I was just checking out the gym schedule. I have today off and I have to get to the gym. I went to a really early spinning class yesterday and the proceeded to sit around on my sofa the entire day. (That's not entirely true. For a couple of hours I was lying on my sofa, not sitting.)

As a result of this inactivity, my back is killing me. Maybe it sounds strange, but my back hurts more when I am totally sedentary than it does when I'm up and moving around.

So, normally I go to the gym at 5:30 on Monday nights, but if I have the day off (as is the case today) I try to get my workout in earlier. I checked the schedule at all three gyms, and the one that looks most promising is the "Forza" class in Back Bay. Forza is apparently some kind of Japanese samaurai (spelling?) sword workout. I have seen the baskets of wooden sword thingees sitting there a million times and never quite knew what they were for. Well..I guess I'm about to find out.

If I can still move after the class (because I think it might be pretty freakin' hard), I'll let you know how things worked out.

In other news, I am SICK AS HELL OF SNOW. It has been falling non stop in Boston for the entire month of January. Actually, it started back in September. There have been a couple of mild days where the snow on the ground would finally melt away. This would occur, of course, just in time for the next deep freeze and snow storm to move in and take up long term residence. There is snow on the ground that I'm convinced is going to stay there until April. Actually, since April has turned to full-on winter here in New England, it might just sit there until May.

What the hell?

It is really hard to sit here in this arctic freeze and contemplate the concept of global warming. I'm not a denier at all. I'm just saying that it's hard to sit here watching Noah Wylie cry about the polar bears losing their natural habitat in the north pole. Hell....just send 'em down to Boston. They'll be fine.

Guilty as Charged

I got a jury duty summons yesterday. My service date is April 2nd. The last time I was called to serve on a Jury was a few years ago. My service date was set for August. I requested a postponement because I figured it would be better to take the day off of school rather than serve on my own time in the summer. LOL. The funny thing was that instead of getting a new date, I got a letter basically telling me that they would not need me after all.

The last time I went to jury duty, I sat on a trial for almost two weeks. My courtroom was directly one floor above the Louise Woodward trial. The media frenzy was fun and kind of exciting. (Remember Louise...the British Nanny who killed the baby in her care?)

This time I'll be serving in Boston. Last time I was in Cambridge. Hopefully I won't get seated and I'll be dismissed early enough to enjoy a lovely day of shopping at nearby Faneuil Hall.

Can you believe that I was able to confirm my juror service online? Man...what can't we do online these days?

In other news, I went to my thyroid doctor today. He said I look much better than the last time I saw him, when, to use his own words, I was "an absolute mess." He asked if people have told me I look better. Ah...not so much.

It turns out I might actually now be hypothyroid (the original problem was hyperthyroidism). Sometimes the medication can overtreat the hyperthyroidism. The doctor explained that the thyroid is a pretty temperamental gland that is difficult to property regulate. The dosage of medication has to be tweaked a bunch before things calm down. The telltale signs of the hyperthyroidism were apparently my warm hands, bulging eyes, shaky hands, and edginess. This time the doctor remarked that my extremities seem colder, that the shakes are gone, and that my heart rate was really slow. This, he asserts, could be the result of my regular exercise, so he's not sure. But I'm kinda hoping it is hypo because I have packed on a little bit of weight on this stupid medication. Oh well..it is what it is. I'll find out Monday.

Hmm..what else. Nothing I guess.

Stephen is playing some inane war video game on his new laptop. All these guns are firing and people are calling out in shock and pain. Yeah, he's 41.

Latest Musings

I don't blog enough, that's for sure. When I think about blogging, I get all overwhelmed because I always let so much time elapse between posts. Then I wonder if I have to go back and update all of you on everything that's transpired in my life. Because that's such a daunting thought, I opt out of blogging.

But just today a couple of thoughts have occurred to me.

1. Not that much actually happens in my life, so I'm hardly buried under interesting stories that must be conveyed in painstaking detail.

2. Even if I were drowning in wondrous stories of misadventure and mayhem, it would be awfully presumptuous of me to feel as if you were all out there awaiting my detailed retelling of every last detail. To believe that would be to labor (falsely, of course) under the delusion that all of you are in such dire need of a life as to necessitate your holding your collective breath waiting for my next missive. How arrogant of me.

3. It is completely OK for me to check in periodically and just rant on about whatever happens to be on my mind at any particular time. So what if I don't talk about everything that's transpired in my life since my last entry. Because...after all, as I've concluded in thought number 2, you guys probably don't give a crap anyway!

How liberating. So, I'll blog when I can. No more guilt about letting too much time elapse. No more cowering under the girth of all that has been left unreported on or unsaid. Just pure, unadulterated joy of self-expression when the mood hits.

Ahhh.....

(That was a sigh of relief.)

Anyway, I got myself a new phone. Very cute. It is the LG En V. I was thinking about going on the iPhone, but I decided to stick with Verizon Wireless. I know a lot of people have reported having horrendous service, but I have always had stellar, exemplary service from Verizon, so I'm going to stick there. Also, the phone was cheaper than the iPhone, which made me happy.



This thing is cute, cute, cute. It is blood red, which makes me feel fun, yet more grown up than my pink Motorolla RazR. (I grew pretty tired of that thing). The thing I like best about my phone is that it goes online! Yippie. I can bypass the firewalls at school and play around on Facebook on my prep periods! LOL. Now I can keep up to speed with all the silly online antics of my friends and family members throughout the day. No need to wait until I go home. I can engage in that silly, intellectually empty activity on the clock. I LOVE it! I also like that the plan I'm on is relatively reasonably priced (around 65 dollars a month, I think) for unlimited texting to any network, unlimited data usage, and all kinds of other little bells and whistles! I'm very happy with my new little gadget. I'm not much of a gadget freak, and this phone is hardly cutting edge to any hardcore electronic freak, but it does the trick for me. Case in point, during our mindless, pointless, boring, and idiotic staff meeting today at work, I was all over the web. It was great. Money well spent!

Switching topics...

In my ongoing addiction to TV shows I had never seen before getting our cable package expanded beyond our previous ghetto package, I've started watching House.



It's an interesting show. I love House's acerbic wit. He's great. Cheeky, obnoxious, self-centered, dark, and brooding. He's my type of guy. And he's just a little bit gorgeous, isn't he? Must be the blue eyes. OK...enough about that. The show has other merits. I encourage you to watch it to discover them on your own.

I've also become quite the addict of "No Reservations with Anthony Bourdain."



Maybe I have a thing for snarky older guys. Or maybe it's just that I like entertaining TV shows. Who can say for sure?

OK...I think I'm done. I'm hungry and I'm off to make some dinner.

I have tomorrow off. I called in sick so that I can go see my thyroid doctor. I think I need a medication dosage adjustment. Christ...what an annoyance.

Oh..and one last thing. Today the city for which I work had an "Employee Perks Fair" at city hall. The problem is the we teachers are required to stay in school until 2:45. Today we had meetings at other schools at 2:45 until 4:14. The employee perk fair went from 11-4. So, when were we supposed to get there?

