This weekend I am going to Miami to help one of my dearest friends celebrate her birthday. There will be much laughing, talking, goofing off, cooking and eating. There may even be a little sleeping. There will be total relaxation.
Hope everyone has a terrific Labor Day weekend. See you next week.
Friday, September 01, 2006
Thursday, August 31, 2006
Oh My!
In the interest of pursuing the most non-heavy topic I can think of, I find myself giggling about the joy and amusement that is Nana! Nana has had a big week and as usual it was a real corker to watch.
Nana walks with a cane. It is really an extension of her hand really. She points with it. Drags things with it. She herds the dogs with it and occasionally disciplines them with it (a slight tap on the butt when they rough house too much...) She pokes me with it to get my attention. She uses it to hold the door open for company. She also uses it as an excuse.
"No, I can't walk today, my hand hurts too much to use my cane and my hip hurts so I can't walk without it." When that is really the case she refuses to let the pain get her. When she doesn't want to do something (like go to the doctor's office, see people she doesn't like or go for a walk however...). So, because of the complaints and because I do know she is hurting I've been trying for five years to get her to go see someone about getting her hip replaced. She already had both her knees replaced and was much happier afterward, so...
But for the five years she has been dragging her feet, artificial knees, thighs and bad hip on the subject. Now that I have help with Nana, in the form of the very talented Lindsey, Nana has run out of excuses and had to go get evaluated. Now understand I wasn't there, but 1) I had faith in Lindsey, 2) I have seen this doctor before during the great horse/broken humorous caper and 3) I have a lot of faith in him.
When I got home yesterday Nana was doing the geriactric equivalent of Handspring's over the house and anyone's equivalent of "The Twist" (that is not an exaggeration, she really was dancing). Frankly I was a little frightened. Then she told me about her visit.
"That doctor walked right back into the room, pulled down my pants and panties and jammed a needle in my butt and now I can walk!" She went on to explain how when the doctor entered at first she didn't even know he was a doctor. He was so young and so friendly she assumed he was the orderly and so she was very confused when he came back with needle and pulled on her clothes. Then she felt so good she didn't care. Lindsey explained later that he was the doctor, though Lindsey also said he had introduced himself very politely. Nana also insists that he remembers me from four years ago. "He said to tell you hi." I asked if she mentioned why I had seen him (that stupidity he might remember...). "Oh no, I just said Sandy is my granddaughter and she said you were her doctor and that you were nice. Then he said,'tell her I said hi' so I know he remembers you." Nana and I do not have the same last name by the way...
The only cloud in all of this to Nana is that she does have to go to physical therapy. "I hate exercise! Do I have to wear tights?" She is thrilled that no surgery is needed, though an MRI has been scheduled just to be sure.
But you can't get much funnier or silly than an 82 year old doing the twist through the house in her underwear with two Shelties dancing and barking around her. You also can't get much more non-philosophic than that either. Enjoy!
Nana walks with a cane. It is really an extension of her hand really. She points with it. Drags things with it. She herds the dogs with it and occasionally disciplines them with it (a slight tap on the butt when they rough house too much...) She pokes me with it to get my attention. She uses it to hold the door open for company. She also uses it as an excuse.
"No, I can't walk today, my hand hurts too much to use my cane and my hip hurts so I can't walk without it." When that is really the case she refuses to let the pain get her. When she doesn't want to do something (like go to the doctor's office, see people she doesn't like or go for a walk however...). So, because of the complaints and because I do know she is hurting I've been trying for five years to get her to go see someone about getting her hip replaced. She already had both her knees replaced and was much happier afterward, so...
But for the five years she has been dragging her feet, artificial knees, thighs and bad hip on the subject. Now that I have help with Nana, in the form of the very talented Lindsey, Nana has run out of excuses and had to go get evaluated. Now understand I wasn't there, but 1) I had faith in Lindsey, 2) I have seen this doctor before during the great horse/broken humorous caper and 3) I have a lot of faith in him.
When I got home yesterday Nana was doing the geriactric equivalent of Handspring's over the house and anyone's equivalent of "The Twist" (that is not an exaggeration, she really was dancing). Frankly I was a little frightened. Then she told me about her visit.
"That doctor walked right back into the room, pulled down my pants and panties and jammed a needle in my butt and now I can walk!" She went on to explain how when the doctor entered at first she didn't even know he was a doctor. He was so young and so friendly she assumed he was the orderly and so she was very confused when he came back with needle and pulled on her clothes. Then she felt so good she didn't care. Lindsey explained later that he was the doctor, though Lindsey also said he had introduced himself very politely. Nana also insists that he remembers me from four years ago. "He said to tell you hi." I asked if she mentioned why I had seen him (that stupidity he might remember...). "Oh no, I just said Sandy is my granddaughter and she said you were her doctor and that you were nice. Then he said,'tell her I said hi' so I know he remembers you." Nana and I do not have the same last name by the way...
The only cloud in all of this to Nana is that she does have to go to physical therapy. "I hate exercise! Do I have to wear tights?" She is thrilled that no surgery is needed, though an MRI has been scheduled just to be sure.
But you can't get much funnier or silly than an 82 year old doing the twist through the house in her underwear with two Shelties dancing and barking around her. You also can't get much more non-philosophic than that either. Enjoy!
Wednesday, August 30, 2006
The Scarlet Ibis
One of the stories my students read each semester is "The Scarlet Ibis." It's an interesting story about a boy and his brother, Doodle, who has some unnamed handicap that makes walking difficult. The older brother pushes his younger brother to be able to move, get along and eventually walk. In the process of teaching his brother to run, his brother finally succumbs to the inevitable that the doctor had been warning about and dies. It is an interesting story and tends to cause a lot of reaction from students.
As an adult I find the story interesting because I can see that it is not the older boy's fault his brother died. Granted the older brother was not always nice, pushed his brother too hard sometimes, and was occasionally cruel. Most siblings do those things. In this case there were factors beyond both boys' control that neither understood. The older brother may have made a mistake in his actions, but what occurred was in no way proportionate to that mistake. Life is like that a lot I think. Mistakes and consequences out of proportion, in both directions.
Last year (2005) at summer camp I had a run in with another staffer. Up to that point we had been rather close. I thought of him as one of "my boys." We were rough housing (not uncommon) and I broke the locking mechanism on a strap that he used to keep his pocket knife attached to his belt. The locking mechanism wasn't the only thing that snapped. Only now, over a year later is there anything resembling a comfortable friendship between the two of us again. I've never understood why. He's never told me and I don't think I can ask. The reaction was not proportionate to what occurred. I suffered a lot of guilt over the whole mess, and there were a lot of uncomfortable incidents at camp during the off season because of it.
Five years ago a good friend that I trusted compiled a list of 50 things she hated about me and I came across it one day when I was doing some housekeeping. This happened two days after she announced that, while she had volunteered and we had already made plans accordingly because of it, she was not moving to Georgia with me. This ended up costing me $1000 in moving costs because I had originally planned on her being with me during the move. When I saw the list I was beyond furious, beyond hurt and beyond betrayed. Yet I never told her, never yelled at her (which with my temper is saying something) and just let it go. We even stayed in touch. She continued to act like she thought of me as a good, close friend. Several years later I let her come visit me and she even came to camp. I introduced her to the man she later married (he was a good new friend of mine that I met just after moving here) and let her live with Nana and I for the 13 months before their wedding. I sang in the wedding. Now she works for me helping to care for Nana (She lost her last job to budget cuts right after she got married.) My original reaction to the situation five years ago was not anywhere near proportion to what she had done. People who know most of the story have commented on it to this day. Because of the fact that I didn't loose my temper back then, I have the help I desperately need with Nana now (and she's gown up a lot since that whole mess, otherwise she wouldn't be caring for Nana). By the same token she once asked me why we aren't the same kind of close friends that we were all those years ago when we were roommates the first time. I've never had the heart to explain it to her. Mostly I just stammered something about people changing over time and so friendships do. The few times we have argued since she moved here I tend to get angrier than the situation calls for though... Makes you think...
This past summer I put a good friend in a really awkward situation, though he says I didn't. Then I made a bad judgment call because I was really upset about that situation and let some other friends make some bad decisions that I should have/could have/ would have normally stopped. They also seem to feel it was not that big a deal. In terms of repercussions none of it was, in that nothing happened in the long term. I'm still good friends with the one and the others and everyone is healthy, happy and whole... So, no big right? Again, I'm not sure that the mistakes and the repercussions were in proportion.
The students and I talked today about decisions we make as young people and the repercussions that occur. A fifteen year old has sex and gets pregnant. She is now a parent which is a major repercussion for a common mistake of youth, nothing happened to her sister when she did the same thing. Yet another fifteen year old makes big mistake and gets drunk, but nothing happens, no one gets hurt and they go on with their lives mostly unaffected. Two people try Cocaine; one dies and the other just gets a buzz and is fine the next day. People drive all the time way over tired or over emotional, and sometimes they cause massive accidents and drunk people manage to get home with out killing anyone. My students had lots of examples personal and general about how the repercussions in life are rarely equal to the mistakes.
To a certain degree I guess some of this is what I was talking about yesterday when I talked about assumptions. We tend to assume that if we made the mistake before and nothing happened, we can make it again. We tend to assume that if nothing happens when we make a mistake that we got away with it, no harm no foul and that there is no damage. It is more than the issue of assumptions, however. Sometimes we make a minor mistake (though a mistake none the less) and the damage is massive. We never make that mistake again, hopefully, but we suffer for something that should not have been such a big deal. Sometimes we make a major mistake and nothing happens, but we continue to suffer because we know how close to ruin we came.
The Scarlet Ibis is a great story for that reason. I learn so much about my students each time we read it. I think they learn a lot too about themselves and the reality of life, mistakes, consequences and responsibility. Some times when I teach it, it is just a good class lesson, some days, like today, it is rather cathartic actually.
It was a nice surprise.
This is why I teach English. Somehow I don't think this is an experience I could have in a math class.
If you are interested the story is "The Scarlet Ibis" by James Hurst, I believe you can find it online. Let me know what you think.
That's several philosophic waxings in several days. Tomorrow (unless there is a really good reason otherwise) I plan to write something hysterical about nothing important.
As an adult I find the story interesting because I can see that it is not the older boy's fault his brother died. Granted the older brother was not always nice, pushed his brother too hard sometimes, and was occasionally cruel. Most siblings do those things. In this case there were factors beyond both boys' control that neither understood. The older brother may have made a mistake in his actions, but what occurred was in no way proportionate to that mistake. Life is like that a lot I think. Mistakes and consequences out of proportion, in both directions.
Last year (2005) at summer camp I had a run in with another staffer. Up to that point we had been rather close. I thought of him as one of "my boys." We were rough housing (not uncommon) and I broke the locking mechanism on a strap that he used to keep his pocket knife attached to his belt. The locking mechanism wasn't the only thing that snapped. Only now, over a year later is there anything resembling a comfortable friendship between the two of us again. I've never understood why. He's never told me and I don't think I can ask. The reaction was not proportionate to what occurred. I suffered a lot of guilt over the whole mess, and there were a lot of uncomfortable incidents at camp during the off season because of it.
Five years ago a good friend that I trusted compiled a list of 50 things she hated about me and I came across it one day when I was doing some housekeeping. This happened two days after she announced that, while she had volunteered and we had already made plans accordingly because of it, she was not moving to Georgia with me. This ended up costing me $1000 in moving costs because I had originally planned on her being with me during the move. When I saw the list I was beyond furious, beyond hurt and beyond betrayed. Yet I never told her, never yelled at her (which with my temper is saying something) and just let it go. We even stayed in touch. She continued to act like she thought of me as a good, close friend. Several years later I let her come visit me and she even came to camp. I introduced her to the man she later married (he was a good new friend of mine that I met just after moving here) and let her live with Nana and I for the 13 months before their wedding. I sang in the wedding. Now she works for me helping to care for Nana (She lost her last job to budget cuts right after she got married.) My original reaction to the situation five years ago was not anywhere near proportion to what she had done. People who know most of the story have commented on it to this day. Because of the fact that I didn't loose my temper back then, I have the help I desperately need with Nana now (and she's gown up a lot since that whole mess, otherwise she wouldn't be caring for Nana). By the same token she once asked me why we aren't the same kind of close friends that we were all those years ago when we were roommates the first time. I've never had the heart to explain it to her. Mostly I just stammered something about people changing over time and so friendships do. The few times we have argued since she moved here I tend to get angrier than the situation calls for though... Makes you think...
