Stopping By Woods on a Sunny Sunday

Just trying out the new Flipster. Beautiful day today. We had a great visit with Jean and John both yesterday and this morning before they left for Ft. Lauderdale. They treated us to an anniversary dinner last night, and we got to see the photos from their trip to Amsterdam, Berlin, St. Petersberg and Helsinki. More later.

December musings

I slept till 9 a.m. Christmas morning. We drank coffee, read the paper, and got a phone call from Derek, who said he and Erin had been awake since 6 something, so Nick could open his presents. Oh, yes, I know that drill. We didn't even think to open presents till about 11. Since we're not highly driven to buy, buy, buy! at Christmas, Liberto received the clothes I'd gotten him, I re-opened my Flip Video (which I had wrapped), and Paul said he was thrilled with the globe and didn't want anything else. According to him, "I have everything I want." Liberto's sisters sent a huge box of gifts for us. Gina was in the states visiting Grelia last month, and they went shopping on our behalf. They have always been generous to a fault. I know Grelia's husband was laid off this year, and her hours were also cut back. He's since landed another job, but surely they must be tight because of the ripple effect of a few weeks or months without the usual income. Yet Grelia has always sent presents, no matter how hard times have been. It's that Latina Thing.

After a nice meal, we went to see Curious Case of Benjamin Button, which was awesome. The theme, of course, is about time, love, and loss. Whether one goes forward in aging or backwards in aging, life inevitably brings love and loss. Benjamin Button is born an old man. His mother dies in childbirth and he is abandoned by his father, who drops him off on the doorstep of a nursing home, where one of the attendants takes him in and raises him. He fits in perfectly with the elderly residents because he looks like an old man and has all the ailments of advanced age even though he is still a child. At the home, the older people begin to die off, but of course there are always new elderly residents to take their places, reinforcing the point that everyone is taking the same journey towards God's waiting room. But Benjamin de-ages, and somewhere in the middle, his life intersects with a woman who is aging normally. His first attempt to be with her does not work out because the timing is off; she is too young, giddy and full of herself. Later, she is too self-absorbed with pity about an accident which has damaged her ballet legs. But suddenly, when the timing is right, there is a window of a few years when they mesh well; they are the same "age." Then the timing goes off-kilter again, when his increasing youthfulness and her increased maturity throw the relationship off. He leaves to sow his very first wild oats---after all, he's never been young before. And she, as a mature woman, has a child to raise and responsibilities to keep. Eventually, Benjamin becomes a child, a cantankerous, disobedient, troublesome one. His behavior is similar to that of an elderly person with Alzheimers whose true personality has been eclipsed by the disease. Then he's a baby, with no consciousness. To steal a quote from the original short story, "Then it was all dark, and his white crib and the dim faces that moved above him, and the warm sweet aroma of the milk, faded out altogether from his mind." Of course, the movie was not entirely faithful to the short story; for example, the timeline was pushed up to the 20th century from the 19th, but the concept was the same, and the movie conveyed the messages well.

Bradd Pitt said on Oprah the other day that he considered New Orleans to be one of the important characters of the movie. That was true. The sense of New Orleans was strong.

On to another subject, I started and am halfway through a hilarious novel called Getting Rid of Matthew. A thirty-something single woman has been having an affair with her boss, a married man, for four years and has nagged him continously to leave his wife. Imagine her surprise when he arrives at her flat one night with his suitcases and announces that he has left his wife and is moving in with her! Suddenly, he seems far less attractive at close range, in a small, crowded flat. She discovers that he snores, he dyes his hair, he has irritating mannerisms. And he's so old! But now she's stuck with him! Now her mission is to find a way to get make him move out because she realizes she doesn't love him. It's a laugh-out-loud page-turner, loaded with Britishly wry wit.

Today, the 26th, is my parents' wedding anniversary. If they had lived, they would have been married 61 years. Not too many people live long enough to have a 61st anniversary. I often wonder, if my mother had lived longer, would they have remained married for another 17 years? I suspect yes. Although times had changed for women during the decade my mother died (1972), I have trouble picturing her leaving my father and striking out on her own. Of course, in those days before no-fault divorce swept the country, if a couple divorced, the man had to pay alimony, so the financial part wouldn't have been a problem. But because she was a troubled soul, I somehow can't imagine her living alone and creating a new life. Diana and I have talked about this, and she has the opposite perspective. She imagines our mother breaking away from our father and really thriving on her own. Part of this is because Diana sees our mother's problems as stemming from my father. If he were removed from the picture, then she would have blossomed. At least that's Diana's vision. We'll never know.

Well, tomorrow is our 23rd anniversary. Today, Liberto said sentimentally, "Remember 24 years ago today?" I said, "Do you, by chance, mean 23 years ago?" He gulped and hemmed and hawed. "Ah yes, 23 years." I guess it only seems longer to him. What I do remember is how frightening our situation was in December of 1985. I was still in my doctoral program at LSU, earning a Teaching Assistant's salary of next to nothing, and was preparing to go onto the job market as an ABD, All But Dissertation. I couldn't wait around LSU finishing my dissertation because we were so destitute. We needed an income! Liberto was still working on his undergraduate degree at LSU and was delivering pizzas on the side to help make ends meet. It was not a pretty picture, quite frankly. He agrees. All these concerns were weighing heavily on our minds the night before we got hitched in Pasadena, California, in 1985.

One year later, I was employed full-time at Francis Marion in SC, (having delivered Paul two weeks before the fall semester started) while Liberto continued his courses at a nearby college, which he'd transferred his credits to. He also worked nights at Piece Goods, a fabric store. We were still in tough shape financially, but hope was on the horizon. At least I had a real job, and at least he was close to graduation. Five years later, I was a tenure track assistant professor at Georgia Southern, and my dissertation was completed although I still needed to do the defense in the spring of '91. Liberto had finished his degree, had gained some real-job engineering experience in SC (for slave wages but he learned a lot), and had just been hired by the City of Savannah as an engineering aide. He also became a full-fledged US citizen in 1990. We'd purchased our first house on Nicholson Circle. Ten years later, twenty years later, 23 years later...the outcome is better than I would have imagined in 1985.

Tomorrow, cousins Jean and John will be here to join us in a toast.

Enjoying the break; hate the shopping

I feel sleepy today. Maybe my body is just allowing it to happen after suppressing it for the past few months. Yesterday, Paul and I went to the mall to buy Liberto some presents. He wanted clothes, so we drove to Oglethorpe Mall. It was only about 10 a.m., but people were beginning to take up too much space. I really do prefer internet shopping. After I had bought him three pairs of pants and three shirts, we left. On the way home, Paul wanted to stop at the other mall and walk through Outdoor World. We pulled into Savannah Mall. The parking lot was jammed tight. The parking lot aisles are very narrow, but that didn't stop the SUV's and trucks from aggressively forging ahead through these tight passages, or backing out of spaces without looking behind. We walked through Outdoor World, both floors, then into the mall. Paul's true motive was soon revealed as we got closer to the Food Court. Once there, he requested Japanese food. It was almost lunch time, so I sprang for it. He got take-out, and we walked back through the mall, through Outdoor World, to the car. Actually, now that I think of it, we walked a lot yesterday.

At home, I wrapped Liberto's presents, each one in a separate box, with paper and bows. I'm a terrible gift-wrapper, with the grace of a four-year-old. Since he's still struggling with the undiagnosed pain, I was hoping the sight of cheerfully wrapped presents would boost his spirits when he got home.