You tell me.

Stupid.

It takes a village...

I have a few things to talk about this evening. And yeah, it's Saturday night at 7:44 and I'm sitting in my living room watching bad TV (Stylista on VH1) with no intention of going out. What of it? We can't all be my hip, fashionable, cool, socially sought-after, young-sprite-of-a-thing, painfully cool cousin Bobby, who has been to some happening Christmas party every night since the beginning of December. Some of us are elderly losers who look forward to solitary Saturday nights at home in front of bad shows.

LOL.

Anyway, Lauren, my mother, and I went to Foxwoods casino this weekend. I'm a VERY unseasoned gambler. This was only my second time in a casino.

I got down to Foxwoods and quite honestly didn't know what to do when I got to the casino. Actually, I hit the hotel gym when we first arrived, and Lauren and my mother went down to the Casino. I had to have my mother meet me at the entrance to the casino and walk me through all the money exchanging processes and give me a brief (OK...extensive) tutorial as to how to play the machines. I was totally clueless.

My first series of games resulted in my losing twenty dollars in as many seconds. Honestly. I found out that I had been playing "dollar slots." Every game cost me a dollar. I guess I should have just stripped out of my shirt and handed it to the door attendant at the casino. It would have been easier. Then again, NOBODY needs to see that shit, so forget it. I'll keep it all buttoned up.

Not long after entering into the casino, I found a "Village People" slot machine! Nice.

I won some cash on the thing. It was red hot for a while. Nobody could touch me. I was getting ready to singlehandedly take down the entire casino. I was winning around 200 dollars. I don't think Foxwoods has ever seen anybody on a red hot roll like that. They'll be talking about it for years. And I'm sure they were sweating the loss.

I cashed out and took my winnings to the Hard Rock cafe, where we proceeded to call Reesie. Sorry, Reese...we were about fifteen cheap ass free drinks into the evening by the time we got you on the blower.

Anyway, I found an Irish themed machine and played that with some success for a while. Mind you, when you're playing nickel slot machines, "some success" means that I was winning .25 a game.

I found some machine called "Stinking Rich" with skunks and shit all over it. I played three or four games with a ten dollar voucher. The worst thing is that I keep pressing the button without any idea what's really going on. I just have absolutely no idea what the rules, objectives, or winning criteria are. I just push the button and sit there and gape stupidly while the screen moves to the sounds of inane casino music. Within a few minutes, I was up to around 80 dollars on that machine. Then, just as quickly, they were telling me I no longer had any money to play it.

Huh?

That was the end of my gambling for the evening.

I retired to this bar area. I figured I would have a decent glass of wine, even if I had to pay for it, and then retire to the room.

I was shocked to find that the wine would either cost me 9 dollars if I chose not to play the casino machine located right on the surface of the bar in front of me, of be complimentary if I chose to place the minimum bet (5 dollars) in the machine. I asked to make sure I was understanding correctly. I could pay 9 dollars with no possibility of winning anything, or 5 dollars with the possibility of winning millions.

Yep. That was the case. I chose to play, of course. Naturally I won nothing. But still...I figured I was ahead of the game on the wine at least. I was clearly no longer playing when the guy came and offered me another glass of wine. I reminded him that I was no longer playing, and had in fact only bet five bucks. He didn't think this was a problem, and was prepared to keep pouring just on the basis of my having placed a five dollar bet a half hour earlier. I turned down the wine and retired to the room.

This morning, the three of us had a disappointing breakfast at Panera (Lauren was surprised that I had stated my dislike of Panera, but I have yet to have a really pleasant meal there), and then retired to the casinos for a little more play. We are all painfully early risers in the morning, even on days off. The three of us had showered, packed our bags, and eaten breakfast by 7:00 AM. I decided to try to go back and earn my millions on my previously red hot Village People machine. It was stone cold. I wasted perhaps another twenty dollars on the thing before throwing in the towel.

I returned to the room at 8:00 or so. We had given each other a 10:30 meeting time, so I was able to get in some quality reading, and watched a really horrifyingly bad, but somewhat funny nonetheless movie starring Bernie Mac. That bastard was funny, god rest his acerbic soul.

In the end, I returned to Boston with the exact same sum of cash in my wallet as when I went down there. I guess the experts call this "breaking even" and they consider it to be a small victory on behalf of the player. So I'm pleased enough about that. But even for me, a self-proclaimed non-gambler, the lure was somewhat strong. I had to will myself away from the Village People machine. It was crappy this morning, and I knew it. But I kept telling myself that if I stuck another twenty into it, it might heat up again. Luckily I didn't yield to the temptation, but it was a challenge for me to walk away.

Maybe I need professional help.



Onto this next topic. You should all read this great book! Freakin' hilarious. My favorite part of the whole book is when the author tells of her friend, a middle school teacher for behaviorally disturbed boys, who gets her class in control by threatening to show her wedding video. She did it once before, much to the horror and chagrin of her boys. They started towing a very straight line in order to avoid this nightmare again. Now, all this woman has to do when her kids are acting like jackasses is gesture toward the drawer containing the video, and they immediately start profusely apologizing for the behavior.

Shit...why didn't we hire a videographer for our wedding? What were we thinking? I know we had said it was too expensive at the time, but when I think of the hours of horror I could have inflicted on poorly behaved middle schoolers, I regret my peny pinching ways.

Oh well, there's always the dreadfully boring three-hour film "The Trial of Standing Bear" that can be pulled out, dusted off, and shown for jackasses to watch if their behavior merits the torture.

I think that might be all I had to say.

Well...I'm sure I had more, but I'm hungry and my dinner is ready.

Just a Couple of My Favorite Dudes

This has been one long ass week. And it ain't over yet. I had class Tuesday night, professional development until 5 on Wednesday, and tonight (Thursday) I was at school for parent conferences until 8:00. Jesus....I still have to get my arse through tomorrow.

Tomorrow I have a meeting with my "Girls' Group." I look forward to this group. The kids are talkative, open, warm, funny, charming, and just plain enjoyable. It is a highlight of my week. I'm glad I do it twice a week. It ensures pleasant starts to at least two mornings a week.

Anyway, today at dismissal, one of the GREAT girls in my homeroom, C, dropped the contents of her folder all over the floor. We were all helping her gather her things. I came across pictures of an adorable young man, and she confirmed that it was her much-talked-about boyfriend.

The girls were talking about bringing pictures of cute boys to school for me to see. I then declared tomorrow's girls' group "Bring A Picture of a Cute Boy to Girls' Group" day. The kids are all excited. They all asked me if I was going to bring a picture of my husband. Ha! I guaranteed them they'll be treated to a picture of my "other husband" Jon Bon Jovi. They squealed with delight, so of course I'll have to bring a picture of JBJ to the group. I will skip the picture of Bill Clinton because although I love the bastard, I don't think he's cute. I just stumbled across this photo while I was looking for the perfect JBJ photo and thought it was kind of fun. So here it is.

