Saturday night fishing at Tybee

Although I used these photos on Facebook, I'm also displaying them here. I went to the beach with the boys on Saturday evening. Liberto snagged many fish, but they all got away before he could reel them in. Bite by bite, they ate his bait until he had none left on the hook. They were jumping in the air right in front of us, but none of sufficient size could be caught. I guess they've had a lot of practice eluding fisherpeople in those shallow waters. He did catch two baby fish, as seen in the photo above, which he threw back.

Crazy days

On Tuesday, the roller coaster ride began. The administration decided to mandate some new room re-assignments, the goal of which was to get the math and science teachers on the same hallway and to give individual rooms to teachers who'd been there the longest.

At the end of the school year last spring, you may recall, I was reassigned from my original room to another room. I have the sneaking suspicion that J., the teacher who shared my room, and who has OCD and some other issues with mood swings, did not want to share the room with me for whatever reason, and complained secretly to the AP, who arranged the move---although the AP claimed it had to do with scheduling. So many teachers are floaters that it's quite a juggling act to schedule classes and have rooms available when so many are shared by two teachers. I moved out of my original room with J., and a young teacher named E. moved in.

On the first teacher pre-planning day, I was just settling into the new room, to which I'd hauled books and papers for three days at the end of the school year, when the AP came in and told the teacher I now shared the room with, K., that she was being re-assigned to one of the new portables outside the main building so that she could have her own room. I could tell that K., who has worked there longer than I, was not too happy. She walked out to the portable, returned, and reported that it was small and dirty and ugly. Meanwhile, the AP had moved a science teacher to one of the portables and re-assigned J., my former "room mate" to the science teacher's room. J. was angry to have been moved rather than sharing the room with E. But then the science teacher, after moving to the portable and standing in it for five minutes, pitched a fit, saying it hurt her allergies or migraines or something. So the AP decided to move her back to the original room, take J. out, and move her to the room where I now was, as K. was being sent to the portable. But K. got mad at being moved, and she had been there longer, so in the end, the AP decided to move me to one side of the new portable, and J. to the other side.

I was filled with trepidation after hearing K's description of the portable classroom. But when I walked over to inspect it, it didn't look bad at all. Either the cleaning crew got to it first or K. was exaggerating. It's new and fresh and fairly large. Fortunately, J. and I have two individual classrooms with separate doors and separate stairsteps leading to our rooms. There are even two restrooms in the middle corridor which separates the two classrooms. My very own restroom!





















The room is so new, in fact, that it hasn't been wired for internet. They say it will be taken care of soon, but it makes me beyond insane not to have instant access. The room does not have a built-in LCD projector yet either, although it's in the works. But I dusted off my own personal LCD which I purchased a few years ago when I worked at Groves, which offered zero equipment, and set it up, so I can show visuals and powerpoints.

Physically, moving everything into the new classroom was horrible. Although I had a lot of help from students and male faculty who could hoist heavy things onto their shoulders, I was dripping rivers of sweat after walking back and forth in the hot sun carrying my books and files from the main building to the portable. When my naturally wavy hair gets wet or sweaty, it curls wildly in weird directions. By the end of the day, I looked barbaric.

In addition, my schedule was suddenly altered. I now have Planning during first block. I'd originally been assigned 3rd block planning, which I think is the best because it overlaps lunch and you're free to eat whenever you want. On the other hand, if you have a third block class instead of Planning, you have to interrupt class to send students for lunch and get them re-focused after they've been gone for half an hour.

For a few days this week, I felt very unsettled by the new room and new schedule---who moved my cheese?---but once I got the furniture and desks into the classroom, I thought it looked just fine. Today, I began to see the advantages of having my own room, as opposed to sharing. I don't have to float to another classroom carrying a basket full of papers, all the while knowing that I'll inevitably have forgotten something back in my own room. Now I have all three classes in the same room, so I can always access my own things. I can also write something on the board and know it will stay there because another teacher won't erase it for her class.