This past summer I put a good friend in a really awkward situation, though he says I didn't. Then I made a bad judgment call because I was really upset about that situation and let some other friends make some bad decisions that I should have/could have/ would have normally stopped. They also seem to feel it was not that big a deal. In terms of repercussions none of it was, in that nothing happened in the long term. I'm still good friends with the one and the others and everyone is healthy, happy and whole... So, no big right? Again, I'm not sure that the mistakes and the repercussions were in proportion.
The students and I talked today about decisions we make as young people and the repercussions that occur. A fifteen year old has sex and gets pregnant. She is now a parent which is a major repercussion for a common mistake of youth, nothing happened to her sister when she did the same thing. Yet another fifteen year old makes big mistake and gets drunk, but nothing happens, no one gets hurt and they go on with their lives mostly unaffected. Two people try Cocaine; one dies and the other just gets a buzz and is fine the next day. People drive all the time way over tired or over emotional, and sometimes they cause massive accidents and drunk people manage to get home with out killing anyone. My students had lots of examples personal and general about how the repercussions in life are rarely equal to the mistakes.
To a certain degree I guess some of this is what I was talking about yesterday when I talked about assumptions. We tend to assume that if we made the mistake before and nothing happened, we can make it again. We tend to assume that if nothing happens when we make a mistake that we got away with it, no harm no foul and that there is no damage. It is more than the issue of assumptions, however. Sometimes we make a minor mistake (though a mistake none the less) and the damage is massive. We never make that mistake again, hopefully, but we suffer for something that should not have been such a big deal. Sometimes we make a major mistake and nothing happens, but we continue to suffer because we know how close to ruin we came.
The Scarlet Ibis is a great story for that reason. I learn so much about my students each time we read it. I think they learn a lot too about themselves and the reality of life, mistakes, consequences and responsibility. Some times when I teach it, it is just a good class lesson, some days, like today, it is rather cathartic actually.
It was a nice surprise.
This is why I teach English. Somehow I don't think this is an experience I could have in a math class.
If you are interested the story is "The Scarlet Ibis" by James Hurst, I believe you can find it online. Let me know what you think.
That's several philosophic waxings in several days. Tomorrow (unless there is a really good reason otherwise) I plan to write something hysterical about nothing important.
Tuesday, August 29, 2006
What's it's made of U and ME
Today I spent the morning teaching my students about reasoning and assumptions. When you work logic problems first you have to ditch all assumptions in order to approach the project with an open mind. This lead to lots of discussions and many interesting ideas. Let me give you an example of a problem.
Jack and Jill lie dead on the floor surrounded by glass and water next to an open window. How did they die?
The students can ask yes or no questions to find the answer.
The answer is that Jack and Jill are goldfish and they died when the wind knocked their bowl over. We assume Jack and Jill are people. That is the problem.
Other problems deal with assumptions involving the word Cabin, gender, and people's stature. It is a neat little exercise. (We are studying a Sherlock Holmes mystery... This is the tie in.)
The point is the assumptions we make.
We assumed Jon Bennet's parents did it because they didn't answer questions fast enough and then they were investigated. We now assumed that Kerr did it because he confessed. We assume things all the time about people because of their race, gender, religion and other characteristics/preferences. We assume that beautiful people are more interesting, smarter and they all have dates on Saturday night. We assume that "ugly" people don't. We assume that because an actor plays a character we like that they themselves are people we would like, people we know or people we should be concerned with (personal life, political beliefs, religious beliefs, you name it). Further, we seem to assume we have the right to know all this. We assume that fat people eat too much and are lazy. We assume that tall people played basketball. We assume that financial success means happiness. We assume that a simple apology makes the problem go away.
My students assume that I won't really fail them and that the school won't really hold them back a year. They assume that I can't fail a whole class if they all don't turn in their homework. They assume that when I tell them there are consequences for their actions that I don't really mean it. They assume that when I ask the class to stop talking that I am not actually talking to them.
My life is full of assumptions. I assumed that simply calling my mother on her bad behavior and bad choices would make her stop and that if I loved her long enough and hard enough she would change. I assumed that if I just kept smiling, kept my head down and finished college and got a career that a husband and family would just drop right into my life. I assumed that I could never be so broken or hurt as to make the kind of bad judgment calls I made that awful Saturday night in July and that I could control the outcome. (Isn't it funny how arrogance and pride can look a lot like assumptions?) Further I assumed that just because I was sorry (and forgiven) that I would stop being bothered by it. I assumed that just because I ate less, and exercised more that this weight would just peel off easily in no time because I want it to.
Nothing is ever as simple as we assume. There is a reason that it's a bad idea.
Jack and Jill lie dead on the floor surrounded by glass and water next to an open window. How did they die?
The students can ask yes or no questions to find the answer.
The answer is that Jack and Jill are goldfish and they died when the wind knocked their bowl over. We assume Jack and Jill are people. That is the problem.
Other problems deal with assumptions involving the word Cabin, gender, and people's stature. It is a neat little exercise. (We are studying a Sherlock Holmes mystery... This is the tie in.)
The point is the assumptions we make.
We assumed Jon Bennet's parents did it because they didn't answer questions fast enough and then they were investigated. We now assumed that Kerr did it because he confessed. We assume things all the time about people because of their race, gender, religion and other characteristics/preferences. We assume that beautiful people are more interesting, smarter and they all have dates on Saturday night. We assume that "ugly" people don't. We assume that because an actor plays a character we like that they themselves are people we would like, people we know or people we should be concerned with (personal life, political beliefs, religious beliefs, you name it). Further, we seem to assume we have the right to know all this. We assume that fat people eat too much and are lazy. We assume that tall people played basketball. We assume that financial success means happiness. We assume that a simple apology makes the problem go away.
My students assume that I won't really fail them and that the school won't really hold them back a year. They assume that I can't fail a whole class if they all don't turn in their homework. They assume that when I tell them there are consequences for their actions that I don't really mean it. They assume that when I ask the class to stop talking that I am not actually talking to them.
My life is full of assumptions. I assumed that simply calling my mother on her bad behavior and bad choices would make her stop and that if I loved her long enough and hard enough she would change. I assumed that if I just kept smiling, kept my head down and finished college and got a career that a husband and family would just drop right into my life. I assumed that I could never be so broken or hurt as to make the kind of bad judgment calls I made that awful Saturday night in July and that I could control the outcome. (Isn't it funny how arrogance and pride can look a lot like assumptions?) Further I assumed that just because I was sorry (and forgiven) that I would stop being bothered by it. I assumed that just because I ate less, and exercised more that this weight would just peel off easily in no time because I want it to.
Nothing is ever as simple as we assume. There is a reason that it's a bad idea.
Monday, August 28, 2006
Define this...
It's Monday, Robin is back (!), and I can now blog at work again. Life is good.
Lots of people have had something to say about this whole Pluto mess, and the consensus I see is that demoting Pluto was stupid. They should have at least grandfathered the poor guy into the system and then moved on from there. Considering my earlier post, I guess I agree, but I keep coming back to this definition thing.
The thing is, I like definitions. Rules are comforting. Guidelines give structure, security, consistency and order to chaos. The flip side of that is that I also like definitions and rules because then I can break them, work around them, think out side their box and go beyond them. Yes, I know that's messed up. Before you consider me criminally insane (which you might anyway) let me give you some examples to explain.
When I was a first year teacher I became fascinated by a particular writing style, FanFiction. I became very interested in how I could get kids writing and thought this might be a good vehicle. So I played with lessons on it. Then I got another idea because of an educational program I had seen done by an actor (who shall remain nameless in this story because of his recent press) to get kids excited about Shakespeare, specifically Hamlet. I started making some phone calls and eventually ended up in talks with producers at Paramount studios to do an educational video series based on TV series on the WB. After two years of work the project was canked, but... Once we got going people often expressed surprise that I had gotten as far as I did and the methods which I had employed to get where I was. (Nothing illegal or immoral, just direct phone calls and letters, etc). "You shouldn't have been able to do that!" They would say. My answer was often, "Then I'm glad I didn't know that, but everyone else did. Cuts down on competition."
Further when I come up with a solution outside the box, I look much smarter that I really am and often smarter than those around me. This is a nice perception to perpetuate... Seeing as most of my friends will tell you usually if I am given too much time to myself to think I most often do really stupid things or really stupid and funny things. College and Summer Camp shinaningans all come to mind.
Definitions are also a good thing because they keep me out of trouble. Defined chain of command is a wonderful thing. And based on my earlier statements they also give you a wonderful method to get the better of an annoying boss. BCC on e-mail is wonderful for that and works best with clear chain of commands in place.
So, Pluto, you didn't know you were not a planet, so you pressed on anyway. I think you should get credit for that.
Lots of people have had something to say about this whole Pluto mess, and the consensus I see is that demoting Pluto was stupid. They should have at least grandfathered the poor guy into the system and then moved on from there. Considering my earlier post, I guess I agree, but I keep coming back to this definition thing.
The thing is, I like definitions. Rules are comforting. Guidelines give structure, security, consistency and order to chaos. The flip side of that is that I also like definitions and rules because then I can break them, work around them, think out side their box and go beyond them. Yes, I know that's messed up. Before you consider me criminally insane (which you might anyway) let me give you some examples to explain.
When I was a first year teacher I became fascinated by a particular writing style, FanFiction. I became very interested in how I could get kids writing and thought this might be a good vehicle. So I played with lessons on it. Then I got another idea because of an educational program I had seen done by an actor (who shall remain nameless in this story because of his recent press) to get kids excited about Shakespeare, specifically Hamlet. I started making some phone calls and eventually ended up in talks with producers at Paramount studios to do an educational video series based on TV series on the WB. After two years of work the project was canked, but... Once we got going people often expressed surprise that I had gotten as far as I did and the methods which I had employed to get where I was. (Nothing illegal or immoral, just direct phone calls and letters, etc). "You shouldn't have been able to do that!" They would say. My answer was often, "Then I'm glad I didn't know that, but everyone else did. Cuts down on competition."
Further when I come up with a solution outside the box, I look much smarter that I really am and often smarter than those around me. This is a nice perception to perpetuate... Seeing as most of my friends will tell you usually if I am given too much time to myself to think I most often do really stupid things or really stupid and funny things. College and Summer Camp shinaningans all come to mind.
Definitions are also a good thing because they keep me out of trouble. Defined chain of command is a wonderful thing. And based on my earlier statements they also give you a wonderful method to get the better of an annoying boss. BCC on e-mail is wonderful for that and works best with clear chain of commands in place.
So, Pluto, you didn't know you were not a planet, so you pressed on anyway. I think you should get credit for that.
Friday, August 25, 2006
You have been demoted!
Poor Pluto. What an identity crisis. Planet, Dwarf, Planet, Dwarf, Planet, Sister, Daughter, Sister, Daughter! I can hear science teachers in the middle of astronomy units all over America planning to take their textbooks home this weekend and try and fix this mess!
Further, the emotional damage to anyone's psyche, much less a planet's (no wait, dwarf!) of being declassified has to be horrendous. It's got me thinking about what other things should we have specific definitions for and demote objects out of...
Journalists: Must have no bias, no malice and a conscience.
This demotes 85% to "annoying people with microphones/cameras?"
Students: Must be prepared for class, capable of doing basic skills at each level, respectful of teacher's authority.
This demotes 90% to oversized babies in a daycare system.
Dogs: Must have fur, tail, sweet disposition, leash and obedience
This demotes 25% to rats with funny haircuts.
Politicians: Must have good intentions, an awareness of what those they represent want, good sense, a sense of humor and integrity
This demotes 95% to noisy, self-centered, corrupt things in expensive clothes.
American Citizens: Must have Civic Responsibility, Civic Pride, Civic Awareness, Class and a desire to follow the rules of the country that provides you with rights so that others can enjoy them too.
This demotes 50% to house guests who have overstayed their welcome.
Here is the problem with the whole demotion concept (though I appreciate the concept of clear cut definitions and science), Pluto is still there. It still has a name. Most of us think of it as a planet. None of us really ever want to go there (Mars, yes, I hear there are men there, Jupiter, yes, I hear the view of the night sky is amazing, but Pluto, no...) So for the rest of the world, Pluto will still be the ninth "planet," Geraldo Rivera is still a "journalist" and the children in my room are still "students."
This was not intended as a political, moral or ethical post. I'm not actually after anyone today, I just got to thinking about demotions on my way home from school. I thought of a lot of other really good ones, like the definition of man, woman, parent, human, dinner, literature, art, love, intelligence, food, diet, ADD, and a bunch of other stuff. Very few things came out favorably. While I could have gone on and listed a bunch, eventually I would have become offensive even to myself, so I just didn't.