He had a late afternoon appointment with the chiropractor yesterday, so he arrived home feeling much better. After dinner, he set up the webcam to phone cousin Carlos in Rochester, to wish him a feliz cumpleanos. Though they are cousins, the two of them grew up as brothers. Venezuelans don't seem to have any family boundaries; all relatives are just one big, never-ending family. As a little boy, Carlos came to live in Liberto's house for six months while his madre was ill, and the two boys shared a room. In the '80's, Carlos came to the states about a year before Liberto did. They stayed together at the English Language Institute in Mississippi until Liberto entered LSU in Baton Rouge. Carlos, who is Liberto's age less one week, is married to an older Venezuelan woman who is my age! Carlos and Yolanda live in Rochester, NY, where I spent my formative childhood years. He is an Associate V.P. for an international company and travels to Europe and South America all the time.

While Liberto was talking with Carlos, via computer, I had a call on the regular line from Gail, a woman I worked with and liked at Groves. She filled me in on all the gossip and rumors over there, giving me the names of the teachers whom the principal has selected as her targets of dislike this year, telling me who had abandoned ship (one teacher who landed a job at Armstrong made a big drama out of throwing the keys to his classroom onto her desk in a grand gesture of resignation), and just how foolishly the entire district was being managed. For example: the principal is making the teachers return to work on Friday, Jan. 2. Would it really have killed the administration to give the teachers that last Friday of the week, the day after New Year's, off? Another good one is that they've scheduled the state end-of-course test for Jan. 5, the day the students return from Christmas vacation. How's that for fine planning? As Gail said, the two weeks vacation is just enough time for everything they've learned to be erased from their minds. The first semester then drags on until Jan. 26, so the lame-duck students will have ample time to get restless and resistant to more work. In addition, the teachers have to post lesson plans on their doors every day. The Literacy Coach breathes down their necks looking for flaws in their plans. Talking to Gail also brought back memories of the sorry disciplinary management over there. What a backwards system, having to deliver a form directly to Mr. D., who was never in his office and never anywhere to be found, except as a blur running down the hall yelling, "Young man! Get back here!"
I told Gail that if there's ever an opening for an English teacher at RHHS, I'd let her know, but she said she can never leave Groves because it's six minutes from her house, and her husband is in poor health. She wants to be close in case she has to run home during the work day, and so she can be home right after the afternoon bell rings.

Last night, Liberto and I stayed up and watched a couple of Law and Orders. This morning when I awoke at 8, he was already gone. I remember hearing him moving around the room earlier, getting pills from bottles, collecting his things, but I fell back asleep. Later this morning, Paul and I went to Wal-Mart for grocery shopping. When we got back at about 1:00, we put the groceries away, and I sank into the easy chair in front of the big screen. It's so cozy here. I can rotate between the book I'm reading, a t.v. show, some internet surfing, and a bit of writing. I should be cleaning the house right now, but I feel so relaxed and lethargic right where I am.

First leisurely weekend in a LONG time

My grandson lost a tooth!



Derek and Nick!

Sunday: Yesterday, I had a wonderful day of doing very little. I went to the hairdresser for a maintenance trim, and got an inverted bob cut, kept it long in the front, but more angled towards a shorter back. After that, we had planned to go to the theater to see The Day the Earth Stood Still, but before we could leave, Liberto got onto the webcam to his sisters in Venezuela, and they happened to mention that the movie was really cheesy, so we changed our minds. I wanted to see Benjamin Button, but it hadn't opened yet. To most people, it's just the latest Brad Pitt movie, but I'm familiar with it as one of F. Scott Fitzgerald's short stories. Years ago, when I was about eight my mother read the story "Benjamin Button" aloud to me one evening in Chicago. She had just read it and thought it fascinating, so she re-read it to me. Later, I read it again myself. The premise of the story is thought-provoking. Whether one begins as an old man or a new baby, it's all the same. We come full circle, as Shakespeare said in "The Seven Ages of Man."

After changing our minds about the movie, we decided to go to Best Buy to buy my Christmas present, a Flip Video Camcorder. I recently borrowed the Flip Video from our school's Media Center and had no end of fun doing movies of the students. I fell in love with it and had to have my own!! While at Best Buy, I saw a super-sized messenger bag with a big shoulder strap that could easily carry, and with some dignity, all the stacks of student papers I carry back and forth every day. I haven't stopped thinking about that bag. I'm tempted to go back tomorrow and buy it while I do some shopping for Liberto.

We also stopped at Office Depot to look for a globe. Paul's current obsession is Earth's time zones, which he researches on the computer continuously. He wanted a globe for Christmas, the better to visualize time zones I guess, so we got one. Meanwhile, predictably, since we'd been walking around, Liberto's back began to act up, and it got worse and worse until he could barely speak, so we drove home, and he stretched out on the couch and took his medications. He's now taking 6 or 8 pills per day. He had his spinal MRI on Friday and will get the results next week. I hope there are some results that can be worked with, rather than the all-too-familiar "we don't-see-anything wrong" response.

This morning, I awoke at 8 a.m.--I'd put the cat outside at 6 a.m. and successfully returned to dreamland. Liberto was still asleep. I didn't know whether he'd taken one of his heavy-duty pain meds before bed last night and may have been having a rare good sleep, so I didn't want to disturb him. I went into the living room to read the paper and drink coffee with the cat snuggled up on my lap. Gus is always so-o-o sweet after spending a few hours outside.

This morning I made progress on my on-going de-cluttering project, throwing away papers from the past semester and straightening up the room where these papers had been taking up space. I have a lot more to do. The house is hard to maintain, with both of us working long hours on weekdays. On weekends, I have papers and lesson plans, while Liberto is even less inclined to do housework now that his back is a problem. Paul mops the kitchen floor, takes out the garbage, does the dishes, and does whatever I ask him to, but I there are more cleaning projects than there are people in the house to do them. Keeping up with the animals is another cleanliness issue. The dog is about 13 now and has been having some health problems. A few weeks ago, I noticed that he was peeing more often, and for the first time, on the carpet if I don't open the back door fast enough. Senility doesn't seem to be a factor, so I suspected a urinary tract infection, and took him to the vets on Wednesday. They took a urine sample (I didn't ask how they managed to get it; they took him for a little walk outside while I remained in the waiting room). The vet called on Friday confirming a UTI but also found some "abnormalities" in his sample, so he has to go back for another test after he finishes his current round of antibiotics. I fear he might be in kidney failure or have something more serious than an ordinary infection.

I talked to Diana this afternoon. Yesterday, she fell down the stairs in her house, and was traumatized by it but relieved to have survived it. As she said, "I'm so pessimistic, that an event like that makes me think about how much worse it could have been." She's all right, but had the wind knocked out her and is in a lot of pain today. She didn't go to a doctor or the hospital because she didn't think it was serious enough to have to pay mega out-of-pocket bucks for x-rays or a visit---her health insurance plan, which she says is pathetic, has a huge deductible. She said she would have sought medical help if her injuries had seemed life-threatening or highly serious. Just about a month ago, she broke her toe, also while at home, and did go to a doctor. A couple hundred bucks later, she was told there was nothing that could be done, just keep the toe straight and it would heal on its own. I sure hope our President-Elect will come up with a viable national health insurance solution. There are millions of people without any access to health care due to lack of insurance and/or the ridiculous costs, and that's simply wrong. Some idiot recently wrote a letter to the editor mocking the idea of universal health care, using as his example Sen. Ted Kennedy. The writer said that if we had universal health care, the Senator would have to wait months to get treatment for his brain tumor instead of receiving care right away under the our wonderful current system. Didn't the writer realize that universal health care would mainly help people whose only other alternative was no care whatsoever? The Kennedy's of the world will always be able to cough up enough cash for private treatment, whether they have health insurance or not.

