you won’t pass this test!”
Today, on the morning announcements, 4 teachers got dressed up in Village People costumes and sang “CRCT” to the tune of “YMCA” complete with appropriate arm motions. “You can make a good grade! It will never fade! You’ll get to go on to the next grade! CRCT! It’s almost time for the…CRCT….” Mrs. Ulett’s class is what is known as a Resource Class. This means that for certain subjects (such as reading and writing which is what Mrs. U handles) these kids need some more intimate instruction. So, they trek it down to Mrs. U’s tiny little interior classroom (read “no windows”) for an hour. She handles a 2nd grade group, a 3rd grade group, a 5th grade group, and then two 4th grade groups take up the afternoon after lunch.
These kids struggle with words like “future.” Yesterday a beautiful little 4th grade girl asked me, “Does the future mean it’s happening right now?” 4th grade. “No sweetie, future means it hasn’t happened yet, clue words are “will” or “going to.” As in, “In the near future I WILL be tempted to hand Charles and Ojala their tongues on a platter.”
Mrs. U’s classes don’t ever have more than 8 students. I don’t sit at the desk (nor does she), but at the two long tables that have been pushed together in the center of the broom closet, er, classroom. Since I have handled her class several times before, I know that Charles and Ojala riff off each other and can quickly spiral into a death tornado of aggression, so I sit in between them at the tables. Yesterday, it was imperative that the kids do the CRCT post test (practice) and since Mrs. U leaves a tightly packed schedule for each group, I try to get the kids in and working quickly.
But, these kids don’t transition well! It takes at least 5 minutes for them to get in to the room, choose just the right pencil, negotiate seating positions, make several trips to various folders for paper, bubble answer sheets, and booklets. Up, down, up, down, walk, walk, walk….talk, talk, talk, do the aggressive shoulder bump, tattle, tattle, tattle…I have started to say a bunch of stuff that sounds as if it must have been said for centuries, “If I doesn’t involve you, then don’t tell me about it,” “If your eyes were on your own work, you wouldn’t know that he’s looking at you,” (these kids HATE to be stared at, it’s a serious form of antagonism apparently).
So, in order to get the whole ball rolling I start saying, “Sit down, close your mouths and put your pencil in your hand…David, your mouth is still talking, did you hear my instructions? David, zip it. David, you don’t need to worry about Ojala’s torn paper. Ojala will take care of Ojala, you take care of you…” Then there’s a round of each kid shushing the other kid and then they settle into a mode of semi-serious academic effort. I say “semi-serious” because they cannot keep their eyes still. These kids are not fidgety but they could give a Mafioso a lesson in subversive eye movements. “Is he looking at me? What did he put for #107? What’s he holding in his hand? Is she talking? SHH!”
I think they might do 5 or so questions before someone might whisper loudly, “Wow, this is so easy, I’ve already done 5 questions…” Then someone is practically forced to reply, “Yeah, this is easy, I’m doing great…” Which results in another admonition from me, “Guys, you’re all brilliant, keep it to yourself and move on.” And so it goes for the 50 minutes they are with me as I am Mrs. Ulett.
It was during the beginning of the semi-serious work session that Charles and Ojala couldn’t leave each other alone and both were completely ignoring my warnings and my “mean eyes.” They were now leaning around me to make threats and denials to each other (“Quit looking at me, you’re gonna get in trouble,” “I’m not looking at you! Whose pencil is that, you have Rubensons’ pencil,” “This is my pencil, leave me alone,” “No, YOU leave ME alone…” blahblahblah. Everyone in the class had ceased work to enjoy this little drama. I was only sitting about 2 feet from each kid, but NO ONE was paying me any attention, so I raised my voice, some might call it yelling. “LOOK AT ME! Stop it right now!”
So, enough background, the end result is that Charles refused to interact with me. I asked him for some specific behaviors (move your seat, answer me please, “do we need to take a walk?”) and when he wouldn’t respond to anything but was STILL peering around me at Ojala (who was probably back there shooting me whole flocks of birds, but hey, one kid at a time) with a little smirk on his face, well I jumped into the ridiculous situation with both feet and said, “I will give you until 3 to answer me. 1…..2….3….okay, that’s your answer. Get your stuff, we’re taking a walk.” The walk leads to the disciplinary principal. Sooo stupid. Of me. Well, him too, but he’s only10.
