Squat Happens

I'm blogging again. But don't expect this to become a habit-- life as a first year teacher sucks up every spare minute I've got. Woe.

(But JOY, because I got a job doing what I love.)

Currently, I am living rent free with my two new roomies, Deidra and Carly. This is they:

They are darling. I LOVE them.

How are we living rent free, you ask? It turns out the housing market's dive helped some penny-pinching twenty-something chickies save a few bucks: our landlord had to foreclose on the house, and could no longer legally charge us rent. Ta daaah!! The girls have been living there for free since April, and I got to start reaping the benefits when I moved in early September. The house goes up for auction in November, but even IF it gets bought and the peeps want to kick us out rather than issuing a new lease, they have to give us at least 60 days to do so.

Abra cadabra: free rent until January.

"WOW!" all the blog readers exclaimed. "That sounds too good to be true!"

Whoops, it is.

Right before I moved in, the roomies had a goodbye party for another roomie moving out. In one ill-conceived moment of festive frivolity, the party guests decided to make a real fire in our gas fireplace. (They wanted to make s'mores.) The gas pipe melted, the gas began to leak, everyone screamed and ran away, the gas was shut off, and later, the gas man told us with a low stern voice not to turn it back on at any cost, unless we had already fixed it.

Normally a landlord would take care of that sort of thing.

But our landlord is currently fleeing the country.

Pish! Who needs heat in sunny September? WE'RE not going to fork over $1,000 to fix a house we're not going to be living in much longer!

But then October descended, and the frost creeped in, and the poor little fraulines woke up, shivering in their beds...

We really are shivering in our beds, our house was 54 degrees yesterday. That is FREEZING!! I could barely move my fingers to make red ink slashes on essays.

Our solution: keep the oven on full blast, and drag space heaters around. WE ARE RESOURCEFUL WOMEN.

However: it turns out space heaters use up lots of voltage. Also, hair dryers use up lots of voltage. Also, when there is so much voltage, fuses blows, power fails, and the world is plunged into darkness.

The afore-mentioned series of events meant that at 5:15am this morning, I was kneeling on top of the basement tool bench in my bath robe, hair soaking wet, reaching for the fuse switches, and cursing under my breath. What a way to start off Monday.

But hey, at least we have electricity, right?

Wrong.

We received an electric bill which heinously illustrated the frantic attempts of our former landlord to compile his debts and foist them off on poor innocent damsels in distress. The bill was for over $1,000, and represented electricity bills from his other properties. "What are we going to do??!!" we asked each other, appalled. WE can't pay that. Good thing it's in his name-- PAH! No debts attached to us. Solution: we just won't pay it.

Which means that the electric company will shut off our power.

Which means that in about a week, we will have no power.

Anyway, the point of the story is that I'm once more house hunting. Haha!

Another pertinent update includes this handsome dude:


Who, besides being dashing, is a good, good man and-- hooray-- in mutual big-time crush with me. We were off to the ballet in this picture. He went with me to the BALLET!

So life progresses. Teaching is exhausting, stressful, and great-- I've had kids dress up like Beowulf swamp monsters, plan their own funerals (to consider how they want to be remembered-- don't worry, it makes sense), put on plays, blog, act out the Iliad, debate, and humor my many voices, theatrics, and slips of the tongue. (Note to all: it is inadvisable to call Jesus "fugly" when teaching at a private Christian school.) Marc-- the dashing scruffy one-- is terrific, and an incredible source of encouragement, support, and back rubs. And even though my housing situation leaves much to be desired, I have an income-- joy!!-- which makes new house hunting a possibility.

Praise the Lord: live goes on.

Ten Minutes Ready Go

Class starts in ten. Have been needing to catch up the blog on TEACHING!!! So, bullet points: snick snack snorum.

- Student just came in to ask for help soliciting submissions for the student lit magazine. Eight minutes left.

- Teaching at a private Christian school is a little odd. Is a lot odd. Yesterday, the day started off with chapel-- three sermons, and hymns sung to organ music. No kidding-- they used the "old school ORGAN" setting on the keyboard.