I am prepping to see a bunch of photos of rappers and hip hop singers that I've never heard of tomorrow. But it will be fun.

The cutest thing is that tonight, one of my favorite parents, a single dad of an awesome daughter, K, came to see me. He comes to every open house, school event, and PTA. We talked about his delightful, peppy, spunky daughter. He was preparing to leave and then his daughter turned and said, "Oh, Ms. B., C is worried that she can't print a picture for tomorrow. Her printer is broken!" I jokingly told her that C could not come to group. She caught the joke and said she'd text her friend back and tell her it wasn't a problem. Dad, who hadn't said anything about this conversation finally chimed in with, "K, you can just print a picture for her tonight at home. What's the problem?" I laughed and asked Dad, "Do you know what this picture is for? It's not for a school project." He kind of sighed and said, "I know. I know all about it. It's 'bring-a-picture-of-a-cute-boy-to-girls'-group day.'" I told him not to feel compelled to allow his daughter to deplete his precious and expensive computer ink supply for this frivolity. He shrugged his shoulders and said, "I can either know that my daughter is printing pictures of Chris Brown from the centrally located printer in the living room, texting her friends and giggling about the fact that her teacher is letting them bring them to the group, or I could say no and she'd sneak off and do it somewhere else where she could get into god-knows-what trouble. The printer ink is a small price to pay for knowing my daughter is up to silly, goofy, 14 year-old antics right under my nose."

I guess he had a point, but what a cool ass dad.

Full Moon?

I'm not really one to follow the lunar cycle, but maybe I should. I can't even see the moon from where I'm sitting and I don't have the energy to move the three fee that it would require me to see it. All I'm saying is that it must be a full freakin' moon. If it isn't, I'm going to find out when the full moon is going to fall and make sure I take a personal day. I want to be as far away from school as possible on any day that they might be crazier than they were today.

I'm beat. No, I'm not just beat. I'm beat down.

The kids have been ridiculous lately. The behavior today was out of control. It has honestly been astounding. I NEVER send kids to the office for discipline. Well...maybe NEVER is too broad a term. I would say that RARELY is an apt descriptor of how often I send kids to the office for discipline. Between F (whose story I recounted on yesterday's post) and the three that I sent to the office today, I've reached a total of 4 kids to the office in two days.

It's not even worth recounting the things that they did to warrant the trips to the principal. If I started getting into the details here, I'd probably undo the benefits of the hot needle acupuncture I had this afternoon. Suffice it to say that the behavior has been BAD. It's not just silly ass kid stuff either. It's really BAD. I'll leave it at that.

I felt really bad, though, because at the end of the day, two lovely girls, D and K, came by to chat. They proceeded to tell me that they've had enough of being clumped together in groups with kids who purposely do stupid and hurtful things to other people. They're tired of being included in collective punishments. (The VP kept the entire 8th grade on a group detention yesterday after school....I do try to avoid these types of unfair group punishments, but sometimes they are effective. The worst part is that the threat of a group punishment is often lorded over a mass of kids in the hopes that the jerk/s who perpetrated whatever offense might feel guilty about seeing their classmates needlessly and unjustly punished and step forward to claim responsibility for their actions. Usually, though, if the kid was jerky enough to commit the original crime, he has no guilt about watching his classmates sink unfairly. That's the cruel irony of the entire thing). They are tired of having their things stolen and tampered with. They are tired of having spit balls hurled at their lunch trays by jackasses in their 8th grade class. They are upset about the fact that I have to lock the door when the class is out of the room, thus necessitating a situation where the entire group has to go to lockers, even if they don't need to get anything from their lockers. But they are fully understanding of the fact that I've been left with no choice, and they said they would do the same in my shoes. They are tired of losing class time for the overabundance of discipline issues that crop up on a daily basis. They're tired of being bullied and then called snitches if they try to stick up for themselves. They're tired of being walked all over by jerks.

When they were going through this catharsis, I felt really badly for them. It is easy for me to identify how the shit behavior inconveniences me, but I rarely stop to think about how it drives the other kids, the nice kids, crazy, too.

Here were these kids asking if I could implement the "100 points discipline chart" (never mind the details, just know that it is extremely restrictive and punitive) because they think it might shape things up.

When I told the kids that I was surprised, because the behavior has only seemed terrible in the past few days, they could barely contain their ironic laughter. They said that the minute the teachers are out of the picture, the bullies are at it in full force. They further confided that my 8th grade teaching colleague has little control over the kids and that things in his room are grim now and only getting worse. I guess that, as his mentor, I will have to find a way to gingerly address this issue.

And let me just say that when the conversation veered in the direction of kids talking about my colleague, I steered it immediately onto more neutral territory. I think it is totally uncool for one teacher to malign or otherwise talk unflatteringly about a colleague in front of kids. Big no no there.

But man....I am in desperate need of a day off. Something. I haven't felt this harried in teaching for quite some time now. It just seems that every little thing is blowing up and coming to a head at the same time. I'm used to putting out a few little fires and one big fire on a daily basis. That's my job. But there are no little fires here. Everything is volcanic proportion and I'm fighting just to keep up with things. Getting ahead isn't even in the question.

Man......

Calgon take me away.

It Goes Beyond the Pop Tart

It was a tough day at school today. My kids seem to be in a behavioral slump. I can't explain why, but they are.

Today we had "bus safety day." A bus company sent over a representative who was charged with the responsibility of meeting with students of each grade level, having them board the bus, and then discussing the basics of bus safety with them. The man who came to do the presentation loaded my 8th graders onto the bus, and then proceeded to read, in a barely audible voice, with the thickest accent I've ever heard, a series of rules. He had absolutely no voice inflection, and the poor guy butchered every single word he spoke. I was surprised and disappointed that my students, so many of whom have themselves struggled with English, were vicious in their reactions to this man. They laughed snorting, vicious, throaty laughs. It was terrible. The principal was sitting right there throughout the duration of the presentation. One student, F, was particularly obnoxious. The other teachers all have a history of having deep-seated conflict with F. But for some reason, I have been saved from having to deal with this behavior. Why? Because, according to F himself, he likes me. Simple as that. I have never been forced to deal with his infamous bad behavior. We have an understanding. And I like it that way.

The principal witnessed his atrocious behavior and pulled him aside to speak to him immediately following the presentation. She must not have lambasted him too firmly because he was back on our hallway within moments. But he was fuming. When I pulled him aside to calm him (which I usually am very successful at doing), he only grew more agitated. He accused me of having "snitched" on him to the principal. I may like to foster close relationships with the kids, but I have to draw a line when they become a little too familiar. I assured him that the principal needed zero help from me in noticing his outrageous behavior, and that I didn't appreciate the tone he had taken with me. With that, he blurted, "What the fuck do you want, Ms. B?"

The movement in the hallway (it was crazy locker time) froze as every student awaited my response. As cool as a cucumber, I answered, "I want for you to follow me right to the office. I don't need to listen to this, and you have no place in 8th grade today."