I thought about it all afternoon and even when the thunder woke me up at 4 a.m. this morning, I was formulating plans for how to handle them today. First, the slate is wiped clean, we all start off on the good foot today. I got out all their supplies and put them at the seats of MY choosing before they even got there. This worked well. But you know what? I think Ojala and Charles felt as crummy about yesterday as I did. Charles came in and immediately gave me a compliment and a hug and Ojala came in and threw me a sideways glance, “What’s the temperature in here today?” he was probably thinking. I said hey to him and “We’re gonna have a much better day today, right Ojala?” He replied, “Well, it sure ain’t gonna be a repeat of yesterday, that’s for sure!” Yeah, you got that right buddy.
CRCT! We’re getting’ ready for the….CRCT!...you can make a good grade…
I am substituting again for Mrs. Ulett. Yesterday was a tough day, rough day. The morning kids are sweet and bring the day to me smoothly. The afternoon kids can ruin a few hours if I let them and yesterday, I let them. I broke one of the cardinal rules of teaching: I engaged.
Okay, so I’m not a teacher nor have I had any formal teaching training but most of us know NOT to get sucked into the whirlpool of a 4th grader’s issues. I know this! I am so mad at myself for jumping in to the hydraulic this duo of boys create every time I see them! Charles and Ojala. Charles and Ojala are known school-wide so when I mention whose class I’m subbing in and someone asks, “How’s that working out?” and I mention that I’ve had a few troubles with these 4th graders, as soon as I say their names, heads shake in acknowledgement and sympathy.
The CRCT is coming up right after the kids return from spring break so there is a county-wide push currently going on to prepare all the students for the test. Teachers use it as a means of motivation (pulling the kids from the front) or to instill fear (pushing them from the back). “If you don’t get this right now, you won’t get it right on the CRCT and then you know what that means!? You’ll be seeing 4th grade all over again next year because you won’t pass this test!”
Today, on the morning announcements, 4 teachers got dressed up in Village People costumes and sang “CRCT” to the tune of “YMCA” complete with appropriate arm motions. “You can make a good grade! It will never fade! You’ll get to go on to the next grade! CRCT! It’s almost time for the…CRCT….” Mrs. Ulett’s class is what is known as a Resource Class. This means that for certain subjects (such as reading and writing which is what Mrs. U handles) these kids need some more intimate instruction. So, they trek it down to Mrs. U’s tiny little interior classroom (read “no windows”) for an hour. She handles a 2nd grade group, a 3rd grade group, a 5th grade group, and then two 4th grade groups take up the afternoon after lunch.
These kids struggle with words like “future.” Yesterday a beautiful little 4th grade girl asked me, “Does the future mean it’s happening right now?” 4th grade. “No sweetie, future means it hasn’t happened yet, clue words are “will” or “going to.” As in, “In the near future I WILL be tempted to hand Charles and Ojala their tongues on a platter.”
Mrs. U’s classes don’t ever have more than 8 students. I don’t sit at the desk (nor does she), but at the two long tables that have been pushed together in the center of the broom closet, er, classroom. Since I have handled her class several times before, I know that Charles and Ojala riff off each other and can quickly spiral into a death tornado of aggression, so I sit in between them at the tables. Yesterday, it was imperative that the kids do the CRCT post test (practice) and since Mrs. U leaves a tightly packed schedule for each group, I try to get the kids in and working quickly.
But, these kids don’t transition well! It takes at least 5 minutes for them to get in to the room, choose just the right pencil, negotiate seating positions, make several trips to various folders for paper, bubble answer sheets, and booklets. Up, down, up, down, walk, walk, walk….talk, talk, talk, do the aggressive shoulder bump, tattle, tattle, tattle…I have started to say a bunch of stuff that sounds as if it must have been said for centuries, “If I doesn’t involve you, then don’t tell me about it,” “If your eyes were on your own work, you wouldn’t know that he’s looking at you,” (these kids HATE to be stared at, it’s a serious form of antagonism apparently).
So, in order to get the whole ball rolling I start saying, “Sit down, close your mouths and put your pencil in your hand…David, your mouth is still talking, did you hear my instructions? David, zip it. David, you don’t need to worry about Ojala’s torn paper. Ojala will take care of Ojala, you take care of you…” Then there’s a round of each kid shushing the other kid and then they settle into a mode of semi-serious academic effort. I say “semi-serious” because they cannot keep their eyes still. These kids are not fidgety but they could give a Mafioso a lesson in subversive eye movements. “Is he looking at me? What did he put for #107? What’s he holding in his hand? Is she talking? SHH!”