Lastly, I guess I've never liked the idea of using size to classify anything's value...
Further, the emotional damage to anyone's psyche, much less a planet's (no wait, dwarf!) of being declassified has to be horrendous. It's got me thinking about what other things should we have specific definitions for and demote objects out of...
Journalists: Must have no bias, no malice and a conscience.
This demotes 85% to "annoying people with microphones/cameras?"
Students: Must be prepared for class, capable of doing basic skills at each level, respectful of teacher's authority.
This demotes 90% to oversized babies in a daycare system.
Dogs: Must have fur, tail, sweet disposition, leash and obedience
This demotes 25% to rats with funny haircuts.
Politicians: Must have good intentions, an awareness of what those they represent want, good sense, a sense of humor and integrity
This demotes 95% to noisy, self-centered, corrupt things in expensive clothes.
American Citizens: Must have Civic Responsibility, Civic Pride, Civic Awareness, Class and a desire to follow the rules of the country that provides you with rights so that others can enjoy them too.
This demotes 50% to house guests who have overstayed their welcome.
Here is the problem with the whole demotion concept (though I appreciate the concept of clear cut definitions and science), Pluto is still there. It still has a name. Most of us think of it as a planet. None of us really ever want to go there (Mars, yes, I hear there are men there, Jupiter, yes, I hear the view of the night sky is amazing, but Pluto, no...) So for the rest of the world, Pluto will still be the ninth "planet," Geraldo Rivera is still a "journalist" and the children in my room are still "students."
This was not intended as a political, moral or ethical post. I'm not actually after anyone today, I just got to thinking about demotions on my way home from school. I thought of a lot of other really good ones, like the definition of man, woman, parent, human, dinner, literature, art, love, intelligence, food, diet, ADD, and a bunch of other stuff. Very few things came out favorably. While I could have gone on and listed a bunch, eventually I would have become offensive even to myself, so I just didn't.
Lastly, I guess I've never liked the idea of using size to classify anything's value...
Thursday, August 24, 2006
Where are they now?
Maybe I'm the only one that does this, but sometimes when I get nostalgic I start googling people I've known through my life to see if I can find out how they are. It is kind of a fun game, actually.
First off, no matter how unique you think someone's name is, trust me, there is more than one. So first you have to figure out which one is the one you know. Then you have to track back through information, read between lines, etc to construct a "history" of sorts.
Having moved a dozen times or so by the time I finished high school, I've met a lot of people in my life. Maybe more than most my age. Sometimes I even get in touch with people when I find them and often they talk back. Something about being a very tall, very outspoken, very outgoing person makes me stick out in people's memories. I've been in airports and been remembered and I "come across" people, truly by accident, all the time too. It is such a small world that way.
The thing that surprises me most is how many of us don't end up where we thought we would be, but others are often less surprised by the outcome of our lives than we are. I was supposed to be a nurse in the navy, instead I'm an English teacher and I work with the boy scouts. This doesn't seem to suprise many people and not nearly as much as it surprises me in comparison to where I thought my life would be. When I "run across" people often I see that their lives do not follow the plans they had as children, but their lives make a lot of sense to me. It fits what I thought of them, etc.
The point was, I was wondering today and looking at people's lives and was happy to see how many people are in places where it seems they should be happy. Established in careers, getting married, having babies, winning awards (those are the best to find, they often include pictures and so I can satisfy the "Who got fat, skinny, ugly, pretty, etc?" curiosity.) Occasionally I do come across an obituary. That's sad. And those I'm often very sure I have the right person because of birth and geographical information. (Death is not in itself a bad thing, but when you figure my contemporaries are all in their 20's and 30's that is a life cut short no matter how you look at it...)
Once long ago I told a friend of mine that greatness happens in pockets. You know how writers, poets, actors, politicians all seem to have known each other before they became famous and then while developing in their own right are connected...? Sometimes I think I am looking for greatness in hopes I am in the pocket. Then you also have to get into definitions of greatness.
All those of you I have know, wherever you are, whatever you are doing, I bid you peace, and remember you fondly. God Bless!
First off, no matter how unique you think someone's name is, trust me, there is more than one. So first you have to figure out which one is the one you know. Then you have to track back through information, read between lines, etc to construct a "history" of sorts.
Having moved a dozen times or so by the time I finished high school, I've met a lot of people in my life. Maybe more than most my age. Sometimes I even get in touch with people when I find them and often they talk back. Something about being a very tall, very outspoken, very outgoing person makes me stick out in people's memories. I've been in airports and been remembered and I "come across" people, truly by accident, all the time too. It is such a small world that way.
The thing that surprises me most is how many of us don't end up where we thought we would be, but others are often less surprised by the outcome of our lives than we are. I was supposed to be a nurse in the navy, instead I'm an English teacher and I work with the boy scouts. This doesn't seem to suprise many people and not nearly as much as it surprises me in comparison to where I thought my life would be. When I "run across" people often I see that their lives do not follow the plans they had as children, but their lives make a lot of sense to me. It fits what I thought of them, etc.
The point was, I was wondering today and looking at people's lives and was happy to see how many people are in places where it seems they should be happy. Established in careers, getting married, having babies, winning awards (those are the best to find, they often include pictures and so I can satisfy the "Who got fat, skinny, ugly, pretty, etc?" curiosity.) Occasionally I do come across an obituary. That's sad. And those I'm often very sure I have the right person because of birth and geographical information. (Death is not in itself a bad thing, but when you figure my contemporaries are all in their 20's and 30's that is a life cut short no matter how you look at it...)
Once long ago I told a friend of mine that greatness happens in pockets. You know how writers, poets, actors, politicians all seem to have known each other before they became famous and then while developing in their own right are connected...? Sometimes I think I am looking for greatness in hopes I am in the pocket. Then you also have to get into definitions of greatness.
All those of you I have know, wherever you are, whatever you are doing, I bid you peace, and remember you fondly. God Bless!
Wednesday, August 23, 2006
Happy Dance!
No one likes being the bad guy, but I have to say that trumping a class full of rude children felt good today. I got the combination in a flash of inspiration and today some real work got done.
For every second of time they wasted in my class today, third period, I made them pay me back in being late for lunch. Today we sat a whole minute in total silence (Which seems like a long time under those circumstances) before they left for lunch. This put them firmly at the end of the lunch lines. Further if they are late to lunch they don't get to use the pillows or couches during reading time after lunch.
I can't wait to see what tomorrow brings. My gut says that the war isn't over, but for now I won a crucial battle. Tonight I will enjoy the success.
The fact that this is my gifted class, the best and brightest is probably what makes me craziest. These kids know better and further they are the kids who will be our leaders someday. What does it mean if they have no self discipline and no respect for authority. The other thing is they are really great kids, bright and funny and outgoing, but when they are rude, disrespectful and ignore directions all that potential disappears behind a shield of yuck!
It astounds me that no one has effectively taken them in hand. This is not testing limits in my opinion. No one has enforced order with these kids before. They seem genuinely puzzled and confused by my frustration with their behavior.
But tonight I am content.
For every second of time they wasted in my class today, third period, I made them pay me back in being late for lunch. Today we sat a whole minute in total silence (Which seems like a long time under those circumstances) before they left for lunch. This put them firmly at the end of the lunch lines. Further if they are late to lunch they don't get to use the pillows or couches during reading time after lunch.
I can't wait to see what tomorrow brings. My gut says that the war isn't over, but for now I won a crucial battle. Tonight I will enjoy the success.
The fact that this is my gifted class, the best and brightest is probably what makes me craziest. These kids know better and further they are the kids who will be our leaders someday. What does it mean if they have no self discipline and no respect for authority. The other thing is they are really great kids, bright and funny and outgoing, but when they are rude, disrespectful and ignore directions all that potential disappears behind a shield of yuck!
It astounds me that no one has effectively taken them in hand. This is not testing limits in my opinion. No one has enforced order with these kids before. They seem genuinely puzzled and confused by my frustration with their behavior.
But tonight I am content.
Tuesday, August 22, 2006
Teacher Frustration
It is really starting to be apparent to me that I am a better teacher with my team teacher. Having her out on maternity leave is starting to make me feel like someone cut off my right arm. This is funny to me because in the past I always thought team teaching was a stupid waste of resources. This was even when I was the team teacher, rather than the lead teacher.
I guess it just goes to show the difference a good match can make.
The kids in my classes this year simply do not understand the concept of following directions. The worst class of all is the gifted class. They are told to read silently, they literally talk the minute I say begin. When I ask them to stop, they do for two minutes, then they are back at it. I separate people, I discipline, nothing is working. I feel like I am turning into an ogre. I mean I can feel my skin turning green and my ears becoming funnels just thinking about it. I can't imagine what I look like in class. I wouldn't be surprised if a donkey, (who sounds like Eddie Murphy!) discussing onions and parfaits and layers, joined me in the near future!
Battle of wills is never a good thing in class. And to be fail this is not a willful thing on their part, I think, or I keep telling myself. Mostly no one has really made them stick to this before. I'm going to have to come up with something and quickly if I want this to be a good year all around for all of us.
Wouldn't t be nice if it was as simple as it is in the inspirational movies about teachers. Or even the books. While those movies and books are encouraging I also find them depressing. There is so much that is left out, the trial and error, the sleepless nights and no cool theme music to get your blood pumping. Those books and movies also make it sound like (or make me feel like anyway) that the rest of us teachers must be inadequate slugs who accomplish nothing because no one is making a movie about how I finally got little Tommy to do his homework once a week rather than once a month. Then there is also the fact that high school kids, 9th graders in general are just so different than any other year. Then again all grade levels will tell you that their year is unique. We are all right I imagine.
When I first started teaching I preferred 12th graders. "I can reason with them," I said. "9th grade is too close to middle school." But as a teacher I am more challenged (and therefore sometimes more rewarded) by 9th grade. I just don't have as much hair (what with all the pulling it out.)
Robin will be back on Monday. This has to get better.
I guess it just goes to show the difference a good match can make.
The kids in my classes this year simply do not understand the concept of following directions. The worst class of all is the gifted class. They are told to read silently, they literally talk the minute I say begin. When I ask them to stop, they do for two minutes, then they are back at it. I separate people, I discipline, nothing is working. I feel like I am turning into an ogre. I mean I can feel my skin turning green and my ears becoming funnels just thinking about it. I can't imagine what I look like in class. I wouldn't be surprised if a donkey, (who sounds like Eddie Murphy!) discussing onions and parfaits and layers, joined me in the near future!
Battle of wills is never a good thing in class. And to be fail this is not a willful thing on their part, I think, or I keep telling myself. Mostly no one has really made them stick to this before. I'm going to have to come up with something and quickly if I want this to be a good year all around for all of us.
Wouldn't t be nice if it was as simple as it is in the inspirational movies about teachers. Or even the books. While those movies and books are encouraging I also find them depressing. There is so much that is left out, the trial and error, the sleepless nights and no cool theme music to get your blood pumping. Those books and movies also make it sound like (or make me feel like anyway) that the rest of us teachers must be inadequate slugs who accomplish nothing because no one is making a movie about how I finally got little Tommy to do his homework once a week rather than once a month. Then there is also the fact that high school kids, 9th graders in general are just so different than any other year. Then again all grade levels will tell you that their year is unique. We are all right I imagine.
When I first started teaching I preferred 12th graders. "I can reason with them," I said. "9th grade is too close to middle school." But as a teacher I am more challenged (and therefore sometimes more rewarded) by 9th grade. I just don't have as much hair (what with all the pulling it out.)
Robin will be back on Monday. This has to get better.
Monday, August 21, 2006
Excuse Me?
Warning! Camp Flashback!
Today I got an e-mail from the people who run the people who run camp (no that was not a typo). Seems a mother e-mailed them complaining that I didn't take her son's illness seriously enough, didn't contact her, threatened her child, called him a baby and (drum roll please) ruined their vacation. The e-mail was clearly worded to indicate that she thought I ought to be fired. Personally I would love to post the piece of trash and explain what a bovine, spoiled brat she and her child are in excruciating detail, but my rule is I never post other people's e-mails on my blog. So instead, let me tell you what it said!