- My sophomores LOVE me. We have a blast.

- I'm still winning over my seniors. They require a whole different approach-- they've been together since Kindergarten, and I'm the new one. Who says I have a right to speak into their lives? Have been working on building relationships and having meaningful conversations with them-- also, spending too much time grading their papers so that I can write thoughtful comments. Think it's paying off... It feels different every day.

- Have had to deal with plagiarism already. Good Christian kids still make dumb kid mistakes, apparently.

- One boy took a ten minute bathroom break. After class: "Ryan, can I talk to you for a second?"
"Sure."
"How are you feeling?"
(Long suspicious pause from Ryan.)
"Like, health wise. How are you feeling?"
"Um... yeah... I guess I've been feeling a little under the weather...?"
"Just because I cannot fathom why a bathroom break would take you so long, unless you were experiencing serious intestinal issues."
The light dawned on him. "OOH, yeah! Oh-- yeah-- you know, Chipotle does that to me." His friends laughed.
"Well steer clear of Chipotle before my class then."

- The kids don't know if I'm Miss, Ms., or Mrs., and call me all three. I'm fine with that-- I'd rather they don't know one way or the other.

- My graffiti board-- a blank piece of posterboard that I covered with paper and hung on the wall for kids to write on-- is already full. Among the quoted: Pink Floyd, Southpark, and Michael Scott. Love itr!

- It's going WELL. I love my little AP class (10 kids), I feel big things going on with the Seniors, and obviously, I'm having a ton of fun with my 10th graders.

There's the bell! One more big update though-- I moved! Life no longer occurs daily at Grandpa's house. I'm going to miss him, but I was really feeling ready for more independence. Living now with Carly and Deidra- WONDERFUL friends!-- at a house just a couple blocks away, and I've transformed my little room into the coziest, sweetest little nest! Left Gramps little love notes to find all over the house-- a reminder that I'm not far away, and that I'll see him SOON.

More later. Class now.

Moth #2

On the curtain she waited,
Scalloped wings spread in
Apologetic space
Water hits the floor and
Steam rises
Dampening the dust on her wings.

On the floor, submissive
I find her again
A bow, a sweeping fan

And when waking, she is above me
Still-- still
A silent guardian
Garishly displayed against smooth white cotton.

Behind her, out the window
The world unfolds
Leaves ricochet, shocked to be shaken
Rain hums and wakes and washes them all
While I watch through a spider web landscape.

My dusty guardian is not so sinister perhaps;
But misunderstood.

MADE IT.

The day even went great. Go figure.

Thanks for helping me along. :)

Soldier

It's 7:00AM, and I'm at my desk. Class will start in 45 minutes.

I was still here, less than twelve hours ago. I was here for the twelve hours before that. When I finally DID leave, I went home, and prepared for Friday's class, packed for the retreat, and finally fell into bed around 10:15PM. I had frantic, nerve-wracking dreams all night, and when my alarm finally sounded at 4:45AM, I woke with a jolt and a gasp. I could barely keep my eyes open on my drive to work.

It's not a good sign when you imagine getting into a car wreck and feel some relief, thinking, "At least then, I could take the day off..."

And it's only Wednesday.

Why this sudden terror and exhaustion? Why this seizure of anxiety after two solid days of teaching? Is this the devil?

I am dreading 6th period. I'm pretty sure they were largely featured in the terrible dreams.

Two thoughts, I'm finding comfort in. One, is that I know that, SOMEHOW, I will make it to the end of the day. 3:00PM will come. And bedtime-- glorious, blissful bedtime will come after that. I might even get to sleep in until, like, 7:00 tomorrow because the kids won't show up at the retreat center until later. Whenever I'm feeling overwhelmed with how much I have to do, it's been a comforting thing to look at the final deadline and say, "SOMEHOW it will all get done. I don't know how, but it will." And it always has. And it will today. I will make it to 3:00PM, and by the time I do, I will have taught five high-school English classes.