In addition, I began to see the advantages of first block planning. It removes some of the early morning pressure inherent in rushing to get there, signing in, getting the room set up and the papers out, and being prepared for a mob of students who need to be "engaged" from bell to bell.

My mood swung from one end of the pendulumn to the other, and by today, I was happy with the new room and the schedule. Am I happy that J., a known freon addict, is in my class for the second time? That's another story for next time.

Heebie-jeebies

Yes, I've got a little bit of the h.j.'s about starting the new school year next week. First, there's the change in routine. Now I'll have to arise in the near-dark again at 5:30. No more late night movies or watching "Property Virgins" at 11:30p.m. No more interesting dreams about people, places, and things in the universe outside the classroom; now my sleeping mind will be flooded with dreams about classrooms, hand-outs, and broken copy machines. Then there's the change from the leisurely summer pace back to the rush-rush. In addition, the larger issues loom before me: what will my new students be like? Will there be any hyperactive, show-stealing, posturing kids whose mission is to stir up drama and draw attention from the other classmates? I took a peek at the class lists on PowerTeacher and my jaw dropped when I saw the name of a guy I've already had twice before! He's an 11th or 12th grader now, about 19 years old. I think his unwillingness to do the work is a cover for some reading disabilities.

I'm also nervous about teaching "Basic Reading" for the first time. The chair asked me to teach one section of it so she wouldn't have to do three sections herself, which is understandable. She warned me that these 9th graders are harder to control that the regular ones. They can't/won't/don't like to read, so they disrupt instead.

I'm nervous about re-joining the society of teachers that I work with. Most of them are in a quite different stage of life than I am, preoccupied with babies, diets, and nights out with the girls. Been there, done that. Tired of it. I'm more into my family, my husband-as-my-best friend, the wonderful company of my sons, the pleasure of long-term friends, the joys of being at home with a good book or movie on a Friday night. I get along with most of the other teachers, in a surface sort of way, but have little desire to see any of them outside of the school day. I recently went to a gathering of the female teachers from my former school, Groves, and feel much more in tune with those women. They are more mature. Many have grandchildren!


Oh, to add to my anxiety list, on Thursday, I broke a permanent bridge, and have an appointment to see the dentist tomorrow. Although Liberto and I have not one but two dental insurances and a flexible spending account for medical and dental, I'm terrified that it will cost a fortune. Dental work ain't cheap, and I've got a mind to write to Obama to point out that something should be done about dental health for our nation, as well as medical. Even good dental insurance has a $1,000 a year cap. That's good for about two x-rays and a cleaning. One of the reasons Shawn is joining the Army is that they'll take care of his medical needs and his teeth. Not having had money or insurance for a long time, he needs thousands of dollars worth of dental work. Even if he had a dental plan right now, the $1,000 a year cap would prevent any real improvement.

The other possibility tomorrow is that the dentist can just re-cement it in as it is and send me on my way. I have it shoved into place for the time being with some poli-grip and I try to chew on the other side.

Shawn now has a reservation for the helicopter repair division of the military. He is leaving tomorrow for an initiation at Ft. Jackson, which will last two days. They show the recruits around, give them a physical, and put them in the "hot seat" for questioning. If he passes all that, he can officially sign up for the six-year stint, and he will begin four-month basic training on Sept. 23, at either a base in Virginia or Mississippi. Maybe that's another reason for my heebie-jeebies; there's about to be a huge change in his life. Ours too.

I'm nervous about Pete too. So far, he hasn't suffered at all, but he's getting thinner and isn't eating as much as he used to. I worry about him.