I then ushered this kid down to the principal.

Look...I get the whole hormone thing. I get that kids at this age are likely to be volatile, but I don't have to put up with being sworn at and to. The kids are always swearing at each other, or about something in general that has pissed them off. When that happens, I remind them that we're in school and we move on. But this kid swore AT me, which was absolutely not going to go down well.

Later, some kids in my homeroom noticed that there were a few packages of Pop Tarts that had been left over from a girls group that I run in the mornings. They were swarming around them, and I shooed them away. Before leaving for lunch, I noticed three wrapped packages of the things. When we returned from lunch, I was on locker duty for a moment while the kids trickled in and out of the room, back and forth between class and lockers. When I came back to the room, the kids were all acting strange. I immediately went to the freakin' pop tart bowl.

Empty.

I was pissed. I made every kid leave their backpack on the floor in my room, taking only what they needed for science class out of the room with them. It was my full intention to conduct a full backpack search following the upcoming class period, when my homeroom returned.

But fuck it.

When they returned, I mused aloud, "I didn't earn degrees at two of the country's finest and most prestigious educational institutions to have my career culminate in shaking down a bunch of backpacks for a miserably, lowly Pop Tart. If you stole it, you need it more than I do. But keep in mind that I'm not mad about a Pop Tart. I'm mad about being a theft victim. But you go ahead. You take that Pop Tart and eat it. When you're tucking into your sugary frosted sweet later today, just know that you're a lowlife and a thief."

Harsh? Probably? But fuck that. I explained that we were beyond the Pop Tart itself and that we were talking about simple, petty theft.

Damn....Christmas Vacation, are you here yet?

Waxing Nostalgic

So, today is Veterans' Day. I love the fact that we have the day off, but unlike most kind of too-distant-past-to-be-truly meaningful national holidays, this one is actually relevant and poignant in the here and now. It gives me pause when I think of all the people who have served this country, and of course, of those who are currently serving. Man...it must be hard to be over there (wherever "over there" happens to be to any given soldier).

I have a friend who is over in Iraq. She is the friend/neighbor of Jim, the guy who owns "the cabin" in NH. This young woman, Jill, enlisted about a year ago and was deployed to Iraq this summer. We have sent her a few letters and cards just to keep her up-to-date on the silly happenings at home, but more to just let her know that we're thinking of her.

She is only 19. Crazy, huh? I am not a religious person, but I do pray for her safety. She personalizes this war for me. I hope she comes home safe. SOON!

In my own silly little bubble not-directly-affected-by-war world, I had a nice day off. I got up early with Stephen and we went for coffee. (I'm forever doomed to be an early morning person, I'm afraid. The life of a teacher, as it were).

I had already had coffee, taken the bus to the gym, worked out for a couple of hours, and showered by 9:30 AM. I know...nuts.

I then tooled around for a while, stopping to pick up some dinner stuff at Trader Joe's. I love that dump.

I got a great Wax job at a salon in Brookline. It's funny because Brookline is so freakin' posh, but there are all these salons where you can get an awesome eyebrow wax job for like six bucks! So, I took advantage of that and had my brows "shaped." My brows are so freakin' puny to begin with that they are never actually "shaped" but rather just "cleaned up." Whatever...it needed done!

Ok, this is a lame post and I'm just procrastinating. I have lots to correct. But to my credit...I've done a heap of work today. Grades are due soon and they're actually computerized for the first time ever. How sexy!!

Just Stuff

Hi Y'all. I know my blogging has been totally sporadic. I wish I could seriously sit here and promise more frequent (or at least more regular) posts, but I won't commit to that. I'm sure it's a goal I won't be able to live up to.

I guess the best way to see if I'm blogging is to check in from time to time. Not that I am laboring under delusions of anybody sitting by their computers and holding their breath. I'm just saying.

I don't have much to say. Mostly I'm posting because the only other thing I really have pressing upon me at this point is a massive mountain (I was going to say "pile," but that would hardly do justice) of correcting to do. I've solemnly vowed to my students that I would have their work turned back to them by next Wednesday at the latest. If I want to meet that goal, I've got to devote serious time this weekend to getting that done. I was going to make a promise for Tuesday, but then I remembered that we have Veterans' Day, and so I gave myself until Wednesday. Yet another reason to be eternally grateful to our devoted and honorable Veterans.

First topic:

I wonder why I seem to invite negative comments from "Anonymous" from time to time. I could delete the comments, or password protect my blog I guess. I don't know how to do that, though, so I'll rule that option out. As far as the deleting the comments....why bother? I guess you could say that if it strikes me enough to write about it, that I'm somewhat bothered by it and should just delete them. Actually "bothered" would be a strong word. This is a silly blog. A silly PUBLIC blog, at that. Anybody out there can find it and read it, and I have the comment option activated, so I guess I'm leaving myself open to the critique. It just seems strange to me that people actually take the time to be personally insulting on what is clearly a silly, just-for-laughs blog. I could see if I were out there taking a Perez Hilton stance or if I were some official political blogger or something. But come on, people, it's just me. I have a silly arse blog about a hot dog stand and get bitched out. I post a happy, SILLY little post about Obama, and I get insulted. What's up with that?

Well, "Anonymous" I guess you've got me.

But hear me out. I'm not such a bad person. I found it amusing that somebody was selling hot dogs from the depths of a construction pit . I am happy that Obama got elected. I actually like the guy. Do these things add up to make me such a horrific, horrible, human being worthy of being reviled and insulted by you?

Some of these people leave comments that make me think they might actually be taking my pointless musings here seriously.

Actually, instead of being perplexed, maybe I should feel badly for "Anonymous." If he/she is taking my blog seriously, they must be inhabiting a very strange reality. How disconcerting.

Let's see what jerky-ass comment "Anonymous" leaves now, shall we?

Second Topic:

I feel like I have nothing to wear. It is the classic, full-closet-and-bursting-at-the-seams-closet-but-not-a-damned-thing-to-put-on syndrome. I feel like I'm wearing the same things over and over and over and over. You get the picture. My friend, Jenn, and I are going to conduct an Old Navy raid today. She's a big time Old Navy girl. I hardly ever get over there. I do have some jeans from there that I like a lot. And I've purchased a few things there from time to time. But I'm ready to take the plunge and really try to find some good stuff there. That place is pretty affordable, so I'm hoping to find some things I like. One of the problems with Old Navy can sometimes be that things are cut for girls that weigh about 800 pounds less than I do. I have also found them to be quite a strong offender on the bulging-side-pockets pants phenomenon. But I'm going to try to go in there with an open mind and get past my hang-ups. Fingers crossed.

Third Topic:

I tried acupuncture this week. I have a friend at the gym who is an acupuncturist, and she's giving me a good deal on the treatments. I am hoping I find it to be a fruitful pursuit.