Second: this is a little childish, but that is sometimes a pattern with me. And whenever I'm feeling especially knotted up with nerves, it's tremendously helpful to find myself in a moment of silliness. I am picturing myself as a solider. This morning, I am in camo gear, lying on my belly in a trench after a fitful night of sleep. I'm watching the sun rise through a barbed wire coil, and thinking that it's beautiful, and thinking that I need to GEAR UP for the battle today. I've got mud on my face because, word: I am hard core. I can do this. I have weapons. And I can take on 6th period. And besides, there are other hard core soldiers fighting with me.

(Cue bloggies to PRAY.)

Anyway. I will make it. I will survive. This is just teaching! Why am I so freaked out? I know the ending to the story: God wins. All I have to do is love others, and love Him in the meantime. He'll take care of the rest.

Roger that.

Two Days Down

178 to go.

The first day went GREAT. And the point that I'd been most worried about-- my demeanor-- was what I felt best about. I'd felt so worried that I would try to be either TOO "buddy buddy," or that I would overcompensate and try to come across as a war general, which would be fun for no one-- least of all me. I'd prayedprayedprayed about the first day demeanor, and hooray, I felt like I was just what I was supposed to be: firm, articulate, and warm. When kids engaged in side chatter, I either gave them "THE LOOK," or called them out. 6th period has been called out several times. Both yesterday and today, I had to have a "Come to Jesus" moment where I said firmly, no really, I DON'T LIKE SIDE CHATTER. 6th period (which I'm pretty sure will be this year's 5th period) is an especially rambunctious group of Seniors. They've been together for 13 years; they know each other incredibly well, and I'm the new kid. Plus, the teacher last year was incredibly popular; why should they respect this new chick that they know nothing about, whose main distinguishing characteristic at this point is NOT being Mr. Johnson? Also, Seniors are just tricky I think. They're old enough to think they know everything, but not old enough to realize they don't.

Still: I had all kinds of rambunctious, hard kids last year. I can win these kids, right? All day Thursday will be spent at a retreat. My mission: have real conversations with the harder ones. It was only by forming relationships with my hard kiddos last year that I won them over onto "my side." Right now, I'm focusing on obtaining their respect, and being consistent with precedents. Winning their affection can come later.

I'm so tired, by the way.

I have STACKS of summer reading essays to read through. Also first-day freewrites. Also tests.

My goal is to leave school by 6:00 every night: trying to get as much grading done by then as possible, and then, I'm supposed to TAKE OFF. And be DONE. The only problem is, yesterday and today have both necessitated lots of conversations with other teachers, and random house cleaning stuff after school... It's 4:42, and I haven't even started on the piles yet.

Also, I'm blogging.

I needed to decompress.

Bottom line: God is good, and it's going well. I'm having a blast with my Sophomores. I totally freaked out my AP kids, which I love. I've got THEM on the ropes!! They're going to be a great group. My other class of Seniors is fine-- it's really just that 6th period that will be a handful, I think. But I feel like I know what to do with them.

Or in any case, He does. And we're in communication.

Too tired to end with a witty addendum. Check ya later, bloggies.

The Eve

Tomorrow.

Tomorrow: I will face down one hundred students, divided into five different classes, as their teacher. Tomorrow, I will give students syllabi that I have spent hours writing, which describe texts and units spanning the entire year. Tomorrow, I will ask them to introduce themselves, and I will introduce myself to them. Tomorrow, these students will see my classroom-- they will see the art on the walls that I selected to stimulate their thinking; they will see the world map that I've hung with pins stuck in the places that I've been, with more pins at the ready for them to stick in the cities they've traveled to. Tomorrow, they will see the vocabulary words that have been hung in a border around the room, and they will see the sign I made that says, "You must learn the rules before you can break them," flanked on one side by the Mona Lisa, and on the other, by a cubist Picasso portrait. Tomorrow, I will show them the hockey stick that I've turned into a hall pass, and I will tell them sternly that they must be so tender with the hall pass. Tomorrow, they will sit in the desks that I've meticulously arranged in a circle formation, and they will listen as I review the syllabi via a Powerpoint with silly pictures to accompany the various points.

Tomorrow, they will be my students, and I will be their teacher.