She explained that her child came to me on the last Thursday of the last week of June (she waited over a month to complain about something she feels I should be fired for????) and that he told me he had strep, that his sister had just had strep and having had it before he knew it was strep. Apparently I told him he was just dehydrated, called him a homesick baby and threatened to drill needles into his arm full of IV fluids if he came back to see me, because he was simply dehydrated. This meant that he being terrified of me, didn't come back and when his parents came to get him Friday afternoon (early, I might add) he was now very sick, and they had to scramble for Urgent Care, find an all night pharmacy (much stress and misery on their part is explained and documented here) and then said boy was horribly sick during the first two days of vacation and ruined it for everyone. This is all the "camp nurse's fault." Besides, strep is not something you play around with (No? I play pong with it daily!) and I should at least be reprimanded. I should have taken her child's whining and complaining seriously, because she knows he would never be homesick or snivelling, much less dehydrated!
Yes, the air is thin here up on my high horse.
I could scream.
Thankfully this letter was sent to the people who run the BSA council and they apologized on camp's behalf for any dissatisfaction and are going to go over the case so I can better serve people next summer. If it had been sent to me I would have told the woman to enroll her son in Liar's Anonymous and get herself some therapy and a reality check.
Any child who comes into my office complaining of Strep symptoms, who tells me about family with strep or who thinks they have strep is examined for strep (throat peak, gland check and fever check). Then I have them come back if there are no signs, but symptoms persist. I have been known to show hesitant drinkers my hypodermic needle, but I have never threatened anyone with an IV or told them not to come back (counterproductive for several reasons smart people can think of). Often an easy way to contract an illness is to be dehydrated, and having no recollection of this kid or this case, I imagine the kid reeked of ketosis which is how I know they are dehydrated. (Yes, I smell children to diagnose, it works!) I have never ever even called a camper a baby, cry baby or moron to their face and I never even use the terms to their scout leaders, though the scout leader often use the term for the child to me.
Then there is the timing. If it happened Thursday night, and they got there Friday afternoon, how could the outcome have been much different? Even if they came up Thursday night, still would have been an Urgent Care, midnight pharmacy run (and don't most Urgent Care's and Emergency rooms have some pharmacy ability for just this reason?) I figure either the scoutmaster said this stuff to the kid and the kid is blaming me, or the parents were mad at the kid for "ruining" their vacation and he therefore passed the buck or mom is an idiot and the apple didn't fall far from the tree! (How is that for Christian love and understanding!)
The thing about this is I hate people who lie, pass the buck and complain in such a way that they risk nothing and are just being mean and spiteful. This woman said she wanted to be constructive. As a teacher (And an English one at that) there was nothing in her letter the least bit helpful or constructive. It was just unnecessary. I hope it made her feel better.
In the grand scheme of things it doesn't matter anyway, the camp people essentially backed me, though smoothing over ruffled feathers, and it's August now, so who cares! But grrrrrr!
That still just frosts my flakes!
Today I got an e-mail from the people who run the people who run camp (no that was not a typo). Seems a mother e-mailed them complaining that I didn't take her son's illness seriously enough, didn't contact her, threatened her child, called him a baby and (drum roll please) ruined their vacation. The e-mail was clearly worded to indicate that she thought I ought to be fired. Personally I would love to post the piece of trash and explain what a bovine, spoiled brat she and her child are in excruciating detail, but my rule is I never post other people's e-mails on my blog. So instead, let me tell you what it said!
She explained that her child came to me on the last Thursday of the last week of June (she waited over a month to complain about something she feels I should be fired for????) and that he told me he had strep, that his sister had just had strep and having had it before he knew it was strep. Apparently I told him he was just dehydrated, called him a homesick baby and threatened to drill needles into his arm full of IV fluids if he came back to see me, because he was simply dehydrated. This meant that he being terrified of me, didn't come back and when his parents came to get him Friday afternoon (early, I might add) he was now very sick, and they had to scramble for Urgent Care, find an all night pharmacy (much stress and misery on their part is explained and documented here) and then said boy was horribly sick during the first two days of vacation and ruined it for everyone. This is all the "camp nurse's fault." Besides, strep is not something you play around with (No? I play pong with it daily!) and I should at least be reprimanded. I should have taken her child's whining and complaining seriously, because she knows he would never be homesick or snivelling, much less dehydrated!
Yes, the air is thin here up on my high horse.
I could scream.
Thankfully this letter was sent to the people who run the BSA council and they apologized on camp's behalf for any dissatisfaction and are going to go over the case so I can better serve people next summer. If it had been sent to me I would have told the woman to enroll her son in Liar's Anonymous and get herself some therapy and a reality check.
Any child who comes into my office complaining of Strep symptoms, who tells me about family with strep or who thinks they have strep is examined for strep (throat peak, gland check and fever check). Then I have them come back if there are no signs, but symptoms persist. I have been known to show hesitant drinkers my hypodermic needle, but I have never threatened anyone with an IV or told them not to come back (counterproductive for several reasons smart people can think of). Often an easy way to contract an illness is to be dehydrated, and having no recollection of this kid or this case, I imagine the kid reeked of ketosis which is how I know they are dehydrated. (Yes, I smell children to diagnose, it works!) I have never ever even called a camper a baby, cry baby or moron to their face and I never even use the terms to their scout leaders, though the scout leader often use the term for the child to me.
Then there is the timing. If it happened Thursday night, and they got there Friday afternoon, how could the outcome have been much different? Even if they came up Thursday night, still would have been an Urgent Care, midnight pharmacy run (and don't most Urgent Care's and Emergency rooms have some pharmacy ability for just this reason?) I figure either the scoutmaster said this stuff to the kid and the kid is blaming me, or the parents were mad at the kid for "ruining" their vacation and he therefore passed the buck or mom is an idiot and the apple didn't fall far from the tree! (How is that for Christian love and understanding!)
The thing about this is I hate people who lie, pass the buck and complain in such a way that they risk nothing and are just being mean and spiteful. This woman said she wanted to be constructive. As a teacher (And an English one at that) there was nothing in her letter the least bit helpful or constructive. It was just unnecessary. I hope it made her feel better.
In the grand scheme of things it doesn't matter anyway, the camp people essentially backed me, though smoothing over ruffled feathers, and it's August now, so who cares! But grrrrrr!
That still just frosts my flakes!
Thursday, August 17, 2006
And how is that your business?
Granted, I recognize I am writing a blog which is about being open and putting it out there, etc, but that is my choice with my life and information, not anyone else's. If I discuss someone else I make sure that strangers wouldn't know who I am talking about and if it's not strangers I wouldn't say something about someone I know (who reads this blog or is known by people who do) that I wouldn't (and already have) most likely said to their face.
This is not the same issue.
This year at school I am the coverage coordinator. If a teacher has to go home for emergency or something at the last minute or if a sub doesn't show up for someone, I am in charge of coordinating teachers during their planning period to cover that absent teacher. Mostly it's just a matter of organization. Two things are kind of interesting about this responsibility. People always look slightly panicked when I enter their room (please don't tell me I have to give up my planning today!) and I end up knowing more about people at my job's personal lives than I ever thought I would. Usually if someone's not at work I think, "Oh, they aren't at work today. Hope they are okay, all they love are okay and if I can help they ask." Then I stop thinking about it. I have classes to teach, papers to grade, teenager's raging hormones/egos to crush. Now that I am coverage coordinator I stop by my assistant principal's office most mornings and check to see "what's up." Or if it happens in the middle of the day an administrator or teacher comes to me. More often than not, every time so far, I am told why that person is not there, going home, needs help, etc. Even then mostly it's no big. Sick, car trouble, kid sick, etc. But this month, so far a lot of people have morning sickness (which to be fair is the sign of a happy work place... People are comfortable enough here to be working on their families) and one person had a miscarriage (so you know, no one I work with has this blog address to my knowledge). Stuff like that doesn't stay secret anyway, but people keep asking me what I know, when I knew it and what I think.
And how is that any of your business? What difference does that make? Why do you care?
Does it make your day better? Don't you think if they considered you someone who should know they will include you. If they will isn't it their right to decide when? If I was willing to talk about their issues doesn't it stand to reason I'll talk about yours? Did you really want to have that dread, because in my position I will know. This is part of my responsibility so I am polite yet firm, but...
Life was easier when I only had to be "aware" of my own problems.
I expect these kinds of questions as the camp medic. People are curious why there was an ambulance at camp, are their kids safe, etc. I give generals, not specifics and most troops don't relay know each other. Besides, as long as the kid lived if someone asks directly about "that kid that fell, got cut, drowned, etc" I say, "They're fine, now." and leave it at that. If they ask the troop I check to make sure it isn't theirs (in which case I still stay vague, depending, but can be a little more specific for the sake of panic and spin control). If they ask for specifics of the injury I smile and say "Sorry can't discuss that." That is easy. Here at work, we all know each other, the conversation is different.
"Hey, so I'm covering for X. Is she pregnant?"
"I can't answer that."
"Does that mean yes?"
"No."
"So she's not. Or she's not anymore? Did she miscarry?"
"I can't answer that."
"Does that mean yes?"
"No!"
"What does it mean then?"
"It means I won't discuss people's personal lives like this!"
"Fine, don't get huffy. I was just curious. Besides if I have to cover for them I ought to know why."
"OK, when someone has to cover for you I'll be sure and tell them why you aren't there. How's the alcoholism, hepatitis and homosexuality coming?"
Yes, I made the last part up. I just smile and say "I'll let the administration know your concerns."
This is not the same issue.
This year at school I am the coverage coordinator. If a teacher has to go home for emergency or something at the last minute or if a sub doesn't show up for someone, I am in charge of coordinating teachers during their planning period to cover that absent teacher. Mostly it's just a matter of organization. Two things are kind of interesting about this responsibility. People always look slightly panicked when I enter their room (please don't tell me I have to give up my planning today!) and I end up knowing more about people at my job's personal lives than I ever thought I would. Usually if someone's not at work I think, "Oh, they aren't at work today. Hope they are okay, all they love are okay and if I can help they ask." Then I stop thinking about it. I have classes to teach, papers to grade, teenager's raging hormones/egos to crush. Now that I am coverage coordinator I stop by my assistant principal's office most mornings and check to see "what's up." Or if it happens in the middle of the day an administrator or teacher comes to me. More often than not, every time so far, I am told why that person is not there, going home, needs help, etc. Even then mostly it's no big. Sick, car trouble, kid sick, etc. But this month, so far a lot of people have morning sickness (which to be fair is the sign of a happy work place... People are comfortable enough here to be working on their families) and one person had a miscarriage (so you know, no one I work with has this blog address to my knowledge). Stuff like that doesn't stay secret anyway, but people keep asking me what I know, when I knew it and what I think.
And how is that any of your business? What difference does that make? Why do you care?
Does it make your day better? Don't you think if they considered you someone who should know they will include you. If they will isn't it their right to decide when? If I was willing to talk about their issues doesn't it stand to reason I'll talk about yours? Did you really want to have that dread, because in my position I will know. This is part of my responsibility so I am polite yet firm, but...
Life was easier when I only had to be "aware" of my own problems.
I expect these kinds of questions as the camp medic. People are curious why there was an ambulance at camp, are their kids safe, etc. I give generals, not specifics and most troops don't relay know each other. Besides, as long as the kid lived if someone asks directly about "that kid that fell, got cut, drowned, etc" I say, "They're fine, now." and leave it at that. If they ask the troop I check to make sure it isn't theirs (in which case I still stay vague, depending, but can be a little more specific for the sake of panic and spin control). If they ask for specifics of the injury I smile and say "Sorry can't discuss that." That is easy. Here at work, we all know each other, the conversation is different.
"Hey, so I'm covering for X. Is she pregnant?"
"I can't answer that."
"Does that mean yes?"
"No."
"So she's not. Or she's not anymore? Did she miscarry?"
"I can't answer that."
"Does that mean yes?"
"No!"
"What does it mean then?"
"It means I won't discuss people's personal lives like this!"
"Fine, don't get huffy. I was just curious. Besides if I have to cover for them I ought to know why."
"OK, when someone has to cover for you I'll be sure and tell them why you aren't there. How's the alcoholism, hepatitis and homosexuality coming?"
Yes, I made the last part up. I just smile and say "I'll let the administration know your concerns."
Wednesday, August 16, 2006
I resign
Called Dad yesterday and resigned as an adult. It cost over $1500 to get everything fixed on my car. I told Dad I was ready to go back to being a kid and I needed him to help me figure out how to manage all this stuff. He just laughed.
Nana told me that she thinks I take incredibly good care of things. "Look at all you've accomplished in forty years." Thanks, Nana, I'm thirty.
Parent's night was Tuesday. As I was talking to a mom and her son, the dear boy looked at me and said, "What did you read when you were young." Not younger, just young. Because I'm not young anymore. Apparently.
So I am resigning as a adult. I want to go back to being young.