Tomorrow is the 19th anniversary of my father's death. Readers may remember that I was in Venezuela on the day he died in Vermont. The date of his death is also cousin Carlos' birthday, and I will forever link the two events. On the day,Dec. 22, 1989, twenty minutes before I got the call about Dad, cousin Carlos called the familia's house, returning the familia's calls to him to wish him a happy birthday. Thinking it was Diana with some news, I picked up the phone that morning, and it was Carlos instead of Diana, so I spoke to him for a few minutes, wished him a happy birthday, and then told him I had to get off because I was expecting a call from my sister to get an update on Dad's condition. Paul and Liberto just now tried to call Carlos to wish him a feliz cumpleanos a day in advance, since they'll both be at work tomorrow. I took my mother's death hard too, since I was a young thing, and we also had unfinished business. Her death seemed like such a waste. All her children had lingering feelings of anger, guilt, resentment. With Dad's death, all of us were heartbroken after watching his slow, pathetic decline from a vibrant, youthful, intelligent person into a thin, confused and gray-faced patient in a nursing home.

However, that was 19 years ago, and the grieving has largely passed. Right now, I'm happy that it's Sunday night and I don't have to get ready for class tomorrow. We are just startng to watch Cold Case, so it's time to kick back and relax.

Quick Film in Lieu of a Written Post

Full moon Friday

Friday, Friday! I'm so ready for it. This has been the longest week I can remember since school started. The students are burned out and getting restless. I'm burned out and need a break. People who aren't teachers may not undestand how the full-time intensity of the job can run you down, over time.

An overnight wind this week blew all the leaves off the trees. Just like that. One day they're bright and full, the next day, the branches are bare. Except for the lemon tree, of course, which doesn't lose leaves. The ground is now covered with crackly leaves, and the surface of the fish pond is decorated with their colors. Last night, Paul told me to step out and look at the full moon because it was brighter than he'd ever seen it. It was a gorgeous lemon-yellow circle, lighting up the night as though it was day. I remember a lengthy, memorable scene from one D.H. Lawrence novel in which the entire village goes into the fields one autumn night and harvests all the crops by moonlight. Tonight, the moon is supposed to be even brighter.

Liberto has doctor appointments three days next week, on Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday. One is for a nerve test, another is to see a chiropractor, and the third is for a spinal MRI. I hope we can get to the bottom of the problem soon.

We are a tired old couple! It's only 5:50, and he's falling asleep in the chair. He said he didn't sleep well last night, which, unfortunately, is the norm, even when he's not burdened by health issues. He just doesn't sleep well, never has. I sleep extremely well every night, but once or twice in the last 60 years, I've had the experience of feeling as though I hadn't slept for the entire night. It's awful! Once, when I told him one morning that I hadn't slept all night, or felt as though as I hadn't, he replied, "Welcome to my world!" My sister is also a non-sleeper. Is she chronically depressed because she can't sleep, or can she not sleep because is chronically depressed? But L. is not depressed. Maybe my sister's sleep issue is merely coincidental.

Paul just invited me outside to observe tonight's full moon. It's glorious! Maybe this explains why the dog is acting crazy and hyper, dancing around the house, clip-clopping behind me, barking. But it hasn't affected the cat, who is snoozing on the couch beside me. Sounds like a good idea.

December foliage

Another beautiful Sunday, clear blue skies and bright foliage. The colors have been more vivid than usual this year and more long-lasting. It's mild outside, with a slight breeze blowing crackled red leaves to the ground. I've got vacation fever, and have been having a hard time keeping myself focused on grading the last few research papers---the ones which had no documentation and were promptly returned to the students with instructions to DO THE DOCUMENTATION and re-submit. I've also got to plan activities to fill up 8 more days, at a time when the students have already had their state End-of-Course-Test, which took place on two consecutive days last week. They still have a final exam in 8 days. But should I spoon feed them the main points of the literature we've already covered? I know some students haven't read the works well, or at all. I don't want to enable their laziness. Thank goodness, the final exam HAS to be multiple choice, with scantrons, because the final grades are due in the same day. I'd decided that I wanted to do it that way this time anyway. When I gave the 9 weeks' test, I used open-ended and short answer questions, even an essay, in my quest to follow good pedagogy. But it took me forever to grade them. The teacher who shares the classroom with me gave hers a multiple choice scantron and had them done within hours.




Last night we went to the faculty Christmas party at someone's house. I've gotten to know a woman from the school who must be a good thirty years younger than I am. She is currently a Special Ed teacher but hates it and wants to become a regular English teacher. She is taking the appropriate exam in January. Next semester, she's going to be in my classroom for two out of three periods as the SPED support. Apparently, she went out of her way to re-arrange some student schedules to be in the class with me, and I've expressd enthusiasm that she will be, because I love having another adult in the room. With my current SPED teacher, she is the second pair of eyes that spots students throwing spitballs. She hands out papers. She offers additional thoughts about the lesson.

Back to the other woman who'll be with me next semester. Something she said last night didn't register at first, but when I awoke this morning in my twilight state---which often offers clarity that we don't have when fully awake---I couldn't shake a slightly uncomfortable feeling about a conversation we had at the party. She said that she had asked my department chair if she could get a spot as a regular English teacher, preferrably seniors, if she passes the exam, and switch out of SPED. The chair told her that the teacher who currently teaches seniors is retiring at the end of the year, and she, the chair, wasn't sure if I would want to teach seniors next year rather than ninth graders. Then she told the Chair that she would really like to teach seniors.

This morning, with a ripple of paranoia, it occurred to me that perhaps she is befriending me and going out of her way to work in my classes so that somehow she can manipulate me into deferring to her career preferences, should that ever become an issue, such as agreeing "Oh, that's okay, you can have the seniors, I'll stick with ninth grade." "Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer," as the old saying goes. However, it's the principal, the AP's and the Chair who decide who'll teach what. It's not my choice, or hers, to make, as far as I know. It's just that I dislike the thought of being played in any way if that's what's going on. Why am I so paranoid? I usually am not.


Frankly, I hadn't given any thought to whether I have a preference for a grade to teach---my feeling has always been that whatever assignment they give me, I'll cheerfully do my best, so happy am I to be at that school. The ninth graders are a handful. I can see the vast gulf between their childish ways and the maturity of the 10th graders who are taught in my classroom by the other teacher during my planning period. I'm not sure there is any advantage to teaching seniors, based on my experience at the previous school. In the last few months before graduation, many had become jaded, insolent and entitled. They had been measured for their caps and gowns, the graduation date was set; why finish the Senior Project? Maybe the seniors at Richmond Hill would be, ahem, different.



A few days ago, I took a cutting from the lemon tree, which was trimmed last week, and planted it the middle of the yard, hoping that maybe it will take root and grow.




It was just too beautiful to trash. Liberto said transplanted branches will never grow, but it's a been almost a week, and this one looks healthy. What remains of the lemon tree is still tall and regal, full of lemons.


I took a picture of myself holding one of the lemons, just to demonstrate how large they are. The ones in the store look puny by comparison.






I was disillusioned to learn on Meet the Press this morning that Obama smokes. I thought this younger generation knew better. Hypocritical as it is, I, the ex-smoker, disapprove of smoking and felt disappointed in him for that. And what's this about Caroline Kennedy's becoming a Senator from New York? She may be a nice enough person and have that magic name, but based on what credentials and experience would she be the best qualified person for Hillary's seat? While the media is in a tizzy about the Camelot-reincarnation possibilities, I'm not impressed by big names as the sole credential for a position of responsibility. But it's a Media Dream, I suppose.


Now, it's time to plan my week. One activity I did last year that the students loved was to create crossword puzzles on crosswordpuzzlemaker with clues that referred to them: "He did his research paper on MapleStory" or "She sketches anime in class when she should be reading" with blank boxes of the appropriate length.


On Thursday, I borrowed a Flip video from the Media Center (note to self: MUST GET MY OWN SOON!)to create a fun documentary "Dr. Agnew's rules of what NOT to do in class." This will be shown to my new 9th grade class in January. I've written 22 little scenarios of naughty student behavior. Now I'm having students act them out on a volunteer basis, exaggeratedly, to make the misbehavior almost funny. The FLIP has built-in software to create a movie with soundtrack instantaneously, so I've been having oodles of fun playing with that and experimenting with different styles and soundtracks(when I should be grading papers). I plan to add many more scenes, of course---these are just the first seven or eight---and I'm going to add whatchucallit, visual title pages before each one, with statements such as "Rule No. 1: Avoid the Grand Entrance" or "Rule No. 2: Do not begin singing at inappropriate times" or "Rule No. 3, No Hair Grooming in Class." Yeah, doing this is a teeny bit more fun than grading. Below is a video.