Fourth Topic:

I am sick and tired of my freaking class at UMass. It really stinks. I have learned absolutely nothing. Nada. Zip. Zero. Zilch. Do you get the point? The lectures are pointless and directionless. The syllabus keeps changing and the assignment expectations are fuzzy at best. I never quite feel like I know what I'm doing or what I'm supposed to be doing. Quite annoying, really. I get sick of it. The professor also keeps up well beyond the 2.5 hour duration of the course, and she NEVER gives us a break. Jesus...I don't mind staying late if we at least had a break in the middle of the class. I REALLY like it when profs give the breka up to get us out early. But in this class, it is the worst of all worlds. No break AND we stay late!!

Fifth Topic:

Are you all members of Netflix? I would seriously recommend it!

Sixth Topic:

I am trying desperately to put a normal weekly gym schedule back together. Step aerobics classes, the mainstay of my workout regime, are slowly but surely coming off the schedule, only to be replaced with tons of spinning and yoga classes. Let me tell you how much I HATE Yoga. I can't stand that crap. And I'm crap at it. I am about as agile as a cement block. Maybe even less so. Give me a step bench to pound around on and I'm happy. I know the whole point of yoga is to keep practicing and getting better, but I can't be bothered to screw around with that garbage. I can't stand the whole yoga culture.
I hate spinning less passionately than I used to, but make no mistake...I still hate it. I should be more openminded, but honestly, unless I'm sweating my butt off in a step class, or doing some weight lifting work, I don't really have a great time working out. And then there's the treadmill. If I really can't deal with any of the classes on offer on a particular day, I hope on the treadmill for an hour. I try everything to make the time pass...TV, iPod, magazine...whatever. But none of it works. The time just drags by.

Seventh Topic:

Work has been hard.

Eighth Topic:

I'm desperate for a good book to read. I just finished Anthony Bourdain's first book, and I'm plowing quickly through his second opus, but I'm already looking forward to a couple of days from now when I won't have anything at the ready to read. Any good recommendations? I suppose I could read my course stuff for UMass, but why bother? I spent the 130 dollars on the course books and have not cracked them once. Why start now?

Ninth Topic:

Totally random, but I'll throw it out there...(I have 8 topics, so I might as well go for ten, right?)
If you're a salmon lover, try this super simple, but sublime recipe that I pirated from cooking light. It's so easy it's hardly a recipe, but whatever. Semantics.
Zest an orange, squeeze the orange's own juice on the zest, pour some soy sauce into the mixture. Marinate the salmon in that for 30 minutes and then cook at 350 degrees for 30 minutes or to whatever level of doneness you like for your Salmon. Freaking delicious.

Tenth Topic.

This business of it being full on pitch black night at 4:30 in the afternoon is truly depressing.

Peace out...

O Yeah!
O Baby!

Obama!

Rock the Vote, Baby!

Man...at long last. Election day is tomorrow. It seems that campaign "season" has been interminable, but at the same time, it's now hard to believe that tomorrow, we'll know who our next President is going to be.

I'm voting for Obama, but please note that I didn't put some crazy, ugly, unflattering photo of your boy (if he's your boy) McCain. Hey, he might not be my guy, but I respect the fact that he might be your guy.






I wish I could truly believe that every vote counts. But in this electoral collect joke system, that's just not true. We need to overhaul that noise.

In the meantime, I hope everybody gets their arse out to vote. It's important stuff, kids.

Attack of the Adult Tattle Tale

I have some great students. They are really lovely, hardworking, wouldn't-say-boo-to-a-fly types of kids. Today, during our homeroom "silent reading" period (think of "study hall" from your high school years), I had some kids finishing up a group project, while other kids were trying to work on their silent reading response journals. I tried to separate the kids (talkers and readers) by placing them on separate sides of the room. Eventually, however, the volume of conversation swelled to a point that it was difficult for the readers to concentrate.

One of my nicest kids, D, asked me if she could place a chair outside the classroom door to read.

I was, right then and there, struck with a great idea. Our school is brand spanking new and it is beautiful. There are massive, airy areas that are drenched in natural sunlight for most of the day. There are quint little window seats that afford the kids a view of the vast field below, and comfortable but practical benches built into walls across from the library. The real piece de resistance is a huge, high-ceilinged, floor-to-ceiling windowed atrium on the third floor of the building. There are two sofas and a rocking chair stationed in this thing and NOBODY ever uses them. The atrium is located catty-corner (is that right?) to my classroom, so my window looks square into the thing. The couches and rocking chair are placed square in front of the atrium window, which means that, to all intents and purposes, they are basically an extension of my classroom furniture. I can see (and hear if the windows are all open) every single thing that goes on in the atrium.

So...the grand idea was that I would allow these four studious, responsible, hardworking young ladies the opportunity to take advantage of some of this beautiful space in this marvel of architecture we call a school. I assigned D to the little window seat ten feet away from my classroom door, K to the bench opposite the library (in plain view of the librarian's circulation desk), C to the sofa in the atrium, and L to the rocking chair in the atrium. These girls were delighted with the opportunity to spread their little wings a bit and to experience a little bit of independence.

I could see L and C the entire time through my windows, and I knew that D and K wouldn't even think of moving from their spots until I sent somebody to go and get them to return to class.

The kids were so pleased, and I was really happy with how well they did. I checked the amount of work they had done before they'd left the room, and the amount of work they had when they returned to the room. I was more than convinced that they would have done the exact same amount of work had they been sitting right under my nose. Not all kids are like this, but these few are.

I was chatting with the principal later and I even mentioned to her that I was really glad to have given the students a chance to really appreciate the true beauty of the building, and to enjoy the functionality of some of the neater sitting areas. She was really glad to hear the news and (as a former 8th grade teacher herself), commented upon the much-needed independence that many kids this age need to feel. She totally gets it.

Fast Forward to five minutes after dismissal. I'm sitting in my classroom when the phone rings. The caller is identified as "DR" my principal. I thought nothing of it. I picked up ready for a pleasant chat, but was greeted, instead, with tales of an email that she had received from LM (another teacher) complaining about my kids. The principal said LM claimed the kids were (and I quote directly), "rolling around on floors, lying down, disrupting people, purposely trying to trip her as she walked by, and generally causing problems."

My stomach sank. WTF? I had watched L and C through the window, and they were the only two working anywhere near each other. D and K were totally isolated from any other kids. I was gobsmacked, and totally embarrassed. Recall, if you will, the fact that just moments earlier I had been telling my principal how beautifully my little arrangement had worked.

I expressed my discontent with the fact that this woman didn't speak to me directly, but rather involved the principal immediately.

The principal readily agreed and told me that she was relaying the information so that I could speak to my colleague directly and put this issue to rest.

So, that's exactly what I did. I found my colleague and asked her what she had seen. "Well," she said, "There were kids everywhere and I didn't know if they were supposed to be all over the place like that."

I asked her what she meant by "all over the place." Did she mean that they were simply in different locations, or that they were literally rolling and running around.

She said that "all over the place" was her reference to the number of locations in which ALL FOUR of the kids were sitting.

I asked her then to recount for me exactly what she had seen the kids doing.