Oh, and this is so precious. The little boy of my trainer was trying to explain to his Dad that it wasn't his fault that he yelled and carried on last night, he had just gotten "over-exaggerated." We had a good laugh about that one. Guess you have to be an adult to find it funny though. When I mentioned it to my students didn't get it. Maybe age has a perk or two?
Nana told me that she thinks I take incredibly good care of things. "Look at all you've accomplished in forty years." Thanks, Nana, I'm thirty.
Parent's night was Tuesday. As I was talking to a mom and her son, the dear boy looked at me and said, "What did you read when you were young." Not younger, just young. Because I'm not young anymore. Apparently.
So I am resigning as a adult. I want to go back to being young.
Oh, and this is so precious. The little boy of my trainer was trying to explain to his Dad that it wasn't his fault that he yelled and carried on last night, he had just gotten "over-exaggerated." We had a good laugh about that one. Guess you have to be an adult to find it funny though. When I mentioned it to my students didn't get it. Maybe age has a perk or two?
Monday, August 14, 2006
The Birth of a book
So today I was sitting in class as my students listened to "The Birds" and I began working on my novel, tweaking, looking, etc and just hit a vein and before I knew there were pages everywhere. What a rush! I imagine I'll hate it all tomorrow and rip it up, but for tonight I am content to bask in the purge of words.
I wrote my first stories in second grade I think, no wait, first. It was about George and Martha. Those two hippos from James Marshall. I met him, actually. He was really neat. Or a first graders idea of really neat. Then in second grade I wrote a story about Peter Rabbit, Beatrix Potters' playmate. I didn't really write much like that again until I was in middle school. Then the stuff was pouring out of me.
I remember in 10th grade working on a story and two of my friends would get to gym class early every morning so they could read the next bit. That's also the year I started to work on my novel. I wrote everyday, all the time. I had over 100 hand written pages (front and back single spaced!) Several of my class mates commented that I was a freak. Well, they tended to call me that anyway, but one boy (and if I get this novel published I think I will dedicate it to him...) turned around, looked at me and said, you wrote all that? I said, rather defensively, yeah. He smiled and said cool. We were never really close friends, and we never really hung out. When I saw him at the reunion almost two years ago now, I thanked him, but he didn't remember. But I kept writing.
In college I wrote a lot. Not on the novel, but a lot. Then as I started really working on my English degree and my masters, the writing kind of dried up. Well sort of. I wrote a lot of poetry in grad school, but it was all that love-angst kind of stuff. It was also all very religious, except for the one about the toilet in love with the sink. That one I may get published someday too. It's called a "Water Closet Romance."
Then a couple years ago I got this idea to work on the novel again. I felt like I couldn't go on to any other big projects until this one was completed. Like having a fifteen year old fetus still dragging around. So I keep trying. I think I actually have the plan all worked out and a decent beginning. Maybe if today was an indication. This baby is ready to be born. I may not ever show it to anyone, but it will be completed. I think it's time.
I wrote my first stories in second grade I think, no wait, first. It was about George and Martha. Those two hippos from James Marshall. I met him, actually. He was really neat. Or a first graders idea of really neat. Then in second grade I wrote a story about Peter Rabbit, Beatrix Potters' playmate. I didn't really write much like that again until I was in middle school. Then the stuff was pouring out of me.
I remember in 10th grade working on a story and two of my friends would get to gym class early every morning so they could read the next bit. That's also the year I started to work on my novel. I wrote everyday, all the time. I had over 100 hand written pages (front and back single spaced!) Several of my class mates commented that I was a freak. Well, they tended to call me that anyway, but one boy (and if I get this novel published I think I will dedicate it to him...) turned around, looked at me and said, you wrote all that? I said, rather defensively, yeah. He smiled and said cool. We were never really close friends, and we never really hung out. When I saw him at the reunion almost two years ago now, I thanked him, but he didn't remember. But I kept writing.
In college I wrote a lot. Not on the novel, but a lot. Then as I started really working on my English degree and my masters, the writing kind of dried up. Well sort of. I wrote a lot of poetry in grad school, but it was all that love-angst kind of stuff. It was also all very religious, except for the one about the toilet in love with the sink. That one I may get published someday too. It's called a "Water Closet Romance."
Then a couple years ago I got this idea to work on the novel again. I felt like I couldn't go on to any other big projects until this one was completed. Like having a fifteen year old fetus still dragging around. So I keep trying. I think I actually have the plan all worked out and a decent beginning. Maybe if today was an indication. This baby is ready to be born. I may not ever show it to anyone, but it will be completed. I think it's time.
Thursday, August 10, 2006
Readjusting
First, not being able to blog at school is frustrating. I mean I know why they did it and all, but that is my best writing time. It's harder at home and I want to write everyday... At least weekday like last year.
Also, now that I'm working out again and with out Robin at school, I'm just tired. I imagine it will take a week or so more to get back into the swing.
In some ways I have simplified this year a lot in comparison to previous. No big projects this semester (so far anyway) and I am not planning to try to start any. Other ways it is more hectic. It's like each day, each year gets shorter each time. Is this growing old? God Help me!
Pipper is back from the vet and a much happier Sheltie. Apparently he fractured a back tooth and then an infection developed underneath the root. Yikes! They pulled the tooth and he's eating again. Between him and Roo the bill (dental, care, medicine, blood tests, you name it) topped $700. Nana and I just laughed and said, "They're worth it." And they are, but my teeth don't even cost that much and my mouth is bigger and I bite more often! Also, the only way he could have fractured a tooth was if he was chewing on rocks? Why would he do that? All he has to do is wait for Nana to doze off and he can have whatever is on her plate? Rocks!
Roo refused to use the stairs I got her so that she can get into bed herself. She just looks at me like, "You don't love me anymore?" When I try to get her to try.
Overheard in the hallway as I exited to run an errand, "That is one big lady." "Do you think she is Hagrid's sister?"
Also, now that I'm working out again and with out Robin at school, I'm just tired. I imagine it will take a week or so more to get back into the swing.
In some ways I have simplified this year a lot in comparison to previous. No big projects this semester (so far anyway) and I am not planning to try to start any. Other ways it is more hectic. It's like each day, each year gets shorter each time. Is this growing old? God Help me!
Pipper is back from the vet and a much happier Sheltie. Apparently he fractured a back tooth and then an infection developed underneath the root. Yikes! They pulled the tooth and he's eating again. Between him and Roo the bill (dental, care, medicine, blood tests, you name it) topped $700. Nana and I just laughed and said, "They're worth it." And they are, but my teeth don't even cost that much and my mouth is bigger and I bite more often! Also, the only way he could have fractured a tooth was if he was chewing on rocks? Why would he do that? All he has to do is wait for Nana to doze off and he can have whatever is on her plate? Rocks!
Roo refused to use the stairs I got her so that she can get into bed herself. She just looks at me like, "You don't love me anymore?" When I try to get her to try.
Overheard in the hallway as I exited to run an errand, "That is one big lady." "Do you think she is Hagrid's sister?"
Wednesday, August 09, 2006
Closure... New Birth
Robin had a beautiful baby girl on Friday night. Nora Simone. What a blessing!
On Monday I went to the "Final" Director's meeting for camp. Final as in final one from this summer. In a couple months we start this whole circus over again getting ready for next summer. Anyway. The meeting.
Actually it was a dinner. The night before I had a really long talk with one of my best friends up at camp. It was a good talk. We had been through a lot this summer, especially the last few days and I was very worried that there might be damage, especially the unrepairable kind. Nope, he was just really busy. He even rode with me the next day to the meeting. It was over an hour either way. We had a lot of time to talk then too.
It is amazing to me what real friendship is. One of the things I find the most fascinating about people is our relationships, how we deal with each other. This was one of those moments. It was epiphanic too as I saw how much I mattered to others. That I matter at all, even.
Also, just to finally let go the horror that was the last Saturday night at camp and the hell that ensued. The mistakes, the panic, the doubt and the self loathing that comes from bad choices, bad luck and bad timing. (Makes it sound like I decided to tight-rope walk across an alligator infested swamp and took a few friends with me and then had to hall them all out of the swamp when the rope caught on fire... Doesn't it? It wasn't actually anything all that bad in the end, I just wish it had gone differently.) When he and I talked about everything and got it all out, I was able to let it all go. I could finally find the humor in the whole mess (and trust me there was a lot there too) and for me the moment I can find the humor, I can find the positive and the negative becomes of negligible effect on me for the most part. Also, getting it worked out on earth also helped me be able to really get it worked out with God and that's the best part.
This week I've started back with my trainer after my 11 week hiatus. The exercise machines are kicking my butt. Yet, I feel good. Monday night, last night and I imagine tonight are some of the best sleep I've had in months. My heart and soul feel lighter and maybe my body too?
Lastly, as a unrelated note, if you have ever read Harrison Bergeron by Kurt Vaughnagut. Robin's sub attempted to equate the story to the Taliban today in my first period. I think I need to find things for him to do as far away from my lessons as possible.
On Monday I went to the "Final" Director's meeting for camp. Final as in final one from this summer. In a couple months we start this whole circus over again getting ready for next summer. Anyway. The meeting.
Actually it was a dinner. The night before I had a really long talk with one of my best friends up at camp. It was a good talk. We had been through a lot this summer, especially the last few days and I was very worried that there might be damage, especially the unrepairable kind. Nope, he was just really busy. He even rode with me the next day to the meeting. It was over an hour either way. We had a lot of time to talk then too.
It is amazing to me what real friendship is. One of the things I find the most fascinating about people is our relationships, how we deal with each other. This was one of those moments. It was epiphanic too as I saw how much I mattered to others. That I matter at all, even.
Also, just to finally let go the horror that was the last Saturday night at camp and the hell that ensued. The mistakes, the panic, the doubt and the self loathing that comes from bad choices, bad luck and bad timing. (Makes it sound like I decided to tight-rope walk across an alligator infested swamp and took a few friends with me and then had to hall them all out of the swamp when the rope caught on fire... Doesn't it? It wasn't actually anything all that bad in the end, I just wish it had gone differently.) When he and I talked about everything and got it all out, I was able to let it all go. I could finally find the humor in the whole mess (and trust me there was a lot there too) and for me the moment I can find the humor, I can find the positive and the negative becomes of negligible effect on me for the most part. Also, getting it worked out on earth also helped me be able to really get it worked out with God and that's the best part.
This week I've started back with my trainer after my 11 week hiatus. The exercise machines are kicking my butt. Yet, I feel good. Monday night, last night and I imagine tonight are some of the best sleep I've had in months. My heart and soul feel lighter and maybe my body too?
Lastly, as a unrelated note, if you have ever read Harrison Bergeron by Kurt Vaughnagut. Robin's sub attempted to equate the story to the Taliban today in my first period. I think I need to find things for him to do as far away from my lessons as possible.
Friday, August 04, 2006
Dumb, Dumb, Dumb, Dumb, DUMB!
Every class has it's own personality. This year's 9th graders are quickly establishing their to us. Last year was the year of the arrogant freshman. They figured they knew everything. This year, well, new problem.
This group will do just about anything that comes into their mind. Another one of my children was suspended to day. He brought alcohol to school yesterday. He and several friends. Someone squealed on them. So today they were searched. No alcohol. However, when cornered they broke down crying and confessed all. Oh my goodness!
Meanwhile another group of students decided that they didn't like their lockers so they took over some other people's (the locks themselves have not been distributed yet) and then got very upset when low and behold their stuff disappeared. They even went to the School Resource Officer, who in turn came to me to find out who owned which lockers. What a mess. We found everything, but what a mess.
Then there is the weirdest one yet. Actually the Dad is a nut case. He has decided that the school is releasing Social Security numbers of students to other parents that the school board favors and then allowing those parents to manipulate other students' schedules to suit their children. No I am not making this up. He won't sign anything we send home either and accused us of bullying his daughter by asking her to take it home to him to sign. Further he has actually filed a restraining order against another family saying that they manipulated his child's schedule. He feels we are an awful school, awful system and we are negatively affecting his daughter (she get's straight A's by the way...).
Dumb has to do with choices, none of these kids are stupid, by the way...
Then of course there is dear Robin, my very pregnant team teacher. Her plug came out today. At first she thought her water broke, but it was just the plug. Then she realized at the end of the school day that she was in fact in labor. I hope the baby comes quick and easy for her.
Oops! Lightning. Better go!
This group will do just about anything that comes into their mind. Another one of my children was suspended to day. He brought alcohol to school yesterday. He and several friends. Someone squealed on them. So today they were searched. No alcohol. However, when cornered they broke down crying and confessed all. Oh my goodness!