Colorful rainy day

The leaves are still so bright that the cloudy, rainy day is not dreary at all.

S. answered the phone today when I called. His phone has just been turned back on today, having been off for awhile. I was happy to connect. He's in the process of moving out of his apartment and has just spent the last four days hauling things to the new place and to storage. He'll be renting a room in a fancy house in an elegant neighborhood. He texted me a photo and I also checked it out on google satellite. It's a very nice four-bedroom home. Apparently the owner stretched to buy the house and now needs a little help to meet the mortgage. S's rent will now be much less than the apartment's, though he isn't entirely happy about having to share space with a near-stranger. But he said it was the best situation of many opportunities that came up.

He's been getting by through selling his things on the internet. However, the last time he placed ads, he instructed potential buyers to phone him rather than email back because the internet would soon be cut off. Just after posting the last ad, his phone was cut off, so he couldn't receive calls from prospective buyers. But I think things are turning around. He's sure he'll have a job within a few days...he's been postponing pounding the pavements in favor of finding a less expensive living situation while selling possessions on ebay.

Paul started a tradition in our family. We go out and buy a birthday cake for every family member, whether they live with us or not. So we went out today and bought S's birthday cake in his honor and wired him a little birthday bonus so he won't starve.

We had a big lemon harvest, but not the way I wanted it. Yesterday, while in the attic, L. found a few mice winking at him. He believed they were gaining access to the attic through the lemon tree in the back yard whose branches now protrude onto the roof on one side. He decided it was time to do a little trimming. I knew this would have to happen. We practically have lemons dipping into the water of the pond. But I felt such a loss when those beautiful branches, laden with bright yellow lemons, came crashing to the ground. It seemed like a sacriledge, a travesty against nature. Of course the remaining tree is tall and beautiful and has enough lemons to stock a store, but it still pained me to fell those branches. I loved those branches! They had created a cover that I used to walk under. Now the yard looks so big and exposed. We filled up many bags with fallen lemons, to take to work and give away. I still feel depressed. Is it possible for a tree to be almost a friend?

L. still has back pain. He had an appointment tomorrow, but on Wednesday the doctor called and cancelled it. Now he must wait until tomorrow to re-schedule. Isn't that typical? I hope we can find some solution for his condition soon. I feel his pain too!

Melancholy Birthdays

Today is my brother's 56th birthday. We've grown apart. I saw him once a few years ago in Burlington when I took that memorable drive to Nova Scotia with Jean and Ruth. We stopped for the night in Burlington at Diana's house. She had arranged to import my brother from his home across the lake. We had a pleasant visit considering that we had not seen or heard from each other for at least a decade. (Not that I hadn't tried.) After the visit, I emailed him or wrote or something, but never heard back. Diana says he never calls her either although he'll come to the phone if she calls him. His family sends a newsletter, usually written by his wife or daughter, once per year. It's sad that we have no connection, but at this point, I feel no drive to try again and again to get one. He's never once sent me a birthday card, though I used to send one to him every year. Face it; he just doesn't care.

Unfortunately, my second son inherited the same gene. Or could it be something about the Sagittarian sign? His 35th birthday is tomorrow. He's never been one to communicate from afar---there was once a stretch during his years in Maine where I heard not a word from him for three or four years. Right now, I would very much like to know what's going on with him since he lost his job six weeks ago and does not qualify for unemployment benefits (he texted me that much a month ago). Does he have another job yet?? Is he still in the same apartment? He hasn't returned my messages. Maybe he resents having me in his business, but I'm concerned about whether he has shelter and food. Would any parent feel differently? I predict that when I phone him tomorrow, he will not answer either a)because the phone's disconnected or b)he doesn't want to talk.


Last night, I had a sentimental dream. In the dream, Liberto and I were visiting David, who was still alive, in a farmhouse where he lived. The three of us enjoyed a pleasant conversation over dinner, and talked about going to the movies. However, (suddenly,as happens in dreams but with no surprise)I was pregnant with Shawn and about to deliver him. A midwife appeared and on a mattress in one the farmhouse rooms, I delivered easily and naturally a newborn Shawn, all peachy and pink, the way he really was at birth. Though the real birth was in a hospital, it was a hippie's dream of easy and natural, without those evil DRUGS that the mean male doctors kept pushing on innocent laboring women! The culture at the time pressured women into believing that anything less than natural childbirth was a personal failure. That fad, silly in retrospect, seems to have given way to common sense among today's generation of childbearers. Society, after all, doesn't pressure people into having "natural" root canals.

I woke up from that dream awash with melancholy, first, about David, who is no longer with us, and second, about Shawn, who IS still with us but prefers not to connect.

On the bright side, my sister and I are reasonably close and talk on the phone once a week. On the bright side, my older son calls sometimes and lets us visit.

Thankfully, I have a busy, enriching life with family, friends, neighbors, pets, and job. I'm never bored, and I don't sit by the phone waiting the call that will never come from Brother Paul or Shawn. But when I see how Liberto connects with his sisters and his beloved Mamita and Papa, I admire the Hispanic way. He talks to his stateside sister at least once a day and talks to his parents and other sisters at least once a week, for a long, web-cammed, high-volume conversation. From what I can gather observing his Hispanic friends and their customs, most of them follow that same model. And how they revere their Mommies! American culture, on the other hand, is all about Westward Expansion---on a personal level-- Independence, Freedom, Bravery, Me-Firstness. I recognize this even in myself, when I contrast myself with Liberto's family values. At this age, I don't know how to transform myself into an Hispanic, but I'm thankful to be married to one.

Rainy November day

Despite the rain, the day didn't seem gloomy because the leaves are still so bright. The streets are lined with yellow and orange trees. The grayish backdrop and the shining water seems to accentuate the colors. This morning, before the rain started, Paul and I took another walk in the woods with Pete and noticed that the path was covered with twice as many fallen leaves as yesterday. The tree colors will disappear soon.

We'd been talking about buying a new couch, so when Liberto said this afternoon, "Want to go take a look?" I did not have to be persuaded. Anything to get away from those research papers! It was just beginning to pour when we walked out the front door, so I opened my beautiful frog umbrella. We drove off, windshield wipers at full speed. Not only did we buy a new couch, we bought two couches and a coffee table, at a very good sale price. For us, that's a big day out.

At the first store, we saw a couch we liked, but decided we'd come back tomorrow to get it when it was scheduled to go on sale. Then we went to the next store, "just to look" and both of us fell in love simultaneously with a light blue-green couch that would work well with our living room colors (we now have blue walls; the original light pink having been painted over). For both of us to instantly like the same style and color of anything is a first. When the nice salesman offered a discounted price, we dove into full impulse-shopper-mode and said, "Let's get two! How about a coffee table too!" They'll be delivered in about two weeks.

At the first store, we had also looked at table and chair sets for the kitchen, not that we'd planned to. But furniture stores are as tempting as a pastry shop. Maybe they have subliminal messages written faintly on the items or maybe they've got subliminal suggestions in the music soundtracks, but whatever it is, we were staring hungrily at the nice furniture, probably because most of ours is so plain. We've never been able to give furniture a high priority compared to all the other expenses of life. We've had the same kitchen table for many years, and when I saw a cool, fashionable wooden table, elevated, with a booth-like arangement of black chairs, I wanted it! But Liberto liked a different table, square and traditional, that I thought was too dark and formal. We decided to think about it. At the second store, however, we saw one we both loved. Bingo! But we agreed not to go wild and buy a table and chairs too. Enough is enough for one day.