Tomorrow, I will pretend that I've completed the summer reading assignments of "Crime and Punishment," and "Mere Christianity," instead of telling them the truth: that I was frantically scanning Sparksnotes the night before, trying to catch myself up on all major points. Tomorrow, I will smile, and give my Senior AP students the reading cards that were fashioned by a former teacher, requiring them to identify the novel's symbols, motifs, tones, syntax structure, diction style, genre, and so on-- many terms which I still feel shaky on myself. Tomorrow, if they ask me to explain what I mean by identifying the novel's "syntax," I will glibly say, "We'll go over all these terms later. For now, I'd like to see what terms you're comfortable with and what you're still unsure about. Think of this as a pretest. Do your best; we'll go over all of these later this week."

Tomorrow, I will get on my knees and pray with determination that God hold to His promise that in my weakness, He will be strong, and also well informed about literary analysis.

Tomorrow, I will wear a navy blue pencil skirt, a pink blouse, tan boots, and a thick brown belt around my waist.

Tomorrow, I will give my fellow English teachers boxes of tea, because English teachers love tea, and because I want to show them that I am thankful and excited to teach alongside them this year.

Tomorrow, I might get sick to my stomach, which is what my body does when it gets very nervous. But tomorrow, if that happens, I will square my shoulders and breathe into my diaphragm and lift my chin and say, "Good morning folks. Welcome to Senior year," and I will pretend that I never had a previous encounter with the toilet bowl.

(But tomorrow, please God, don't let me get sick WHILE the students are there. Amen.)

Tomorrow, I will meet my kids. I will begin to know their names. I will begin to hear their stories. Tomorrow, I will remember why it is that I LOVE this.

Tomorrow, I will thank God for the miraculous blessing of a job, of supportive co-teachers, of a wonderful principal, and for being in a school that allows me to post my fervent prayer in the form of a Bible verse outside my door. Tomorrow, I will pray for my students, and I will pray that He enables me to teach them as they deserve to be taught.

"Tomorrow" gets over at 3:00 PM. And boy-- tomorrow? That hour just can't come soon enough.

Nerd

It is 10:46AM. I am in my pajamas, in bed, with an empty mug of coffee beside me, and a rip-roaring case of coffee breath. My project this weekend is to write my yearly syllabi which entails:

1.) 10th Grade English
2.) 12th grade English
3.) 12th AP English

Do you know what this means? This means for the last two hours, I have been giving myself a slam-bang-quick-'n-dirty education of all the literary terms I'm supposed to already know about.

HAHA!

That was an example of situational irony, my friends.

In the process, I am learning some new words. I just learned the most WONDERFUL new word, and it's put me a delicious mood. The word is:
mellifluous

Isn't that beautiful?? It means:
1 : having a smooth rich flow: a mellifluous voice
2 : filled with something (as honey) that sweetens

Say it. It FEELS like honey. Mellifluous was used in part to describe the literary term "euphony," which is basically the opposite of cacophony, which is ANOTHER great word. Cacophony is pots and pans banging together. Euphony is, "the pleasant, mellifluous presentation of sounds in a literary work." Ah! Like chocolate in the springtime! Like doves in the larder!

(I have never been in a larder.)

I love words. I lovelovelove words. I remember coming across "ameliorate" for the first time in Jane Eyre and thinking, "What is that word?? What is this fantastic word?!" It means, in fact, to improve, or, to make better.

Another word that must be mentioned is travesty. People misuse this all the time-- they interchange it with "tragedy," but that is NOT WHAT IT MEANS. "Travesty" means a gross misinterpretation. Sarah Palin's understanding of the Health Care reform bill is a travesty, for instance. But Hamlet's death is not a travesty; that is a TRAGEDY. Romeo and Juliet could be considered both though. They misunderstood the state of things, and whoops, there goes the poison.

People sometimes ask me to describe my sense of humor. I hem and haw and say things like, "I think 'The Office' is hilarious..." or, "I love witty humor," but what makes me laugh the MOST is silly word play things. Like, this blog of Annie's, I found HILARIOUS. I once "got back" at a friend for misspelling my name in an email with a return email that had EVERY WORD MISSPELLED. Eye thot eye wuz da funnyest gurl inn da wurld. Stil, eye reed dat emale an dye laffing.