Meanwhile another group of students decided that they didn't like their lockers so they took over some other people's (the locks themselves have not been distributed yet) and then got very upset when low and behold their stuff disappeared. They even went to the School Resource Officer, who in turn came to me to find out who owned which lockers. What a mess. We found everything, but what a mess.
Then there is the weirdest one yet. Actually the Dad is a nut case. He has decided that the school is releasing Social Security numbers of students to other parents that the school board favors and then allowing those parents to manipulate other students' schedules to suit their children. No I am not making this up. He won't sign anything we send home either and accused us of bullying his daughter by asking her to take it home to him to sign. Further he has actually filed a restraining order against another family saying that they manipulated his child's schedule. He feels we are an awful school, awful system and we are negatively affecting his daughter (she get's straight A's by the way...).
Dumb has to do with choices, none of these kids are stupid, by the way...
Then of course there is dear Robin, my very pregnant team teacher. Her plug came out today. At first she thought her water broke, but it was just the plug. Then she realized at the end of the school day that she was in fact in labor. I hope the baby comes quick and easy for her.
Oops! Lightning. Better go!
Thursday, August 03, 2006
How do you do that?
So today one of my students wasn't in class because he was suspended. The incident happened on the first day of school. Ten buck says he doesn't last two more weeks.
Aren't I awful. I really like my kids this year. I see some real potential, but I feel kind of negative/cynical for thinking that about this kid. Did I mention he's 17 and this is his 3rd time around the block in 9th grade?
Now, I have to stop this.
Poor Robin, my team teacher. She is now a full week past her due date. No dilation. No efacement. She's actually pretty happy and adamantly does not want to be induced. She keeps coming to work and continues to work at her part time job in a garden store as well. This woman is one of those who would step into the next rice row, squat, give birth and be back at work with the baby strapped to her back. Oh My!
Lastly, I'm starting back with my trainer next week. This summer was supposed to be a real slim down for me, it usually is. Not this time. I didn't work out and I lost no weight (though I didn't gain.) If I really want to get started on my PhD next fall, this is it. I have to get down. So I am putting all kinds of things into place to make that possible. Here's hoping.
By the way. Is anyone else hot?
Aren't I awful. I really like my kids this year. I see some real potential, but I feel kind of negative/cynical for thinking that about this kid. Did I mention he's 17 and this is his 3rd time around the block in 9th grade?
Now, I have to stop this.
Poor Robin, my team teacher. She is now a full week past her due date. No dilation. No efacement. She's actually pretty happy and adamantly does not want to be induced. She keeps coming to work and continues to work at her part time job in a garden store as well. This woman is one of those who would step into the next rice row, squat, give birth and be back at work with the baby strapped to her back. Oh My!
Lastly, I'm starting back with my trainer next week. This summer was supposed to be a real slim down for me, it usually is. Not this time. I didn't work out and I lost no weight (though I didn't gain.) If I really want to get started on my PhD next fall, this is it. I have to get down. So I am putting all kinds of things into place to make that possible. Here's hoping.
By the way. Is anyone else hot?
Wednesday, August 02, 2006
Funny Flash or Flash of Funny...
Second day of class for students today. One of my students is already suspended. Oh My. Anyway, as I was watching my students take their first test (yes I give one on the second day, yes I am evil, yes I was told...) (Ok, OK, it ws just a pretest and they knew that...) I was thinking about camp and realized I had forgotten to share a story that happened week two. This one is a plum.
A scoutmaster had severe diabetes (no that is not the funny part) was suffering from low blood sugar. It happens a lot at camp especially if people are not on pump. With all the physical activity, heat, etc, it is easy for chemistry to be out of wack. Another scout leader came to get me and to get (of all things) cookies to give him. We ran to where he was, me frantically calling on the radio for someone in Medlodge to bring me my supply of fruit juice (the best alternative for low blood sugar, if the patient is aware enough to drink.)
Shooting sports heard me (remember my dear friend Drew?). "Can we help?"
"You don't have any juice."
"Can we help you?"
"You don't have any juice at shooting sports!"
Then as the juice arrived Drew comes flying up in his car.
"How can I help?"
"I got juice. Thanks, don't need any more help."
"Fine!"
Poor boy. He was very frustrated and just trying to help. He thought when I said that he had no juice that I was saying his radio wasn't working because the batteries were dead. The scoutmaster was fine in a matter of minutes once I got the juice in him.
OK, maybe it's not the funniest story, but it was the thought that kept me amused this afternoon.
A scoutmaster had severe diabetes (no that is not the funny part) was suffering from low blood sugar. It happens a lot at camp especially if people are not on pump. With all the physical activity, heat, etc, it is easy for chemistry to be out of wack. Another scout leader came to get me and to get (of all things) cookies to give him. We ran to where he was, me frantically calling on the radio for someone in Medlodge to bring me my supply of fruit juice (the best alternative for low blood sugar, if the patient is aware enough to drink.)
Shooting sports heard me (remember my dear friend Drew?). "Can we help?"
"You don't have any juice."
"Can we help you?"
"You don't have any juice at shooting sports!"
Then as the juice arrived Drew comes flying up in his car.
"How can I help?"
"I got juice. Thanks, don't need any more help."
"Fine!"
Poor boy. He was very frustrated and just trying to help. He thought when I said that he had no juice that I was saying his radio wasn't working because the batteries were dead. The scoutmaster was fine in a matter of minutes once I got the juice in him.
OK, maybe it's not the funniest story, but it was the thought that kept me amused this afternoon.
Tuesday, August 01, 2006
First Day of School Hodge Podge
So today the children arrived. I swear each year they get younger and younger. Look to be decent classes. Time will tell I imagine.
This year I am very optimistic about what I want to accomplish and I think it can all be done. Health goals, professional goals and personal goals all come into play. The beginning of the school year is a lot like New Year's or a birthday. So much promise, so much possibility.
This year however there is one shadow. I learned some important things this summer about myself, about what I was capable of. Lots of good things, but not everything. As I stood looking out at the faces of freshly scrubbed ninth graders, I found that I wasn't as confidant as to who I was this time. Not anything they would notice or would affect my teaching, but it was still a stray thought in the back of my mind.
Also, as of this writing my poor team teacher has not popped. Her due date was last week, but at this point she was hoping to hold out long enough to meet her students before going on maternity leave. She reached the goal. Now I'm waiting for her water to break in class. That has happened to her before apparently. She thinks it's funnier than the rest of us do.
Lastly, this morning as I came out of my classroom, ready to face the day I overheard some delightful children take a sharp intake of breath as I entered the hall, "That is one big lady!" I turned, smiled and said, "With excellent hearing, no less!" Poor children. They haven't learned to disconnect their mouths from their brains.
So the year begins.
I'm actually excited... More than the past few years. I have a feeling this is going to be a pivotal year for me. I've learned too much so far for it to not be.
This year I am very optimistic about what I want to accomplish and I think it can all be done. Health goals, professional goals and personal goals all come into play. The beginning of the school year is a lot like New Year's or a birthday. So much promise, so much possibility.
This year however there is one shadow. I learned some important things this summer about myself, about what I was capable of. Lots of good things, but not everything. As I stood looking out at the faces of freshly scrubbed ninth graders, I found that I wasn't as confidant as to who I was this time. Not anything they would notice or would affect my teaching, but it was still a stray thought in the back of my mind.
Also, as of this writing my poor team teacher has not popped. Her due date was last week, but at this point she was hoping to hold out long enough to meet her students before going on maternity leave. She reached the goal. Now I'm waiting for her water to break in class. That has happened to her before apparently. She thinks it's funnier than the rest of us do.
Lastly, this morning as I came out of my classroom, ready to face the day I overheard some delightful children take a sharp intake of breath as I entered the hall, "That is one big lady!" I turned, smiled and said, "With excellent hearing, no less!" Poor children. They haven't learned to disconnect their mouths from their brains.
So the year begins.
I'm actually excited... More than the past few years. I have a feeling this is going to be a pivotal year for me. I've learned too much so far for it to not be.
Sunday, July 30, 2006
Christmas in July
This blog is not for the easily offended.
At camp we have a tradition. Christmas in July. I prefer it to regular Christmas, frankly. I mean I love what real Christmas is for and what it stands for and all that and I love the season, but with my family politics and issues and Jerry Springer stupidity, I really don't care much for the holiday. Christmas at camp is totally wonderful though. Granted it has none of the really cool reasons, Savior's birth, Good will toward man, and all that, but in terms of true completely altruistic generosity it can't be beat. It is also a great time for pranks, jokes and the teasing that is love and support between staffers at camp. In the past we even had a big roast beef dinner and such, but that has gotten to be too much of a hassle. So now we do it on the second to last Wednesday of camp, have cookies and Nogless Eggnog and do a white elephant gift exchange. In addition lots of staffers exchange little gifts. The rule is cheap or home-made. I get a lot of gifts for people. They are a good method of encouragement to the people who sometimes don't feel encouraged. In addition for the past couple years all senior staff that have to stand duty (stay up at admin overnight to answer phones and back me up) receive, from me, a towel with their name embroidered on it.
The tradition started back four summers ago when I was the office manager. That summer I lived up in admin with the medic and he and I shared our bathroom with four guys who lived in the Ballard Cabin. The Ballard Cabin is a historical landmark. It is a one room cabin and while it has electricity has no pluming. It is too far away from the staff area for the boys that live there (usually older boys... Over 21... Who are kayaking instructors) to use the facilities so the medic shares the facilities up in admin with them. (And in admin, everyone has their own room, I have never had a room-mate at camp... just to be clear) That first year I was terribly smitten (kind of like how Rosie was smitten with Tom Cruise, except I'm not gay and he's normal...) with one of the instructors. He was adorable and sweet and very smart. He was working on his PhD in psychology. He was also about 5'6. But still adorable. Anyway, one day I ended up on the phone with his mom. We chatted a bit and then she explained who she was. And I said, "Oh, I know your son. We share a shower!" Yep, that's exactly what I said. Thankfully she had a sense of humor. The incident got around and so they started to call the medic, myself and the Ballard Boys, "The shower buddies." So that year for X-mas, myself, I embroidered all of our names on towels. I gave each one of the boys their towels with a card that said "Now you will think of me when you are naked." It was a big hit.
The next year when I was the medic several younger boys (17) remembered the incident and gave me towels for X-mas. Not embroidered by them, but pretty orange ones with big turquoise flowers. They also got the matching hand towel and wash cloth. Nana is terribly fond of them. So when several of the boys came over to do yard work for me that fall after that summer and Nana kept calling them the towel boys I explained to them that the only person thinking of them when they were naked was Nana. Anyway.
My second year as the medic we started the Director on Duty system and I wanted to find a way to thank these young men for helping me out and the towel idea just seemed to fit. This time I had them professionally done. Luckily one of our staffers mother's is the one who does the embroidering for our staff shirts and so she did the towels for me, essentially at cost. I gave the towels out a X-mas. I did it again this year as well as they were so well liked and appreciated last year.
I receive gifts too, but more often cards. Homemade X-mas cards that are very sweet though often misspelled and sloppily written. It's the thought that counts after all...
It is also a tradition for me to give the director of the dining hall, a man old enough to be my father (Mark, see previous posts) that I flirt outrageously with as inappropriate a gift as possible. Last year I gave him a lacy red bra and panty set. While I had never actually worn it, it was in my size. All in good fun. This year, during staff week, the kitchen staff ran that same gift up the flag poles during morning formation. Seeing as it was just staff present, I thought it was pretty funny. This year I promised Mark I would be more demure in my gift, so I gave him a white eyelit lace set. Very innocent looking. However I also gave him pictures of me wearing them (over my dark green scrubs) in a Christmas card with a picture of the Virgin Mary on the cover. It was a great catch twenty two. If he didn't look at them he would think I had taken racy photos. If he did I could call him a pervert for looking. The senior (read over 18 and out of high school) staff was in hysterics over it all day. There was one problem however.