I think they might do 5 or so questions before someone might whisper loudly, “Wow, this is so easy, I’ve already done 5 questions…” Then someone is practically forced to reply, “Yeah, this is easy, I’m doing great…” Which results in another admonition from me, “Guys, you’re all brilliant, keep it to yourself and move on.” And so it goes for the 50 minutes they are with me as I am Mrs. Ulett.
It was during the beginning of the semi-serious work session that Charles and Ojala couldn’t leave each other alone and both were completely ignoring my warnings and my “mean eyes.” They were now leaning around me to make threats and denials to each other (“Quit looking at me, you’re gonna get in trouble,” “I’m not looking at you! Whose pencil is that, you have Rubensons’ pencil,” “This is my pencil, leave me alone,” “No, YOU leave ME alone…” blahblahblah. Everyone in the class had ceased work to enjoy this little drama. I was only sitting about 2 feet from each kid, but NO ONE was paying me any attention, so I raised my voice, some might call it yelling. “LOOK AT ME! Stop it right now!”
So, enough background, the end result is that Charles refused to interact with me. I asked him for some specific behaviors (move your seat, answer me please, “do we need to take a walk?”) and when he wouldn’t respond to anything but was STILL peering around me at Ojala (who was probably back there shooting me whole flocks of birds, but hey, one kid at a time) with a little smirk on his face, well I jumped into the ridiculous situation with both feet and said, “I will give you until 3 to answer me. 1…..2….3….okay, that’s your answer. Get your stuff, we’re taking a walk.” The walk leads to the disciplinary principal. Sooo stupid. Of me. Well, him too, but he’s only10.
I thought about it all afternoon and even when the thunder woke me up at 4 a.m. this morning, I was formulating plans for how to handle them today. First, the slate is wiped clean, we all start off on the good foot today. I got out all their supplies and put them at the seats of MY choosing before they even got there. This worked well. But you know what? I think Ojala and Charles felt as crummy about yesterday as I did. Charles came in and immediately gave me a compliment and a hug and Ojala came in and threw me a sideways glance, “What’s the temperature in here today?” he was probably thinking. I said hey to him and “We’re gonna have a much better day today, right Ojala?” He replied, “Well, it sure ain’t gonna be a repeat of yesterday, that’s for sure!” Yeah, you got that right buddy.
CRCT! We’re getting’ ready for the….CRCT!...you can make a good grade…
Letter to the Mother of a Daughter
"To me" (I preface it with this because I know every parent probably believes this of her kids), Patrick is really sort of innocent. ? He knows ABOUT a lot of stuff, but I THINK we are on top of where he is and what he's doing. I think. But, my parents sort of thought that about me too. I drank in high school and I often told Mom and Dad it was only one beer or whatever it was. My parents were of the "believe what you want to believe" mindset and I think wanted so much for my lies to be true, they just accepted them. Unless someone called her about me. This happened the first time I got caught. I was a cheerleader and drinking at a football party with the head football coaches' daughters (bad choices all the way around). Coach Turner busted the party, his players, his daughters, and me. I was about to start 10 th grade! So embarrassed.
I really hate it for you that your struggles are with the girls side of it all because somehow, girls have so much more at stake. It's such a conundrum because reputation is important, a good one that is. But if you act according to how a person with a good rep acts, then you don't do anything and you are "punished" for it by being rejected, left out, and harassed to join all the hell-raisers on their way to hell. BUT, if you do join in the rabble-rousing then you get the slut, loose, party-time babe rep. How to balance it all? How do you be good when everyone is bad and begging you to be bad with them?
I know a girl from college (but she says she did this in high school too) who pled a germ phobia and would never share a drink or drink after someone. She put whatever she was drinking into a tall, opaque cup, kept it full, and just acted like her normal, happy self. If anyone asked for a sip, she just said it made her ill to think of sharing a cup w/someone, "I just don't do that." If someone took a sip, she threw out the drink altogether. We thought for the longest time that she was the bottomless pit of drinking and had the tolerance of an ox. She was "playing the game," but she made up new terms. Pretty cool.