I don't think my friend found me quite as amusing as I did.

I love reading puns, but think they are sort of lame when spoken. It's just harder to be witty when you make a spoken pun-- the speaker always has to pause, and open their eyes wide, and let their mouth hang open in a grin until everyone "gets it," and then it's usually a process of congratulating the speaker for being so "clever" (even though the pun was probably kind of cheesy to begin with), and then you as the hearer make a secret rolling of the eyes, usually because it probably took you a second to catch on, and the second of confusion makes you feel slow, which makes you want to secretly roll your eyes, which makes you dislike spoken puns entirely.

We are talking about YOU here, this is not necessarily what happens to ME.

When a pun is in written form, then you, the reader, can squint at it for a moment, GET it, and then congratulate yourself on being astute and witty and clever. And then you can congratulate the writer for being astute and witty and clever, and you don't have to deal with any open mouthed grin because the writer did it very stealthily and covertly with a swish of his pen, or more accurately, with a swipe at his keyboard, and so everyone feels clever and witty which is lovely. The only person who doesn't feel clever and witty is the person who didn't get it at all, who continues to read the story happily, oblivious, slightly befuddled, but probably more interested in what's for dinner anyway.

My favorite joke involves a whale noise, because! When you expect the whale to actually SAY something! It just groans and makes whale noises!!! Hahaha!

Yesterday I made up a word. I was talking about something being inexplicable, "and yet it turned out to be entirely... plicable."

And then I LAUGHED and LAUGHED, because, plicable is not a word?!?!! "Plicable" is the END of a word! But plicable was understood!! Which was HILARIOUS!!



Well. Anyway.

I'll be done.

(This is why I'm an English teacher.)

(Even if I DO have to look up literary terms on the internet.)

News:

I AM OFFICIALLY DONE WITH GRAD SCHOOL.

Friends... acquaintances... strangers who read my blog (like the ones in Beverly Hills-- why do so many people in Beverly Hills read my blog?? Delurk, Beverly Hills, delurk!)... random Googlers who find themselves here inexplicably and with great dismay: this is a big deal.

It means: I am done with school forever!




... Until I decide I want my Masters in English. Or a degree in Family Counseling. Or to be Nationally Board Certified.

Also, until I start inservice at my teaching job on Monday. Because then, obviously, I will be back in school.

But still: the hellish days of research papers and online discussion forums and ripping-my-hair-out-because-I-forgot-another-assignment are OVER!!! I have a Masters degree! I do, I do!




... At least, I will, once I officially pass my classes and get the fancy bit of paper in the mail.

What is the point of qualifiers?? I scorn qualifiers. I spit upon qualifiers. I AM DONE WITH GRAD SCHOOL AND I HAVE A MASTERS DEGREE.

AND THAT IS MY NEWS.

This afternoon, I celebrated with some shopping. I bought tights and a skirt and a sweater: very practical teacher back-to-school clothes (which could also be confused as done-with-school clothes). I also tried on a romper. All summer long I have wanted a romper. I found a great romper, on sale, in my size, and the short parts were even teal. I love teal. I once convinced my high-school graduating class to order our graduation announcements in teal, which everyone later hated, but by then they had forgotten I was the one to convince them, and I felt secretly overjoyed and wicked. But I did not buy the romper, because it was impractical for school.

But it's pajama time now, and what I really wish I had is a romper.

And so even though I am done with grad school and have a fancy advanced degree, I am weeping uncontrollably in a heap under my covers for want of a romper.

Not really.

I'm still super pumped. :)

I just bombed my final test.

12/20. Worth 10% of my grade. I feel totally lame and worthless.



. . .


Would like to thank coffee-flavored ice cream and Taylor Swift for helping me feel better.

Both guilty pleasures. Both entirely effective.



My last day of grad school is tomorrow and IT CAN'T COME SOON ENOUGH.