I had sent Drew (24 year old shotgun istructor nicknamed, and I am not making this up, Tinkerbell) to pick the pictures up at Walmart. There were only two, developed as 5X7 glossys. Drew said the clerk gave him the dirtiest look when he picked them up (I don't see why I was completely dressed!) and he didn't know why until he got to the car and peeked. What he didn't tell me was that he decided to use this opportunity to help some of the high school boys in cabin 2 kick their porn habit (These boys are mostly 16 and seventeen, starting senior year in high school). He photocopied the pictures onto one sheet of paper and slipped the papers into all the boys' magazines he could find (I'm hoping that was only a couple...). So X-mas was on Wednesday. On Friday one of the boys, one of "my boys" actually, rather sheepishly handed me a folded up piece of paper and said, "Um, I think this is yours." Obviously I was slightly confused. Like I said, I was dressed and so there was nothing to be embarrassed about I just wanted to know how the boys got it, it hadn't really beed intended for the younger boys to see. Eventually I caught up to Drew. He confessed immediately, explaining that he figured that if the boys were surprised by a picture of someone they considered a big sister while they were "using" the magazines maybe it would curb their habit or at least make them think about it a little more.
I thanked Drew for making my prank a Public Service Announcement.
Merry Christmas.
Only in my world.
At camp we have a tradition. Christmas in July. I prefer it to regular Christmas, frankly. I mean I love what real Christmas is for and what it stands for and all that and I love the season, but with my family politics and issues and Jerry Springer stupidity, I really don't care much for the holiday. Christmas at camp is totally wonderful though. Granted it has none of the really cool reasons, Savior's birth, Good will toward man, and all that, but in terms of true completely altruistic generosity it can't be beat. It is also a great time for pranks, jokes and the teasing that is love and support between staffers at camp. In the past we even had a big roast beef dinner and such, but that has gotten to be too much of a hassle. So now we do it on the second to last Wednesday of camp, have cookies and Nogless Eggnog and do a white elephant gift exchange. In addition lots of staffers exchange little gifts. The rule is cheap or home-made. I get a lot of gifts for people. They are a good method of encouragement to the people who sometimes don't feel encouraged. In addition for the past couple years all senior staff that have to stand duty (stay up at admin overnight to answer phones and back me up) receive, from me, a towel with their name embroidered on it.
The tradition started back four summers ago when I was the office manager. That summer I lived up in admin with the medic and he and I shared our bathroom with four guys who lived in the Ballard Cabin. The Ballard Cabin is a historical landmark. It is a one room cabin and while it has electricity has no pluming. It is too far away from the staff area for the boys that live there (usually older boys... Over 21... Who are kayaking instructors) to use the facilities so the medic shares the facilities up in admin with them. (And in admin, everyone has their own room, I have never had a room-mate at camp... just to be clear) That first year I was terribly smitten (kind of like how Rosie was smitten with Tom Cruise, except I'm not gay and he's normal...) with one of the instructors. He was adorable and sweet and very smart. He was working on his PhD in psychology. He was also about 5'6. But still adorable. Anyway, one day I ended up on the phone with his mom. We chatted a bit and then she explained who she was. And I said, "Oh, I know your son. We share a shower!" Yep, that's exactly what I said. Thankfully she had a sense of humor. The incident got around and so they started to call the medic, myself and the Ballard Boys, "The shower buddies." So that year for X-mas, myself, I embroidered all of our names on towels. I gave each one of the boys their towels with a card that said "Now you will think of me when you are naked." It was a big hit.
The next year when I was the medic several younger boys (17) remembered the incident and gave me towels for X-mas. Not embroidered by them, but pretty orange ones with big turquoise flowers. They also got the matching hand towel and wash cloth. Nana is terribly fond of them. So when several of the boys came over to do yard work for me that fall after that summer and Nana kept calling them the towel boys I explained to them that the only person thinking of them when they were naked was Nana. Anyway.
My second year as the medic we started the Director on Duty system and I wanted to find a way to thank these young men for helping me out and the towel idea just seemed to fit. This time I had them professionally done. Luckily one of our staffers mother's is the one who does the embroidering for our staff shirts and so she did the towels for me, essentially at cost. I gave the towels out a X-mas. I did it again this year as well as they were so well liked and appreciated last year.
I receive gifts too, but more often cards. Homemade X-mas cards that are very sweet though often misspelled and sloppily written. It's the thought that counts after all...
It is also a tradition for me to give the director of the dining hall, a man old enough to be my father (Mark, see previous posts) that I flirt outrageously with as inappropriate a gift as possible. Last year I gave him a lacy red bra and panty set. While I had never actually worn it, it was in my size. All in good fun. This year, during staff week, the kitchen staff ran that same gift up the flag poles during morning formation. Seeing as it was just staff present, I thought it was pretty funny. This year I promised Mark I would be more demure in my gift, so I gave him a white eyelit lace set. Very innocent looking. However I also gave him pictures of me wearing them (over my dark green scrubs) in a Christmas card with a picture of the Virgin Mary on the cover. It was a great catch twenty two. If he didn't look at them he would think I had taken racy photos. If he did I could call him a pervert for looking. The senior (read over 18 and out of high school) staff was in hysterics over it all day. There was one problem however.
I had sent Drew (24 year old shotgun istructor nicknamed, and I am not making this up, Tinkerbell) to pick the pictures up at Walmart. There were only two, developed as 5X7 glossys. Drew said the clerk gave him the dirtiest look when he picked them up (I don't see why I was completely dressed!) and he didn't know why until he got to the car and peeked. What he didn't tell me was that he decided to use this opportunity to help some of the high school boys in cabin 2 kick their porn habit (These boys are mostly 16 and seventeen, starting senior year in high school). He photocopied the pictures onto one sheet of paper and slipped the papers into all the boys' magazines he could find (I'm hoping that was only a couple...). So X-mas was on Wednesday. On Friday one of the boys, one of "my boys" actually, rather sheepishly handed me a folded up piece of paper and said, "Um, I think this is yours." Obviously I was slightly confused. Like I said, I was dressed and so there was nothing to be embarrassed about I just wanted to know how the boys got it, it hadn't really beed intended for the younger boys to see. Eventually I caught up to Drew. He confessed immediately, explaining that he figured that if the boys were surprised by a picture of someone they considered a big sister while they were "using" the magazines maybe it would curb their habit or at least make them think about it a little more.
I thanked Drew for making my prank a Public Service Announcement.
Merry Christmas.
Only in my world.
36 hours... The scariest
Fourth of July week was with out a doubt the most difficult and exciting to be the medic at camp. It was a real heart pounder.
First of all Mom was supposed to visit, but she didn't and she waited until the last minute to tell me, so I ended up on the hook for the hotel. Thankfully they were really nice about the whole thing and I got to go use the night I had to pay for on Saturday. They had a big whirlpool bath in the room. Very nice... For all that I had a perfectly good bed not ten miles away. Anyway.
Nana got to come and visit for the fourth. She had a terrific time. Very nice and lots of fun for everyone. One Wednesday we did a special ceremony for MIA/POW and as last year I headed that up. It is a tradition I have seen since I was a child and it meant a lot for me to be able to share it with these boys. Many of the adult leaders thanked me throughout the rest of the week for the gesture.
Then came Thursday morning. It started for me at 2:30 AM.
At camp as one of few females I have to be very conscious of what I wear to bed at night. I keep a robe handy. However, sometimes if I have to "go" in the middle of the night, I'll just creep to the bathroom in my camisol and skivvies if the interior door to my building is shut and there is no one around. Like at 2 in the morning. So I popped my head out the door, saw the door was closed and began my creep. That's when I realized two scoutmasters were sitting in the middle of my med lodge. Oops. So after scooting back to my room like a bat out of hell and changing into complete scrubs I had a thirty minute chat with them and the boy they had brought with them. He was essentially home sick, but insisted he had the flu. So we gave him some Sudafed and sent him to bed. No harm no foul except for my wounded pride.
Then at 9 AM I got the emergency call. Someone had been walking across a mock up of a rope bridge or Monkey Bridge as they call it and had fallen. When I got there I found my program director (one of the highest ups at camp) was the one injured. When attempting to walk the bridge he had been spun upside down, piled into the ground and then three 100lb a piece logs had fallen on him. He regained consciousness, but could not remember what happened and could not retain any information we gave him at that point. He repeatedly asked me what happened even though I kept telling him. We had to "package" him in case of spinal injury and called 911. Then Click and I went with them to an emergency room to hear how he was and to wait for his mother. As it turned out it was only (ONLY!!!!) a moderate concussion and essentially mild sprains in his knee and elbow. The staff did an amazing job of handling the emergency and the camp for the most part was unaware of most of what had happened. I've packaged people before, seen worse injuries, but it was strange that this was someone I knew and I was very scared at the time. That is where training is such a good thing, because you are on auto pilot in terms of getting everything done.
When I got back there was a boy waiting for me. His scout master kind of shoved the kid at me and ran. Poor boy had a tick in a very uncomfortable place. When I attempted to remove it, I lost the head and had to go digging for it. Lord have Mercy! So here I am kneeling on the floor, by the gurney with a boy desperately trying to hold his suit low enough for me to get what I need to get to, but high enough to protect some modesty and I had another staff member holding a flashlight over me so I could see to digs the needle and tweezers into this whole mess. I went to bed beyond exhausted that night.
Then next morning after breakfast a scout master came running into medlodge with the two words to stop any medic's heart. Chain Saw! Some poor scout master bumped one into his upper thigh. As it was he was lucky. It was actually mostly superficial. Only (ONLY!!!) 40 stitches and no muscle damage. But for all that at least for a few minutes my heart stopped again.
Come Saturday night that bubble bath felt really good.
First of all Mom was supposed to visit, but she didn't and she waited until the last minute to tell me, so I ended up on the hook for the hotel. Thankfully they were really nice about the whole thing and I got to go use the night I had to pay for on Saturday. They had a big whirlpool bath in the room. Very nice... For all that I had a perfectly good bed not ten miles away. Anyway.
Nana got to come and visit for the fourth. She had a terrific time. Very nice and lots of fun for everyone. One Wednesday we did a special ceremony for MIA/POW and as last year I headed that up. It is a tradition I have seen since I was a child and it meant a lot for me to be able to share it with these boys. Many of the adult leaders thanked me throughout the rest of the week for the gesture.
Then came Thursday morning. It started for me at 2:30 AM.
At camp as one of few females I have to be very conscious of what I wear to bed at night. I keep a robe handy. However, sometimes if I have to "go" in the middle of the night, I'll just creep to the bathroom in my camisol and skivvies if the interior door to my building is shut and there is no one around. Like at 2 in the morning. So I popped my head out the door, saw the door was closed and began my creep. That's when I realized two scoutmasters were sitting in the middle of my med lodge. Oops. So after scooting back to my room like a bat out of hell and changing into complete scrubs I had a thirty minute chat with them and the boy they had brought with them. He was essentially home sick, but insisted he had the flu. So we gave him some Sudafed and sent him to bed. No harm no foul except for my wounded pride.
Then at 9 AM I got the emergency call. Someone had been walking across a mock up of a rope bridge or Monkey Bridge as they call it and had fallen. When I got there I found my program director (one of the highest ups at camp) was the one injured. When attempting to walk the bridge he had been spun upside down, piled into the ground and then three 100lb a piece logs had fallen on him. He regained consciousness, but could not remember what happened and could not retain any information we gave him at that point. He repeatedly asked me what happened even though I kept telling him. We had to "package" him in case of spinal injury and called 911. Then Click and I went with them to an emergency room to hear how he was and to wait for his mother. As it turned out it was only (ONLY!!!!) a moderate concussion and essentially mild sprains in his knee and elbow. The staff did an amazing job of handling the emergency and the camp for the most part was unaware of most of what had happened. I've packaged people before, seen worse injuries, but it was strange that this was someone I knew and I was very scared at the time. That is where training is such a good thing, because you are on auto pilot in terms of getting everything done.
When I got back there was a boy waiting for me. His scout master kind of shoved the kid at me and ran. Poor boy had a tick in a very uncomfortable place. When I attempted to remove it, I lost the head and had to go digging for it. Lord have Mercy! So here I am kneeling on the floor, by the gurney with a boy desperately trying to hold his suit low enough for me to get what I need to get to, but high enough to protect some modesty and I had another staff member holding a flashlight over me so I could see to digs the needle and tweezers into this whole mess. I went to bed beyond exhausted that night.
Then next morning after breakfast a scout master came running into medlodge with the two words to stop any medic's heart. Chain Saw! Some poor scout master bumped one into his upper thigh. As it was he was lucky. It was actually mostly superficial. Only (ONLY!!!) 40 stitches and no muscle damage. But for all that at least for a few minutes my heart stopped again.
Come Saturday night that bubble bath felt really good.
Saturday, July 29, 2006
Sappy Ramblings from people who should be in bed
The thing that is the most important to me at camp is relationships. Several years ago I told a friend of mine that in some ways camp is the purest form of teaching. It is about the connecting to the boys on a level that doesn't seem to happen anywhere else. I imagine some people might find that odd, creepy or misunderstand my meaning. They live narrow lives.