"Well," she said, "one of them was sitting on the floor and had her legs extended out in front of her. When I walked by I almost tripped over her because I only saw her at the last minute."

Ok, granted, the kid should have been on the bench and not the floor, but still...

So, I asked if she had thrust her legs forward when the teacher had approached. "No." Then I asked if she was otherwise misbehaving or what the rest of her body posture was. "Oh, she was sitting up straight with her back against the wall."

Ok.

Then I asked what else she was doing while she was sitting there.

"She was reading her book and writing in her notebook."

Ok. What about the other kids. What were they doing?

"Well, they were sitting there reading."

Hmmm...now I should ask if they were talking and carrying on.

"No, they were reading."

So, were they running, loafing, lounging, or otherwise doing anything with their bodies other than sitting there?

"No. They were just sitting there."

When she heard herself basically admitting that the kids were doing NOTHING wrong, she back pedaled and said, "Well....I just didn't know if they should be there. I mean, they were in the HALL!!! I didn't know if that was OK."

I then asked her if she asked the students what they were doing.

"No."

I asked her if she knew whose class they were in? Did she know they were my kids?

"Yes."

And yet, I reminded her, she never bothered to come speak to me directly about this. But rather she went directly to the principal.

"Yes. Well I didn't know."

I then reminded her (with a hurt and scorned look) that I thought we were friends and that we had always enjoyed a pleasant, collegial relationship.

"No. Yes. No...we are. We are friends. Yes. We are."

I asked her if I had ever proven to be impenetrable in terms of discussing work-related matters or if I had ever been off-putting about discussing work with her.

"No...of course not!"

Then I asked her why, then, had she gone to the principal over my head rather than come to me in a spirit of collegiality to discuss an issue of concern.

She kind of stammered and did a lot of staring at her feet.

I also reminded her that these young ladies were sitting in highly conspicuous locations around the school with novels, notebooks and pencils, freely writing and flipping through their books. They weren't lurking, hiding, or cowering in dark corners. They were there, out in the open, for all to see. Why the F would anybody think they were there on anything other than a teacher's authority????

Jesus.

I told her, "Look. I get it. I get that in this school we have somehow embraced a culture of tattling to the principal rather than approach our colleagues in a friendly spirit of professional discourse. But I assured her that although I fully get it, I just can't embrace it.

I reminded her that I have to watch her homeroom dismiss themselves every day in a wild frenzy (because she doesn't walk them to the door so by the time they charge past my classroom to the stairs, they are in a fever pitch) and yet I've never opend my mouth to the principal. Why? Because I'm not 3. And I just don't want to have to get my principal involved in stupid crap that she shouldn't have to tend to. Hello...the woman has a school to run.

Whatever.

The woman was all apologies, and I backed off. But still. One more person at work to trust as far as I can fling.

I don't get it. Maybe working around kids keeps the tattle tale alive in all teachers.

Inspired by Julie's Blog Post

I was just cruising through my girls' blogs. It has been a while since I even treated on blog territory. Facebook has torn me away from my blog. As much as I appreciated the seemingly instant gratification of communicating one message to multiple readers at once (as is the case in blogland), nothing can surpass Facebook in terms of ease of instant correspondence.

Oh well....

I think I got intimidated by the long ass entry I would have to write after my return from France. I kept putting it off. Then, every time I thought about blogging, I knew it would require a huge time commitment.

Suffice it to say that I had a great time in France. Let's move on.

I'm going to forgive myself the failure to recount that trip in exquisite detail and just continue with regular daily banter.

Anyway, back to Julie's post. She encouraged her blog readers to grab the nearest book and copy the 5th line from page 56.

I am currently reading "Kitchen Confidential" (and yes, I know I'm supposed to set a book title in italics or underline, but I don't know how to do that on Blogger) by Anthony Bourdain. It is a great read.

So, line 5 as it appears on page 56 is as follows:

Line Cooking-the real business of preparing the food you eat-- is more about consistency, about mindless, unvarying repetition, the same series of tasks performed over and over and over again in exactly the same way."

Julie then encourages her readers to convey the next two or three lines. Here they are:

The last thing a chef wants in a line cook is an innovator, somebody with ideas of his own who is going ot mess around with the chef's recipes and presentations. Chefs require blind, near-fanatical loyalty, a strong back and an automaton-like consistency of execution under battlefield conditions.

I kind of enjoy reading about this profession. I have no experience with it. My culinary expertise consists of chopping veggies and tossing a frozen pizza into the oven.

Anthony Bourdain has a show called "No Reservations." You should check it out (and his book if you can). He is very articulate, very cheeky, and very entertaining.

Thanks, Jules, for getting me to break my blog ice after all this time. Go ahead..raise the topic of books and try to keep me quiet!!

Dusty Snausage

I took a brief foray to Downtown Crossing in Boston today, for no other reason than I had some time to kill before meeting my cousin, Jules, for lunch.

I was amused by the sight of a sausage vender who had set up his cart right on a corner where there is an absolutely massive construction project happening. There was debris of all shapes and sizes raining down on this guy's sausage stand, and he was carrying on as if nothing was happening. The crazy thing is that he had plenty of customers there, which only served to reaffirm his choice to set up shop right there, smack in the middle of a massive dig-up.

The other little thing I wanted to write about was the scene that unfolded in front of the DSW store.

I was on my way in, and about to reach for the door, when this young couple cut right in front of me. "Even better" I thought, "Let them open the door for me."

The woman reached for the door, and in fact had her hand on the handle to open it. As she was about to execute the opening of the door, another friend called out to her, and the couple proceeded to have a raucous conversation in Spanish (and for quite some time) all the while exhibiting no intention to leave the doorway so as to facilitate my entry. And it isn't as if they had seen me. We had already acknowledged each other with polite nods. But once they stated their conversation, they just chose to ignore me, while clogging up the door.

Finally, I sort of barked, "Excuse me" and barreled through the door. I could feel their angry eyes boring a hole in my back as I walked by them, but I didn't care.

Bad TV

In my last post, I talked about our new cable subscription. More importantly, I addressed my emerging obsession with some really bad shows. It's rather frightening how this can happen so quickly.

When bad TV happens to good people!

Anyway, I'm getting reacquainted with LIfetime here (having managed to pry myself away from Bravo in order to reestablish my connection with the esteemed "television for women" channel). Sure I've flipped through the channels and briefly lingered at Lifetime prior to today, but old episode of "The Golden Girls" and "Designing Women" just haven't been enough to entice me to stop and take note. Today, however, all that changed. The combination of the driving rain outside and the "Fallen Angels" marathon on Lifetime is enough to have me hooked.

Yeah, that's right. I said the "Fallen Angels" marathon! I probably don't have to spell out the leitmotiv of the films, but I will anyway because it is too delicious not to. The movies all spin the yarns of highly successful young women who ha effed up royally in one way or the other. The last movie they played depicted the not-so-original saga of the straight-A-student who gets preggers with her boyfriend's kid, much to her mother's chagrin.

Yawn.