Now we're settled in back at home. The rain is still streaming down the windows. I've tackled more research papers. I have to keep taking deep breaths---Ommmmmm!---and remind myself that these are only ninth graders, not college students, as I continue to find papers with copy-and-paste plagiarism, memoirs without any research incorporated at all, research with incorporated material but no MLA documentation, etc, etc! I had them write it as a process paper, giving points for each part of the process, from topic to final paper, hoping that way I'd prevent any problems with the final paper. I assigned an I-search research paper, which combines personal story with research because I feel that forces researchers to announce their research and openly evaluate it, rather than hide behind long patches of plagiarized crap. There is a certain structure to the I-search paper. We read a model I-search paper in class, which is right in the student textbook, and I gave them a handout with the I-search structure explicity demonstrated. Ah well. I'm just wondering what I will do differently next semester to get the message across that secondary source material needs to be documented. Actually, I do remember many college students who also couldn't seem to fathom that same message, so I'll try to be patient with these 14-year-olds! I remember Terry telling me that when she was a new teacher, long ago, she got worked up about something a student wrote, so she wrote in the margins, "JESUS CHRIST! You don't really believe that, do you?" Luckily, she had written in pencil, so when common sense and pedagogical training prevailed, she was able to erase the comment and write something a tad more tactful before returning it to the student.

Thanksgiving Day

Here we are, spudded on the couch in front of the big screen, on a nice, lazy Thanskgiving Day. Liberto is on his cell phone with Grelia, volume rising in Spanish, and I'm watching the readable headlines on CNN since the sound is turned off for L's phone call.

The weather was fantastic today, sunny, in the high 60's, but now, at 5:10, the sky is darkening. Earlier, Paul and I took Pete for a walk in the woods. Liberto's back was feeling well enough to cook a pork loin, which is far less work than a turkey, so we had a nice mid-day meal. After that, none of us could work up the initiative to do anything, such as see a movie. We don't go to the movies anymore the way we used to, simply because there is hardly ever anything playing that excites me enough to make the trip. With Netflix, HBO, Pay Per View, and On Demand, it's easy to pass on spending an afternoon huddled into tight seats, surrounded by an auditorium full of people. I wish something would be released that I desperately want to see.

Older son phoned and we had a short conversation before he had to go because friends were arriving. Second son hasn't contacted me for several weeks, not since the last time I wired some money, and hasn't returned my calls. Naturally, I'm concerned about what's up with him.

Yesterday, I had a wonderful time with Terry. We decided to ride in the same car, so she picked me up, and we drove to a Thai Restaurant across from Oglethorpe Mall. Over a tasty meal, we caught up. She has the whole Thanksgiving week off and finishes the semester in another week, whereas, I go right up to the 19th. Yet she says she is very, very burned out and wants very much to retire. Teaching four writing classes each semester is tough; I remember! I was very burned out when I left Georgia Southern. For me, the endless grading of essays was soul-numbing, and add to that the committee work, the meetings, and the constant pressure to publish and present. To be honest, I have lost my desire to do academic research. At this point, there is nothing I can think of it that I'd want to research or write about if I were still an academic. Terry is doing several projects that are interesting to her, but at the same time, she's tired of all the grading that goes with teaching.

Of course we talked a lot about our late colleagues, Pete and David. I always admired how Pete was so committed to his writing that he did it every day from 4 o'clock till midnight, no matter what. Even when he became ill, he was still pounding away at the keyboard every day in the office. I, on the other hand, am probably not a "real" writer like he was. I do not have the urge to write anything more than my blog even though I know I "should" want to write another book. But I haven't been writing a book because 1)I have nothing in particular that I want to say right now and 2)writing a book is such an overwhelming commitment of time, energy and solitude, that when I balance that against the pleasure of the time I have with my family and friends, the joy of reading, and the delight of admiring my lemon tree and koi fish, the latter wins. Furthermore 3)I like my current job, and learning the 9th grade curriculum, preparing, reading, grading takes a lot of time right now. I'd rather devote myself to the job. I still have a creative project budding, but it's not a book. More on that later.

Anyway, back to our lunch and conversation. Terry told me an interesting story. During the Great Depression, her grandmother was in bad shape and had to consider placing Terry's mother and her siblings into an orphanage or foster care because she couldn't afford to provide for them. At the last minute, she wrote a letter to Eleanor Roosevelt, who actually did something about it. She arranged or had her staff arrange, to set Terry's grandmother up with either a job or relief, so she didn't have to give up her children. Since Terry's mother's 80th birthday is on Monday, Terry decided to track down that letter by contacting some government organization. They wrote back to her, with the date and the file number of the presumed letter, which she can now seek from the archives where Ms.Roosevelt's materals are housed. My mother said once I was named after Eleanor Roosevelt. I've always admired her. I happened to be covering the Depression in my class due to its connection to To Kill a Mockingbird. In a United Streaming film, Eleanor Roosevelt was shown in grainy black and white standing outside pouring water for people in Hoovervilles. It was heartwarming to hear a more personal story of how she impacted someone's life.

After lunch, we went to the mall. I don't particularly seek out mall shopping and rarely think about new clothes, but once I'm in a mall, strolling through, I can get into the spirit of spending. We stopped at Barnes and Noble, and I bought a book I'd been wanting to read. We moved on to Macy's, where Terry bought a couple of tops, and I bought some new jeans for Friday dress-down days at school. We drove over to Ann Taylor loft, and I decided I was long overdue for some decent nightwear, so I bought some soft, cottony pants-and-top sleepwear. Liberto loved it! The top is a little too low for around the house, though. Too much cleavage. Paul kept averting his eyes and saying, "Mom! Don't you want to put something over that?"

When Terry finally dropped me off, Liberto was already home. I'd promised Paul that morning before leaving with Terry that we could go to Wal-Mart together for groceries, and I'd also promised him that we could get Chinese take-out for dinner. So off we drove to Wal-Mart, where, as usual, I saw a few current and former students. One former student was a cashier. He'd been in my class last spring at Groves. Bless his heart, he told me that a lot of the students at Groves "missed" me. Wasn't that sweet? We stopped at the China Wok to get Paul his take-out, after which I had to stop and buy Liberto "something sweet" at Food Lion. When we finally got home and settled in, I ate my leftover Thai lunch, which I'd brought home in a box. I only got a few research papers done yesterday, but that's okay, I had fun and cleared my mind from schoolwork for a while.

On Tuesday afternoon, at the end of the schoolday, the principal and AP were standing in the hall, and both smiled at me, and said, "Dr. Agnew, I hope you have a wonderful Thanksgiving break." To be treated with respect and warmth by my Administration is beyond description. I am truly thankful for that. Of course, I'm very grateful for family, friends, health, job, pets,and much more, but somehow, that moment in the hallway meant the world to me.

One year later....

It was a year ago last Friday, the 21st, that I started this blog. It's like having an in-house therapist. My brother's family always sends a Christmas newsletter of the family's doings for the past year. Well, this year, I'm going to compose one to them for the first time, now that I have a record of events. At this stage, life blurs by, so I can't remember the details of daily life six months or a year after they've happened, only the major occurrences.

Liberto's back is hurting almost all the time, and radiates around to the front. That's where we got the idea that it was a stomach ailment. That's been ruled out. He has another doctor's appointment tomorrow with the primary physician, to start the whole process over again. Spinal problems? Kidney problems? Hernia? Whatever it is, I hope the good doctor can send him to a specialist who can figure out the problem. He also broke a crown in August. I said, "No worries! I just signed on with Bryan County school system's dental insurance plan." (Our family motto: You can't have too much insurance!) But he timed the breaking of his crown just a little too early. The insurance did not begin until Oct. 1.