These boys share so much with me. Often they come up to my Medlodge, in the evening when it's quiet or during a free minute between merit badge classes or on Thursday nights off or even Saturday evenings. They come to hang out, get food (I often have home-cooking in the fridge, chili, chicken and dumplings, soup, etc) and often to talk. The conversations start out small and sometimes odd. Sometimes they meander and go nowhere and sometimes great truths and secrets are shared. I've been told things that were never said out loud before, and may never be again. Things parents, teachers, best friends and doctors may not ever hear. Sometimes I just hear it first, as a safe sounding board. In the past four years I've had people discuss past abuse, suicide, sex, true (possibly unrequited) love, sexual orientation, faith in God, hopes and dreams for the future, and often just the confusion that comes in growing up. They tell me about the girlfriends they want, the ones they have and the ones they lost, not to mention the ones they wish they never had. They tell me about smoking and drinking and porn and the things they are angry about, ashamed of and secretly proud of. They tell me about the mistakes that they pray no one ever finds out about. They tell me the things that make their hearts break and their souls sing.
Oddly enough, for as talkative and up front a person as I am, I don't always talk all that much, mostly listen and I keep a lot of secrets. Which is funny because sometimes I never see or hear from some of them again. They only do one summer at camp and they don't write or call or whatever. If I bump into them somewhere it's good to see them, but awkward and strange as well.
Coming back from camp I find that this summer in particular a lot of what I heard weighs heavy on my soul because it seems so many today are bleeding internally. These are the good boys, the role models, the future leaders and they are so confused and so lost. Yet even with ten to fifteen years on them I'm not real sure I know the answers anymore than they do.
This week I went back to being Miss X at my school. Talking mostly to real adults of course, but Miss X. Here I do have the answers and I am "The Teacher" and my job is so much more finite and bounded and in that way I feel more powerful and in control. Yet, I don't feel as connected either. I am also a lot less confused.
It's Saturday night and I'm getting ready for bed, but I miss keeping an ear out for that shuffle of feet outside my medlodge door or the softly whispered "Hey Sandy." Nana goes to bed early and so it's just me and the dog now. There are no burdens for me to share, no stories to hear and no secrets to keep. I miss them.
I miss my boys.
(So to add to the insult of not posting for nearly a month I now am creating injury by being sappy and philosophical and rambling and probably a bit odd, just ignore me. Students return on Tuesday and I imagine I'll be quirky and cynical again. Also I still need to recount the great Monkey Bridge incident, tick digging, Christmas in July, the chain-saw incident... Just for Beata... And the most important lesson I learned all summer.)
These boys share so much with me. Often they come up to my Medlodge, in the evening when it's quiet or during a free minute between merit badge classes or on Thursday nights off or even Saturday evenings. They come to hang out, get food (I often have home-cooking in the fridge, chili, chicken and dumplings, soup, etc) and often to talk. The conversations start out small and sometimes odd. Sometimes they meander and go nowhere and sometimes great truths and secrets are shared. I've been told things that were never said out loud before, and may never be again. Things parents, teachers, best friends and doctors may not ever hear. Sometimes I just hear it first, as a safe sounding board. In the past four years I've had people discuss past abuse, suicide, sex, true (possibly unrequited) love, sexual orientation, faith in God, hopes and dreams for the future, and often just the confusion that comes in growing up. They tell me about the girlfriends they want, the ones they have and the ones they lost, not to mention the ones they wish they never had. They tell me about smoking and drinking and porn and the things they are angry about, ashamed of and secretly proud of. They tell me about the mistakes that they pray no one ever finds out about. They tell me the things that make their hearts break and their souls sing.
Oddly enough, for as talkative and up front a person as I am, I don't always talk all that much, mostly listen and I keep a lot of secrets. Which is funny because sometimes I never see or hear from some of them again. They only do one summer at camp and they don't write or call or whatever. If I bump into them somewhere it's good to see them, but awkward and strange as well.
Coming back from camp I find that this summer in particular a lot of what I heard weighs heavy on my soul because it seems so many today are bleeding internally. These are the good boys, the role models, the future leaders and they are so confused and so lost. Yet even with ten to fifteen years on them I'm not real sure I know the answers anymore than they do.
This week I went back to being Miss X at my school. Talking mostly to real adults of course, but Miss X. Here I do have the answers and I am "The Teacher" and my job is so much more finite and bounded and in that way I feel more powerful and in control. Yet, I don't feel as connected either. I am also a lot less confused.
It's Saturday night and I'm getting ready for bed, but I miss keeping an ear out for that shuffle of feet outside my medlodge door or the softly whispered "Hey Sandy." Nana goes to bed early and so it's just me and the dog now. There are no burdens for me to share, no stories to hear and no secrets to keep. I miss them.
I miss my boys.
(So to add to the insult of not posting for nearly a month I now am creating injury by being sappy and philosophical and rambling and probably a bit odd, just ignore me. Students return on Tuesday and I imagine I'll be quirky and cynical again. Also I still need to recount the great Monkey Bridge incident, tick digging, Christmas in July, the chain-saw incident... Just for Beata... And the most important lesson I learned all summer.)
Communication
There were lots of things I learned this summer. Lots of things I knew, but saw in practice and a couple things I learned about myself. One of the biggest things I learned/saw was how important communication is and how differently men handle issues of leadership and communication in comparison to women.
While at camp there was a lot of communicating going on, just never between the people who really needed to talk. It amazes me how much things can get out of whack because we won't say the things that should be said.
This summer at camp was most likely the smoothest summer ever in terms of camper/scout master satisfaction, professional accomplishment and the like. There were very few traumatic (read interesting) injuries and few genuine crisis at camp. Yet, for all that ease, smoothness, pretty picture, this summer was most likely my least favorite of the four. People didn't talk to each other, they talked about each other and people were not honest with each other when the time came. This is a very foreign concept to me. Granted sometimes I don't say anything, but for the most part it is very hard for me to keep my thoughts to myself on issues I consider important and if someone asks me what I think I tell them. Further I would never say something behind someone's back that I wouldn't be willing to say to their face. Seriously.
This summer, however, I said nothing, just like everyone else. In my case I didn't say anything because I was the medic not the administrator and I really felt it wasn't my place. This created a lot of internal stress for me, though. I think I slept for nearly 18 hours straight when I got home and then another 10 hour shot afterward. Now I am back at work at school with educational professionals and the difference is amazing. We are dealing with a lot more problems, bigger volume and more stressful issues and yet I feel so much more relaxed because here we talk about them, we discuss it and we fix it or at least find a workable solution. What a difference!
Not to sound sexist, though I do think there are definite issues of gender, but I wonder if that is because the teaching field is predominantly female where as the boy scouts are predominantly male (hence the name). This is also funny to me because in the past I have always said I prefer working with males as they tend to be much more straight forward and simple in their relationships. Which is true. In this case that simplicity twisted back on itself and created the most unpleasant work attitudes I've seen in some time.
Sorry to be so critical-analytical. There were some pretty cool stories and I will share them shortly, about chain-saws, ticks, hijinks and such, but before I could even get to those I needed to get this part off my chest.
While at camp there was a lot of communicating going on, just never between the people who really needed to talk. It amazes me how much things can get out of whack because we won't say the things that should be said.
This summer at camp was most likely the smoothest summer ever in terms of camper/scout master satisfaction, professional accomplishment and the like. There were very few traumatic (read interesting) injuries and few genuine crisis at camp. Yet, for all that ease, smoothness, pretty picture, this summer was most likely my least favorite of the four. People didn't talk to each other, they talked about each other and people were not honest with each other when the time came. This is a very foreign concept to me. Granted sometimes I don't say anything, but for the most part it is very hard for me to keep my thoughts to myself on issues I consider important and if someone asks me what I think I tell them. Further I would never say something behind someone's back that I wouldn't be willing to say to their face. Seriously.
This summer, however, I said nothing, just like everyone else. In my case I didn't say anything because I was the medic not the administrator and I really felt it wasn't my place. This created a lot of internal stress for me, though. I think I slept for nearly 18 hours straight when I got home and then another 10 hour shot afterward. Now I am back at work at school with educational professionals and the difference is amazing. We are dealing with a lot more problems, bigger volume and more stressful issues and yet I feel so much more relaxed because here we talk about them, we discuss it and we fix it or at least find a workable solution. What a difference!
Not to sound sexist, though I do think there are definite issues of gender, but I wonder if that is because the teaching field is predominantly female where as the boy scouts are predominantly male (hence the name). This is also funny to me because in the past I have always said I prefer working with males as they tend to be much more straight forward and simple in their relationships. Which is true. In this case that simplicity twisted back on itself and created the most unpleasant work attitudes I've seen in some time.
Sorry to be so critical-analytical. There were some pretty cool stories and I will share them shortly, about chain-saws, ticks, hijinks and such, but before I could even get to those I needed to get this part off my chest.
Friday, July 28, 2006
Recharge
Hey! No I didn't die. Sorry about that. I figured I'd have so much to say while at camp and I did, unfortunately there was nothing left over energy wise to say it with. Also now I can no longer access my blog while at school, so...
But, there are lots of things I am still processing from camp and I totally will share,
so stay tuned...
But, there are lots of things I am still processing from camp and I totally will share,
so stay tuned...
Saturday, July 01, 2006
What is an Emergency?
At camp, the word Emergency is dangerous on the radio, so we don't use it. If it is a medical emergency you are to simply ask for, "The Medic" and all I will ask is where you are. The part the becomes amusing is what people constitute as an emergency. I've been called as "The Medic" for splinters, headaches, and a "boo-boo."
This Thursday, staff night off, I got called as "The Medic" to the waterfall. Children met me as I ran up the hill, "there's blood everywhere! It's broken! You can see bone!" People were screaming and running and waving hands. When I got there another staff member had already gotten there first. He was gloved, holding pressure on gauze on a leg of a child being held by three scout masters and this child was screaming. The staff member moved his hand and I saw a small square of gauze below the one he was using and it had a 1 inch circle of blood on it. I had to count to 10 before I look under it to see the small skinned section. I guessed maybe 5 stitches, (the kid actually got 8). I smiled at the kid and said, "No worries, quick trip to the ER and you'll be home in two hours."
Then the screaming really started.
At least the scout leaders told me later they were sorry such a fuss was made over something relatively minor and they hoped they hadn't ruined too much of my evening.
Another child came into my office screaming in pain on Monday. He wanted to go home. He was in the worst pain of his life and wanted me to send him home. He had had surgery two months earlier and I needed to get his mother on the phone right now, it was an emergency. His mother was 10 hours away in Florida. But she needed to come get him right now. No, he had no pain prescription, he didn't want any pills. He wanted his mother. We called mom. She said she would come. But then the next morning he was fine. However as a precaution we wanted him to go back to using his crutches and stop doing swimming. Child didn't like this. So...
His mom called me at 4:30 AM on Thursday morning to tell me that her child could walk without crutches and do any activities he wanted to. She called this early she said because it was an emergency.
OK.
So, I find myself wondering, how do we determine emergencies?
This Thursday, staff night off, I got called as "The Medic" to the waterfall. Children met me as I ran up the hill, "there's blood everywhere! It's broken! You can see bone!" People were screaming and running and waving hands. When I got there another staff member had already gotten there first. He was gloved, holding pressure on gauze on a leg of a child being held by three scout masters and this child was screaming. The staff member moved his hand and I saw a small square of gauze below the one he was using and it had a 1 inch circle of blood on it. I had to count to 10 before I look under it to see the small skinned section. I guessed maybe 5 stitches, (the kid actually got 8). I smiled at the kid and said, "No worries, quick trip to the ER and you'll be home in two hours."
Then the screaming really started.
At least the scout leaders told me later they were sorry such a fuss was made over something relatively minor and they hoped they hadn't ruined too much of my evening.
Another child came into my office screaming in pain on Monday. He wanted to go home. He was in the worst pain of his life and wanted me to send him home. He had had surgery two months earlier and I needed to get his mother on the phone right now, it was an emergency. His mother was 10 hours away in Florida. But she needed to come get him right now. No, he had no pain prescription, he didn't want any pills. He wanted his mother. We called mom. She said she would come. But then the next morning he was fine. However as a precaution we wanted him to go back to using his crutches and stop doing swimming. Child didn't like this. So...
His mom called me at 4:30 AM on Thursday morning to tell me that her child could walk without crutches and do any activities he wanted to. She called this early she said because it was an emergency.
OK.
So, I find myself wondering, how do we determine emergencies?
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