The movie on now, however, is pretty decent. A young woman gets into Harvard, but before taking off for the ivy-lined, hallowed halls of the venerable institution, she marries her high school sweetheart, who, at the time of the wedding, is awaiting his final decision on his own Harvard application. Needless to say, he does not get in, and is stuck working construction jobs while his wife hob-nobs with her new Harvard friends. Enter cute guitar-playing classmate, and impending marital disaster.

I'll let you know what happens.

I'm sure that at some point that Brian Austin Greene movie about "Too Young to Be a Father" will come on. Or maybe that focuses too much on the boy, not the "fallen angel." I guess that movie will have to be fitted into another marathon..."Boys To Men Too Quickly" or some crap. I'm sure Lifetime will name is something a lot less awkward, and with a much more dramatic flare. I'm just not Lifetime marathon-naming caliber, I guess.

At 7 there's something on called "Odd Girl Out." I didn't even read the description of that one, but GEE, I wonder what on earth is could be about. And then at 9 they're premiering something called, "Cheerleaders Gone Wild." Sounds a bit pornographic, if you ask me.

Anyway, moving on....

In a posting about really cheesy TV, I would be remiss if I did not mention the crap on Bravo. I know I talked about it yesterday, but after having been forced to dwell on the reading matter for these horrible courses for an entire month, I consider it a welcome chance for my mind to be completely trapped focusing on these shows. I like a little brain-deadness.


Did I mention "Flipping Out" in my last post? In the even that I didn't, let me talk about it again. Here's a picture of that asshole, Jeff Lewis. Just so you can put a face with the name as I rant....



Man, this guy is a jerk. He is such an arrogant, egotistical, self-centered, world-ends-at-the-tip-of-my nose Bitch! I have never heard him speak to anybody with anything other than apparent contempt. My god, how any of those people keep working for him is well beyond me. I suppose it is safe to assume they remain in his employ for the television exposure. Although they needn't bother. They're all such talentless ass clowns that the likelihood that they'll be picked up by some other show is nil to none!

I am oddly compelled to watch the show, as I said before. I don't know why, but when he's on, I just want to invest so much energy in hating his ass that I just can't swap the channel! Isn't that sick?

Can I just say one more thing about Lewis before I move on?

Calm down with the lip Botox, Jeff! Jesus.

On second thought, a few more injections, and his lips will be so massive that he won't be able to talk. Might not be such a bad idea!


Shear Genius is another show that I am really enjoying...




Jaclyn Smith is the host and she looks great for 9,000 years old. Actually, if I looked half as good as her at 34, I'd look freakishly amazing!

Good show. Different from most reality shows because the people have to actually possess and demonstrate some talent in order to win. Usually these reality shows consist of people laying around on sofas, covered in blankets, whispering in the dreaded "fake raspy" voice about whom to enter into allegiances with and whom to vote against. At least with "Genius" people have to DO something.

It was interesting to watch it with Lauren today, because she could give little annotations about what "I'm going to bring her hair to a 9B instead of a 6E" really means. It was like having my own talking caption!

I'll have to go over there and watch it with her again.

Oh, wait...she actually has a life.

Back Among the Living

Do you remember how I once complained about not getting the summer school job? Well, in retrospect, I realize that this was the biggest blessing in disguise ever!

I had harbored these romantic images of me teaching every day until 1:00, then going over to Umass from 5-9. I thought, "This might be a slight pain in the arse, but I can handle it."

That was before I encountered EH, my "Designing Middle and Secondary School Curriculum" professor. Eunny pronounced, Oonie), as she liked to be called, was hell on wheels. This course only lasted one month. In that time, I wrote:

a pre and post assessment of my understanding of curriculum (1.5 pages each)
a 5 page "philosophy of education" at the beginning of the course
a 33 page critique of an existing ELA curriculum in Epsom, NH
a 19 page suggested modification of the curriculum
a 42 page document with three lesson plans**
a 5 page reflective paper on a presentation I gave to the class.
a post-course "updated" philosophy of education, this one totaling 13 pages. ***

**: I was required to cite literature and write a lengthy introduction to my lesson plan. NO teacher EVER writes formal lesson plans after five minutes in the business. They certainly don't write lesson plans with citations and freaking literature citations. Jesus!

***: She "corrected" my original philosophy of education, and told me to rewrite it, citing the literature we had read in class. Ahh...the literature was SHITE, and I had to basically scrap my enduring philosophy of education and write one in which I proclaim to model myself after the phony baloney "experts" we read in the course. NO teacher has a 13 page philosophy of education. Well, except for me.

The woman was psychotic and incredibly hypocritical. Keep the following three examples in mind:

1. She would regularly talk about the evils and ineffectiveness of lecturing the kids. She would tell us we would lose them, that they have an average attention span of 7 minutes, that kids will just disengage. Then, as these warnings were still hot and wet off her lips, she would launch in to lectures that would last for an hour or more! Fucking horrid.

2. When one of the women in our group didn't do her part of the project, she told us all she was refusing to accept the work. When I went to see her to appeal to her "logic" to evaluate the rest of us on the portion of the work we had done individually, she kept insisting that it was our problem as the work was meant to be collaborative. When I set up and appointment to meet her privately, she got angry, slammed the chair back under the table, buried her face in her laptop and barked, "Nancy, if you were having this conversation with your student, what would it look like?" After a brief pause, I told her, "It would not look like this, I can guarantee you that!" Then I called her a hypocrite for telling us to respect our students, and then treating me like this behind closed doors. She showed up to class ten minutes later, acting as if nothing had happened. I gave her the silent treatment for two days, and she asked my classmate, Mary, "What's wrong with Nancy?" Ahhhhh.....????

3. See the abovementioned list of work!! Add to that the average of 150 pages of reading per night.

Anyway, I'm freakin' done! My second class was pretty painless, but I'm glad to have it over, too. It seems strange not to have a major dissertation to write.

Ok, enough about that.

Every summer Stephen wants to watch the Tour de France, so we upgrade our cable. Usually I can take it or leave it, but this time around, I'm inexplicably addicted to BRAVO!!



Come on....what's not to love?

Project Runway....You're out, "Auf wiedersehen!"

Shear Genius. Awesome. Annoyingly obnoxious and egotistical people. An impossibly young looking Jaclyn Smith (she has to contain lots of plastic at this point), the over-the-top dramatics.

That Real Estate show with the absolute most arrogant asshole I've ever seen in my life (you know, the guy with the huge lips and the worst case of cheerleader cadence-itis I ever did hear.) He is so horrible and yet I'm oddly compelled to watch.

Now there's the Real Housewives show coming up, and the real estate show with the 12 year-old brokers, one of whom has that horrible combed-entirely-forward hairdo. Very dodgy.

I read something about Bridezillas on Reesie's blog. Is that on Bravo, too? Does anybody know anything about this? Praytell.

And finally, my computer is back. Lauren took me over to pick her up, for which I'm extremely grateful.