As we count down the last 17 school days, I have to admit that I am getting crabbier towards the students than I'd like to be. They seem to be getting increasingly restless and looking for diversion, viz a viz spit balls, facial signals across the room, punching someone's arm. Since I work hard trying to find projects that might capture their interest, I feel my crabbiness escalate in direct proportion to their waning interst. Imagine that! A 14-year-old who is more interested in conversing with a friend about make-up than hearing about literary devices! At the beginning of the school year at the faculty meeting, the principal reminded us all that the students "are 14 but think they're 25... you're the adult, so when they do stupid things, be the better person." He's right, but it's harder now than it was in August. Only 17 school days.

I hate to say it, but my dear husband is also crabby a lot these days, probably because of his pain. Understanding as I might be, I dislike being on the receiving end.

Yesterday, we cleaned out the guest room, creating piles for the landfill and for Goodwill. Isn't it horrifying how fast things pile up? You don't throw them away right away because they cost money and you might need them again. But finally you decide "That's it; if we need another one, we'll buy it." We culled much of the unwanted stuff. We drove to the landfill to dispose of it, and because we were in the vicinity, he suggested we stop at Wal-Mart to do the groceries. As we pulled in, the parking lot was so packed that the cars were backed up waiting for spaces. I suggested we skip it and come back later. I despise large crowds. I hate trying to push a buggy along stopping every two feet for bunches of people who are examining goods on shelves. He (crabbily) said we shouldn't waste an extra trip and gas to come back tomorrow! Once inside, it was hideously overcrowded. A few aisles later, his back began to hurt, and for the next hour, as we labored along through the crowds with the buggy, his face was a grimace. After Wal-Mart, we went to Publix because their t-bones are nice and the dog loves to chew the bones after we eat the steak. When we arrived home, P. put away the groceries, as always, L. sat down to relax, and I graded research papers.

I'm having lunch with Terry on Wednesday, which will be a nice outing. School is finished on Tuesday this week, and I have a five-day weekend. I'm ready for a girlfriend lunch, away from the house and the school. She's working on a fantastic book series, written through the point of view of one of her adopted dogs. I have a new creative project which I want to share with her, too.

Now I've got to go on-line and order a new power cord for the Toshiba. L is angry and says that it suddenly went dead when he was using it this afternoon because of the way P. uses the computer. He says P. twists the cord too much. I don't know for sure if that's why it's not working, but I'm more inclined to give P. the benefit of the doubt. Whenever something goes wrong with the computers, L. always concludes it's P's fault.

Starved for some fun reading, I started a new novel yesterday called Gone Tomorrow. I'm just at the scene where the College Provost has called the protagonist (a college professor) into the office to discuss his lack of publications and to ask for his voluntary resignation. But I can't continue because I have a stack of research papers and have to make sure there's a ton of activities ready for class tomorrow. I'm hooked and could finish the whole book this afternoon and evening if I had the time! It's pure torture to have to wait. 17 days...

Monday quick note

The weekend flew by. On Saturday, I went to my hairdresser for color and cut, which took an hour and a half because she usually juggles several clients at the same time, but I enjoy it because I read the trashy, gossipy rags ("BRAD IS CHEATING ON ANGIE WITH THE NANNY!")and am not grading or reading for class. Amazingly, I don't have any gray to cover yet, but I like to have the color goldened up a notch with partial foils of high and low lights. I was happy with the results of both the color and the style. Before and after the appointment, I re-read To Kill a Mockingbird to refresh my memory on it. The rest of the day was spent grading, reading, planning. I'll never catch up with all the work I've given them, but I have to keep them busy every second. That's my classroom management philosophy. But boy, am I counting the days until the end of the semester. After today, 21 school days to be exact.

On Sunday, we were driving home from the usual trip to Wal-Mart but had taken a back road. I spotted an eye-catching tree in a front yard. It was covered with lemons which weren't even half as huge as the lemons on our tree. That's when I got the idea of starting a lemon tree in the front yard. Wouldn't that be pretty when the lemons are ripe?

I spent the rest of Sunday grading and printing. I have my own nice printer at home, and though I don't have to print there, I like to have everything ready when I go in, and not have to count on the school printer, which might have a line. Of course, Paul and I watched Cold Case at 9:30 (pushed up because of a football game, I guess.) Tonight, I'll have to read a pile of student's rough drafts of the research paper, worth 50 points out of the total 300 points.

Our wonderful President-Elect and wife were on Sixty Minutes last night, which I watched with half an eye while grading. I can't remember the interviewer's name, but he jokingly har-harred about how the Obamas would have to get used to their new puppy in the White House at the same time as they'd be getting used to having the Mother-in-Law there. It sounded so old-man-of-the fifties-chauvinistic women-are-bitches humor. But Barack rose a few more notches in my esteem when he replied smoothly, with an unruffled smile, "I'm not going to compare my mother-in-law with a dog" and went on to say how much he appreciated the time and hard work she'd devoted to the family during the campaign. It was a perfect response to deflect the interviewer's attempt to do a mother-in-law joke at the expense of the First Mother-in-Law. I wanted to shout, "YOU GO, Barack!"

My favorite night of the week

The cat's winter coat is unusually thick and glossy, and I wonder if this is the result of his thyroid medicine or a predictor of a cooler-than-usual winter. If animals have strong enough sensory equipment to forecast epileptic seizures half an hour before they happen and sniff out cancer, even in patients in remission, they may certainly also be tuned into atmospheric events.


I'm so glad it's Friday. I'm worn out. I'm ready for Thanksgiving break, Christmas break, next summer's vacation, retirement! Not to complain. With the current economy, I'm grateful every day to have a job, especially a job that I really like. But it's been over three months of non-stop planning, grading, and teaching, so I crave a few days of total immersion in anything BUT student-related stuff.


Liberto still complains of a pain even though the colonoscopy and biopsy showed nothing wrong in his intestines. He finally has two doctor appointments at the end of next week. It's frustrating for him to go through these various tests and turn up nothing and still have the pain. Sometimes it's mild and other times worse, but it's always there. The frustration of navigating through the medical world is painful in itself.


Nothing unusual to report from this past week. Right now, I'm too tired to have any opinion about anything on the news. But one bit of good news is that my retirement account from GSU, though nothing to write home about, at least has not lost 1/3 of its value after all. Summer before last, I had a premonition that the market was headed for a plunge, so I arranged for the Interlock option AIG offered and locked the account in at that amount. This option meant I'd be guaranteed to have no lower than the lock-in amount to draw from when the time comes, and if the market performs, could have more, but no lower than that figure from that date. Since we had a day off on Tuesday, I had the chance to call the new account manager to confirm that what I had signed up for was what I thought I would get---with this rotten economy, I'd had visions that something in the fine print would nullify everything---but surprisingly, the contract still stands. By the way, the AIG representative who did the paperwork for me that summer of 2007, who can't be more than 35 years old, is now retired in Florida, the new rep tells me. Managing retirement accounts for teachers must be a helluva lucrative gig!

Autumn beauty

Last week, driving along the highway, I noticed that the trees had turned. The change always seems to happen suddenly. One day they're green, and the next they've become yellow, burgundy, and burnt orange. Very soft colors, not the flamboyant foliages of my northern childhoods. The temperature has been perfect too; cool in the morning, up to 70 at the peak. The moon is full tonight, and was beginning to glow as I drove home at 5 o'clock. There's no school tomorrow because of Veteran's Day. I will spend most of the day grading.