Patrick has seasonal asthma so I've told him that if anyone offers him anything to smoke, in addition to "just saying no," he could always say something like, "Dude, I have asthma. No way am I putting anything into my lungs, I can barely breathe as it is." I don't care if they think he would if he could; only that he doesn't! I've told Dylan this as well and he doesn't even have asthma. But he's so dang ethical, he probably wouldn't be able to lie to the smokers or drinkers or whatever, "I have asthma, I can't ever smoke. Wait. Not really! Not really! I'm sorry I lied, I don't really have asthma! I feel just horrible about the lie, I’m so sorry…"
He choked when we were at Six Flags and he wanted to see the simulated Army Experience thingy. The age requirement was 13 and he just turned 12 in Feb. I told him and his friend to go on in and just say they were 13, and not to act like a couple of 6 year olds. They went in and came trekking right back out after about 3 minutes. No one even ASKED him a question, but he was so freaked out about lying to an army guy he just turned around and left, "You CAN'T lie to an army guy! That's like lying to the police! You can get in serious trouble..." Me,"No, Dylan, you can't, this is Six Flagss, all they would do is laugh and tell you to come back next year..." "Well, no way am I going back in there. I can NOT lie to the army guys..." His cute green eyes opened wide and chin tucked down with determination. With all this in mind, maybe I won't have any deviance problems with Dylan! I think Patrick might be swayed to experiment early (earlier than college anyway) - his friends are of supreme importance to him. Maybe though, that’s the difference between 12 and 14? I hope not.
I know with Patrick in high school next year, exposure is only going to get worse. We live about 2 miles from a Christian school, and a kid we know whose family is Extremely Religious just got kicked out of there for having a joint. I'm thinking this boy is a good kid who made a really bad choice and got caught. I know that does happen. But, point being, the local Christian school is infested as well. If a bastion of "goodness and Christianity" like that has drugs and dealers, where IS one to turn? It’s not geography any more. You can’t send your kid 15 miles away to school and expect to have a different experience academically or socially. It’s not geographical, it’s cultural. It’s 2009.
I really hate it for you that your struggles are with the girls side of it all because somehow, girls have so much more at stake. It's such a conundrum because reputation is important, a good one that is. But if you act according to how a person with a good rep acts, then you don't do anything and you are "punished" for it by being rejected, left out, and harassed to join all the hell-raisers on their way to hell. BUT, if you do join in the rabble-rousing then you get the slut, loose, party-time babe rep. How to balance it all? How do you be good when everyone is bad and begging you to be bad with them?
I know a girl from college (but she says she did this in high school too) who pled a germ phobia and would never share a drink or drink after someone. She put whatever she was drinking into a tall, opaque cup, kept it full, and just acted like her normal, happy self. If anyone asked for a sip, she just said it made her ill to think of sharing a cup w/someone, "I just don't do that." If someone took a sip, she threw out the drink altogether. We thought for the longest time that she was the bottomless pit of drinking and had the tolerance of an ox. She was "playing the game," but she made up new terms. Pretty cool.
Patrick has seasonal asthma so I've told him that if anyone offers him anything to smoke, in addition to "just saying no," he could always say something like, "Dude, I have asthma. No way am I putting anything into my lungs, I can barely breathe as it is." I don't care if they think he would if he could; only that he doesn't! I've told Dylan this as well and he doesn't even have asthma. But he's so dang ethical, he probably wouldn't be able to lie to the smokers or drinkers or whatever, "I have asthma, I can't ever smoke. Wait. Not really! Not really! I'm sorry I lied, I don't really have asthma! I feel just horrible about the lie, I’m so sorry…"
He choked when we were at Six Flags and he wanted to see the simulated Army Experience thingy. The age requirement was 13 and he just turned 12 in Feb. I told him and his friend to go on in and just say they were 13, and not to act like a couple of 6 year olds. They went in and came trekking right back out after about 3 minutes. No one even ASKED him a question, but he was so freaked out about lying to an army guy he just turned around and left, "You CAN'T lie to an army guy! That's like lying to the police! You can get in serious trouble..." Me,"No, Dylan, you can't, this is Six Flagss, all they would do is laugh and tell you to come back next year..." "Well, no way am I going back in there. I can NOT lie to the army guys..." His cute green eyes opened wide and chin tucked down with determination. With all this in mind, maybe I won't have any deviance problems with Dylan! I think Patrick might be swayed to experiment early (earlier than college anyway) - his friends are of supreme importance to him. Maybe though, that’s the difference between 12 and 14? I hope not.
I know with Patrick in high school next year, exposure is only going to get worse. We live about 2 miles from a Christian school, and a kid we know whose family is Extremely Religious just got kicked out of there for having a joint. I'm thinking this boy is a good kid who made a really bad choice and got caught. I know that does happen. But, point being, the local Christian school is infested as well. If a bastion of "goodness and Christianity" like that has drugs and dealers, where IS one to turn? It’s not geography any more. You can’t send your kid 15 miles away to school and expect to have a different experience academically or socially. It’s not geographical, it’s cultural. It’s 2009.
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