The silence of my computer is deafening. Whereas pre-repair it sounded like a jetway, it now sound blissfully like nothing. I'm trying to be optimistic, but we've been here before. A new logicboard and power supply, followed by a few days of silence. Then right back to grinding fans and all the other good stuff. But hey...as long as I'm still under warranty, I'll just keep bringing it in for repairs.

And hey....

7 days and counting until France!!

An Evening With Old Friends

I can't think of any other way to sum up an evening spent with Bon Jovi. I'm not delusional. I don't have imaginary friendships with the members of Bon Jovi. I don't labor under the delusion that any of these fabulous men are aware of my existence on the planet.

However, every time I go to a Bon Jovi show, from the moment they take the stage, I feel like I'm getting together with old friends. I guess that's what happens when a girl first sees a band when she's 12 years old, and she's still just as stoked about seeing them when she's pushing the ripe old age of 35.

The real treat of the evening came when we got to get up close and personal with the Jovi. He appeared on a side stage in the crowd, not far from where Lauren and I were sitting. We just kind of looked at each other, taking our great height into consideration, and then looked at the other four foot garden gnomes in the audience and we knew what had to be done.

We just plowed over people. I'm not sure if we left anybody injured in our wake, but Christ...this is JOVI! What were we supposed to do? Ace like ethical human beings or something? No...our only choice was to turn the other people in the crowd into human bowling pins and knock them the hell over.

Listen, in the presence of greatness, people tend to abandon all sense of reason and decency. The saddest part is that I don't even feel bad. I'd do it again in a heartbeat.

Just keep that in mind if you see me at a Bon Jovi show. I'm bigger than you. I'm not afraid to use my size to my advantage. If you're in my way, I'll have to crush your ass to get even a milimeter closer to JBJ.

I got some GREAT pictures. Lauren is using my sexy Canon camera at the show tonight (Yeah, she's going again), so I'll have to post my photos tomorrow. For tonight you'll have to make due with this Kenneth Cole advertisement.

Listen to me...."You'll have to make due."

Jesus...I know you all just canceled your dates for Tomorrow night so you can sit home and stare at this God all night long.

Go ahead...try to deny it.

The music was great. The relics of the 80's that comprised the audience did not disappoint, either. Acid washed jeans abounded. Deep fried piggyback perms were abundant. There was no shortage of poorly executed mullets and two-cent floozies. I mean, come on people. I know the eighties are sort of making a bit of a comeback. But these slobs are wearing the outfits from the first time around, blissfully unaware that there was a twenty five year gap in which that leather vest with no shirt underneath was not acceptable. Well, that particular fashion trend never was, isn't, and never will be acceptable. But you know what I'm getting at here.

Anyway, I must point out how gracious Bon Jovi are. They pull all the old warhorses (Livin' on a Prayer, You Give Love a Bad Name, Runaway) with a huge grin on their faces and an unparalleled (spelling?) enthusiasm. They always seem humbled by the fact that the audience acutally knows every word to every single song, and they seem to genuinely enjoy the fact that they've had this connection with their fans.

Take, for instance, "Livin on a Prayer." They played the first couple of cords of the song, and then the audience just took over from there, without Jovi even chiming in. The jumbotron overhead projected an image of a beaming JBJ during the crowd performance. Upon its conclusion, he said, "See....this is why I keep coming back to Boston!"

You know he's had to sing that song nine million times in his life, but there is he, happy as a clam to do it for the nine million and first time for us. The band seems to enjoy the music as much as the crowd down.

Very refreshing.

I tell you, there is nothing like a Bon Jovi concert. If you have't been to one yet, you haven't lived.

That's my story and I'm sticking to it.

The Rumor Mill

Today during a professional development meeting my cell phone rang.

Normally I would not even dream of answering my phone at such an inopportune time. However, seeing as where my superintendent had just seen fit to blast me in front of all my colleagues, I wasn't feeling terribly professional.

So...I picked up the phone. It was my friend, Maura. She is also a teacher in the district. She was at another professional development meeting with another teacher from my school.

As soon as I picked up the phone, Maura was gushing her heartfelt congratulations. I was flummoxed. I asked her what on earth she was congratulating me on. "Linda M. just told me you're pregnant," she cooed.

Ahhhh.....????

No.

I'm not pregnant. But if people are thinking I am, I had best get my ass to Jenny Craig on the double.

Strange.

Talk about being the last to know.

Graduation

Today is my last day of school. Usually I'm totally psyched for this day to happen. Today, however, I approach the day with a little more sobriety than I normally would. (And no, I don't mean sobriety as in the opposite of bombed, but rather in the opposite sense than gleeful. Just wanted to clear that up.)

This is my first year with an 8th grade homeroom. I always taught 8th grade, but previously I had 7th grade homerooms. And sure I was sad to see the 8th graders leave, but there was, I guess, a little sense of removal from all that emotion. Last year, when my 8th grade teaching colleagues retired, I asked the principal if I could take a grade 8 homeroom.

It has been a fantastic year. My homeroom rocked. The kids were funny, considerate, personable and just straight up good. Sure, they were goofs sometimes. Of course I had to tell them off for being jackasses every once in a while. But we "got" each other. I knew they were awesome kids, even if they were having a not-so-awesome-kids day, and they knew I loved them, even if I had to play the heavy or remove some privilege temporarily or something. We all knew our roles, and for the most part, we played them.

Me and my homeroom. It was a match made in heaven.

I have threatened, more than a few times this year, to report all their final averages for their classes as failing. This would ensure that they would have to stay behind in 8th grade and I could keep them for another year. They would chuckle and promise that if I passed them, they'd come back to visit.

I guess I'll have to live with that.

But in all seriousness, these kids have been attending this school since kindergarten. It is high time that they moved on. They are so ready to be done with elementary school. (There are good and bad things to be said about k-8 schools. It keeps them every so slightly younger for an every so slightly longer period of time. That's obviously a good thing. But they really start to feel cramped after a while. Obviously that's a bad thing.)

So, I have to let them go. I will be there today, amidst the 8th grade girl tears, comforting and consoling and telling them that they will be great at the high school and that after two days there, they'll never look back or long for their elementary school days. I'll say all this cheerfully, knowing that it's true. But inwardly, I will be heavyhearted. This is the BEST homeroom a teacher could ever have had. I LOVED these kids.

But as I said...it is their time. Keeping them would be unfair.

And now I'm off. I have an extremely early start to my last day because one of my students called me yesterday after she found out that some of the kids' pictures were missing from the CD yearbook they did. It turns out that the guy who did the CD burning for us (while we were on our field trip) burned the wrong file. It was one of the drafts and not the final project. In my mind, I was thinking, "What's the big deal?" But then I realized that of course it is a VERY big deal for the poor kids whose pictures don't appear in their own 8th grade yearbook. So, I trudged down to Target, picked up a pack of CDs, made plans to meet Tina at school at 7, and start the final burn!

This was after staying at school until 5:00 conducting interviews for a new 8th grade teacher.

Who said the end of the year was easy?

Well....I'm off. Tina and yearbook duty call.