At the school's Veteran's Day assembly this morning, I thought of Dad, of course. While the school band played patriotic songs, and the school color guard performed, I couldn't help but remember the photos of young, handsome Dad smiling in his Army uniform circa 1945. He was a mere boy, younger than my own youngest son, when he was drafted out of college and shipped over to Italy to fight a world war. The very thought of shipping a son off to a major war is heartwrenching, yet millions of mothers across the world and over the centuries have done just that, including my grandmother who sent two sons off to World War II. How she could bear the fear and uncertainty, I have no idea. She was one of the lucky mothers; they both survived. I remember Dad's stories of how the Italian natives---just as effusive and vivacious as Hispanics are, no doubt---would come running out to greet the American soldiers with shouts of joy and flowers. I also remember Dad's stories about patrolling at night. If I remember this right, some unique tribe of Eastern Indians was working with the Allies. They were extremely tall, wore turbans, and were very violent. Each night, the American solders were informed of a secret password they would need to utter if they ever encountered one of these Indians at night, so the latter wouldn't mistake them for the enemy. The password one night was "Gravel Gertie," recalled Dad. He did indeed cross paths with one of those Indians--wish I could remember the specific name of the tribe. I'll have to research that. Now it was time to say the password before the tall guy pulled out his knife and asked questions later. Dad remembered how his teeth and jaw chattered as he spat out "G-g-g-g-g-ravel G-g-g-gertie!"

After the war, after marrying my mother, he went to medical school on the G.I. bill. He apparently had to be affiliated with the Army for awhile even after finishing at McGill. When I was three, we moved to Tacoma, Washington, and lived on what I think was a military base. I remember a photo of the front door, with the sign "First Lt. Agnew" painted on it. I remember other men in Army uniforms. He must have been affiliated in some medical way, or have been receiving medical experience. Photos show my mother and groups of other mothers sitting on the lawns together with all the children nearby. I even remember the inside of that teeny little house, connected to all the other teeny houses in a giant square, with a courtyard of sorts in the back. I remember riding my tricycle on the sidewalk in the back.

Yep, Dad was with me today during that Assembly.

Moving on to other subjects. . . how about Obama's victory? How happy we are that he won! We're overjoyed! This country needs a fresh leader with guts and VISION who is not afraid to throw off the yoke of tired Republican policies of the past eight years and forge ahead with plans for healing. Today I showed the classes a United Streaming film about the Great Depression, which is the setting for To Kill a Mockingbird. It was chilling to be reminded of the similarities between the Great Depression and the current economic crisis: both events were preceded by prosperity, stock market climbs, a strong housing market, widespread over-spending and over-extension, hands-off government approach to regulation, and support for big business, then BOOM! Stock market crash, job loss, foreclosures, and bank failures and the huge ripple effect that destroyed the economy. When the film described Hoover's laissez faire approach to the economic problems and his idea of bringing about recovery by giving money to businesses, not individuals, it reminded me big-time of Bush and the current Congress. (Yes, of course, let's bail out AIG, whose CEO's get bonuses higher than the total income of Georgia. Here's an idea that's been going around the internet: take the bail-out package, divide it up among the population of America, and send each citizen a check. Someone calculated that it would come to $200,000 each. Now there's a stimulus package!) The film described the election of dynamic FDR, who took charge right away and came up with program after program after program to assuage the pain of the Depression. Obama is the new FDR.
While shopping this weekend, we saw his smiling face, along with Michelle's, on just about every magazine cover on the rack. It fills me with joy.

Casting my ballot

I got back from the polls at 6:10. Chatham County was offering early voting until 5 p.m. at the Eisenhower Tag Office. The line stretched out the door, twisted down the street and around the corner, but I decided to stick it out. On Tuesday, it will be worse. Of course I voted for Obama. I could talk all day about how annoying it is to hear the Republicans latching onto the word "redistribution!" as a scare tactic, and it's even more annoying to think that people take the bait. The weasel word itself is supposed to connote Communism, which our culture is conditioned to recoil from. But hasn't our country always supported redistribution of wealth--it's called taxes? A panelist on Larry King was arguing that the wealthy should be rewarded for their hard work and should not be punished through higher taxes. But wait a minute, last time I looked, I too work like a dog, up at 5:45, home at 5 or 5:30 every night, grading round the clock. Liberto works long hours too. Why is our work less deserving than Donald Trump's? But I shouldn't get started on a vent about how wrong-headed I think the Republican position is. I just hope Obama wins. The economy is spiraling out of control, and if it takes some intervention from the government, so be it. Son number two lost his job very suddenly a few weeks ago. Although we've wired him some survival money, we can't afford to take on his $700 a month apartment lease and other ongoing expenses. He texted me that he hopes to collect unemploymenet benefits in about 3 weeks, but has mostly stayed out of touch.

We went to buy a new car battery last weekend. When the woman said, "That'll be $115" I told her that I could have sworn the other new battery we bought a few months ago for Paul was about $80, and she said, yes, but they'd suddenly gone up, no surprise.

Liberto's colonoscopy last Wednesday revealed nothing, which was very frustrating to him because he continues to have some pain in a certain section. He has another appointment with the doctor on Nov. 20, to see what they'll do next. When I met with the doctor after the procedure, he theorized that maybe it's a back problem and that the pain is radiating around to the front.

I have a head cold, which started Tuesday with lots of sneezing, then a dripping nose Wednesday, and total stuffiness Thursday and Friday, but not sick enough to skip work. I had the day off Wednesday anyway to stay with Liberto. I graded for hours while I waited in the waiting room and got a lot done. The students reported that the sub was very mean and rude and that they hated her! I've met her before and she is a kind of no-nonsense, children-should-be-seen-and-not-heard type of person.

My feet and legs are throbbing after standing all day at work and then standing in line at the polls. It's so nice to be in an easy chair. I'm still very stuffed up, but still enjoyed the Chinese food and little pony of beer for dinner. It's almost 8 o'clock, and no trick-or-treaters yet. Maybe the porch light is off, but I'm too tired to get up and turn it on.

Richmond Hill students

This past week was Homecoming week. Each day was a different theme, such as Superhero Costume Day or School Spirit Day. Naturally, the students were as hyped up as Mexican Jumping Beans. So this was the week to cut them a little slack.
I love to take photos, so I've been taking them regularly since the school year started. In fact, I recently sent a bunch to the school's Yearbook Advisor since 9th graders are usually left out of the yearbook.



Overall, my students are very nice and easy to love. None are mean-spirited; the disruptive ones are seeking attention from peers or haven't learned to contain those intense hormones.



I was telling a friend recently that one very positive characteristic of high school students is that they are almost always smiling or laughing. Look around the classroom, look around an entire high school, and the laughter and squeals of joy fill the air.

Friday downpour

Friday: The week flew by. Liberto got back last Saturday night, right on time. I'd taken all day Saturday off from grading papers---too tired to do it even if I'd wanted to---so I did have to spend some time working on Sunday, but we still managed to hang out and enjoy each other's company. He was back to work on Monday, working long hours and going to several doctors' appointments this week for whatever is ailing his intestines. He seems to have a combination of problems, one of which is the old kidney-stones issue that he's had for over 20 years, added to inflammation of a section of the colon. He has very specific pain in one area. Next Wednesday, he's having another colonoscopy, as a follow-up to an MRI, which didn't show anything. Although you're only supposed to have colonoscopies every 10 years and he's had one in the last five, the pain is cause for further examination. I'll be taking my first day off from school to go with him.

Heavy rain today! I used the beautiful, colorful, frog-themed umbrella from my dear friend Sharon, and was so proud to inflate it to show off to everyone, as I walked into school this morning. It was raining heavily early this morning and still is now. I had to drive Paul's car to work because my car's battery is dead. Another errand to do this weekend, buy a new battery.

My two sets of wind chimes are swinging and ringing like crazy outside, as the rain swirls down, and the wind gusts. I can see the chimes through the window, hanging from a thick branch of the lemon tree. The set that rings the loudest was ordered from my darling grandson in Virginia, who was getting points at school for sales from a website store, and the other was purchased from a neighborhood child, also selling door to door for her school. Even before I bought these chimes, I had already ordered one from the child of a teacher at school, but it hasn't come in yet. Soon, I'll have a third set swinging from the tree branch.

