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.