I can already smell the end of the semester in the air. Next week is Halloween, followed soon by Veteran's Day, Thanksgiving break, and the End of Course test for my 9th graders. Then the holiday break, and a new semester.

I'm SO grateful that the principal of the school always smiles and says hello to me. That's a management style which is far more effective than icy stares, in my opinion!

Rosy-fingered dawn

Saturday: In Homer's Odyssey, dawn is usually described as "rosy-fingered." Yesterday morning, the sunrise reached across the gray sky just as the Greeks and Latins described it in their epics, beautifully "rosy-fingered." On my way to work, I drive over a river, and yesterday, the epic sunrise looked spectacular over the water. One of the important joys of being an educator is being educated at all times. I haven't read the Odyssey for years, but teaching it has required me to re-read and re-appreciate it, probably more than the students ever will at this stage. I love the epic descriptions of nature. When I was a high school student taking Latin, I was forced to translate the Aeneid from Latin into English, and to this day, I remember the rosy-fingered dawns described by Virgil. Teaching secondary English has forced me to review material, as well as to learn material, that I didn't need to know during college teaching. High school ELA programs are quite thorough in their requirements, from reading lists to literary terms, so I continue to learn or re-learn.

I got nine weeks' grades in last week and started a new nine weeks. As an ending to the Count of Monte Cristo unit, I showed the 2002 film version, very cheesey and romantic, and not at all like the book. Nevertheless, the students enjoyed it (great substitute for reading the book, I'm sure) and it had some good scenes of Chateau D'If and Marseilles. Its theme of revenge could not help but be thrilling, and what student can resist loving a lot of fight scenes? The truth is, though, that Edmond Dantes, the Count of Monte Cristo, never physically touched his enemies, and ruined them in far more sophisticated ways, such as hitting them where it really hurt, in the pocketbook.

I ordered the long Gerard Depardieu version of the movie through Netflix and started watching it last night. This version hits the spot! It's in French, but if the translation is accurate, is faithful to the text. I managed to watch four hours of it last night and will finish the next few hours of the movie today.

Liberto arrives home tonight at 10 p.m. I truly hope the plane is on time. I always call the airline hotlines before departing for airports because there's nothing worse than hanging out for wasted hours at an airport, with later arrival times appearing on the screens every 15 minutes. But even if I wait for hotline confirmation that the plane has departed Miami, what if that departure time is pushed up till midnight or later? I am not a Night person. I don't do well after 9 p.m.

It's drizzling today. Every morning now, a few fresh lemons appear on the lawn.
I have three full bowls of fresh lemons in the house. We'll have to start taking them to work, to give away to people. The tree has grown so well that one section has arched right into the fish pond reeds, weighed down by the clusters of growing fruit. I hate that we'll probably have to cut some of those branches before the limbs end up in the pond water.

Rain, rain, rain

Sunday: This morning I awoke to the sound of pouring rain. It has rained hard almost all day, save for a few pauses. The leaves on the trees are dripping and waterfalls are splashing off the roof. It's now 8:30 (almost time for me to crawl into bed and grade the last few papers before retiring)and I can still hear it coming down hard outside. I love rainstorms if I'm inside and have nowhere to go.

The day stretched out. I graded nine weeks' exams all day, alternating that with the ongoing battle of the messy house. My day was almost exactly the same yesterday, except that Paul and I went to the gym yesterday afternoon, and I also took Pete for a walk, but other than that, it was the same ole. I was telling Diana today that when Liberto goes to Venezuela during Christmas break, I don't have the same pressures to get papers done, so I can actually turn my mind off from work and have fun on my own around the house, just puttering, doing this and that, so I never feel bored, even when he's away. But during the school year, when I'm under pressure to keep up with the grading, either I can't seem to find the time to do something frivolous, or I can't shut off school-related thoughts long enough to enjoy whatever hobby I should be taking up. Thus, his absence right now has created a sense of boredom. Without his energetic presence to balance the monotony of 85 tests and other less-than-exciting work-related tasks, I feel rather dull and blah today.








I wish I could spend less time on schoolwork; I wish I could just turn off the switch when I get home and forget everything until the next day. I'd like to spend more time writing my blog, or working on another creative project I have, or hanging out with friends more. I guess part of it is I'm just wired to be anxious about work. Even when I was a young thing, I worried, no matter what the job was. Even when I slung hash in Maine during the homestead days, I was nervous about doing it well, never mind for other more important employment gigs over the years. I admire people who are naturally placid and unruffled, who never worry and in fact always assume that the workplace is lucky to have them! Yes, I've seen that type before!


Gus and Pete snuggled up for a nap today. That rainy weather just makes a dog and a cat feel sleepy, doesn't it?

Glad it's Friday

Friday: It was noticeably darker this morning as I drove to work. I gave the third and last nine week's exam today, and now have a stack of them to grade. Ah, it's Friday. I love Friday evenings and the prospect of a grading-free evening.

I'm sick about the stock market crash(es). I'm sick about how much of my IRA from the years at Georgia Southern has disappeared. L and I worked hard during those years and had our priorities straight when we decided to contribute a decent monthly amount to that retirement account so that I would have a glimmer of hope to be able to retire some day. When I left GSU, I just let the account sit since I'm in the state Teacher's Retirement System. Our goal now is for me to achieve 10 years in TRS---I'm now in year five---and use the GSU account to supplement the measly pension from TRS or even buy a few more years from TRS. Even with the best case scenarios for retirement income, I sure as heck won't be living high on hog. Perhaps this is time of life when aging baby boomers should come together and start farmsteads, homesteads, and communes, and live cooperatively and economically with each other's help. We ex-hippies had it all wrong. We should have kept our noses to the grindstone during our younger years and gone back to the land in our sixties. But nah, I think we're too tired and creaky now to be chopping wood and harvesting crops.
I know I'm too crabby and independent to want to share my space, my routine, or tomato crops with anyone but family.

Yesterday, the first fight occurred at Richmond Hill High School. Remember at Groves, there was one about once per day? Until yesterday, there had not been one at RHHS. But the spell has been broken. At 3:00, as school let out, a violent fight erupted at one of the entrances to the school. I didn't see or hear it because I was in my classroom, but the three children of the teacher with whom I share the classroom came running into the room, all excited and breathless, reporting that THEY HAD SEEN THE FIGHT! Their mother was out of the room, so they had to tell me everything. "One guy was on the ground and the others were STOMPING ON HIM!!" A teacher got hit during the chaos.

This morning, my first block students were talking about THE FIGHT non-stop until the first bell rang. After all, it's not the norm for them, as it was at Groves. Then, for the first time since school began, the Principal himself came on the intercom to speak to all teachers and students. After his reminder that he will NOT tolerate any nonsense and WILL permanently expel students who misbehave physically, he said that the fight yesterday was vicious, violent, and was gang-related. A few gang members who were not students at our school, walked right through the door and jumped a RHHS student (he was the one on the ground). The principal assured everyone that the jumpers were now in jail. He told the students that he was aware that there is a growing element of "gang wannabes" at the school, and he said, to the effect, "Students, don't be stupid. If you're a gang wannabe, the real gang members are going to come after you. Plus, we're going to expel you." After his announcement, one of my students confided that "Brandon," a student in that very class, had been part of the fight. He was absent this morning. I don't know for sure if he was the one jumped, but he certainly fits the stereotype of a gang type. To be honest, if he did not return to the school, I would not be sorry. He swaggers in every morning with an attitude---I'm the man!---and proceeds to disrupt, show off, not work, and basically do the posturing thing. I think the school administration is serious about culling the deadbeats. The bad boy of my third block class has been expelled from the school, and the freon-sniffer is in ISS almost full-time, where he can sleep contentedly. One of the special students from my fourth block class has been expelled, to my surprise. Apparently, his mistake was to be naive. On the way to school one day, he found a bong (so he claims)and brought it to school to impress the cooler kids. The administration was not amused, and expelled him.