Paul and I went to the gym today, and I felt a little bit more centered after a good work out. One thing I did get out of that Covey training last June was to write down my Quadrant II activities on my calendar, as an appointment. Once it's written down, it seems more like an official directive, so I go and do it. For some reason, that has worked. For the past three weeks, I've been going to the gym three times a week and have stuck to it. Next week, I have it written down for Tuesday and Thursday, after school. That will be the real test, to see if I keep going and not let it slide because of other "more important" things. One of the teachers at my school works out at 4:30 a.m. every day, so she can come to school invigorated. If I can drop in for half an hour at 4 PM twice a week, I'll be doing well.

And how they fought!

The minute Shawn learned how to crawl, he crawled rapidly across the living room floor to Derek, who was two and a half, and punched him. I remember this vividly because it seemed incredulous that a baby would initiate a battle and that a two-year-old would respond with such fervor. From that moment on, they fought and fought and fought. They couldn't keep away from each other, as though the urge to wrestle, box, gouge, and roll around on the floor was some deep-seated craving. They'd even punch each other through the openings of the little stretch gate I set up in the doorway between the kitchen and living room to try to keep them separated. As they grew older, the full-time wrestling continued.

In the first photo above, I got them to sit together for what I hoped would be a photo I could send out with the Christmas cards that year. Derek was about nine and Shawn about seven. I was ready to click the camera and WHAM! They couldn't sit next to each other without throwing a punch. I'm not sure if I sent that photo out anyway.
Hah! I recall that in the 1970's, some New Agey experts believed that boys and girls were merely socialized to be different. Girls played with dolls and boys played with guns because they were acquiring a learned role, according to experts. If that were true, I'd like to know how two babies under two-and-a- half years of age "learned" to love fighting and roughhousing as much as those two did.

Happy 23rd, Paul

Though our doggie Pete is elderly now, he was able to work up some excitement about the birthday cake. Shawn told Paul he had to stand at least six feet back and blow the candles out from there since he only had two (a 2 and a 3 candle). He was able to do it.

Last night, it stormed heavily. I read in the newspaper this morning that thousands of people in the Savannah area lost their power last night. I'm relieved that we didn't.

Just before I awoke this morning, I had an interesting dream about a chihuahua which sat on my bed. As soon as the lights were turned off, it began to glow in the dark with beautiful opaque colors similar to the vivid shades on tropical hummingbirds: greens, blues, reds and yellows. Its glow reminded me of light shining through a stained glass window. Now, where can I find one of these and start breeding a brand new strain of dogs that everyone will want!

Cousins

As I digitalize the family photos, I feel inspired to write about some of them. Above is a photo of Paul and my sister Diana's son, David, taken in 2004. They're only six months apart in age, born in the same year. Dave, who graduated from UC Santa Cruz a few months ago, wants to go to law school soon. He's extremely bright, but also very fun and cool, the kind of kid that would be voted Most Popular in high school. Paul, as we know, would not win such a contest, but he is happy with who is he and what he's doing, and that's what's important. Dave looks like my brother Paul did in his youth, with the curly red hair and pink complexion. Dave also has a generous heart. Unlike some cool kids who would not deign to hang out with
shy loners, Dave went out of his way to be nice to Paul and make him feel welcome.

Memories of Prince Edward Island at sunset

Sunday evening. It just started thundering. We've had a relaxed weekend. Yesterday, Liberto actually volunteered to go to the pool with us. I've been nagging him for the longest time to come along, telling him the buoyancy will be good for his spine, but he always says no because the horseflies seem to crave Hispanic blood much more than Anglo. I've also been trying to get Shawn to go, but have not succeeded so far. So Liberto, Paul and I went for a bath-water-warm swim in late afternoon. The horseflies still love Liberto, but whenever they moved in, he dove underwater.

Coincidentally, I've been working on the same project Sharon has undertaken (great minds think alike!)getting the family photos scanned. My photos take up 95% of our closet. I've always been a photography buff, ever since I requested and received a Brownie camera for a childhood birthday present. If I can digitalize 50 years' of photos, I'll have much more room in the closet.

The photos above are from a wonderful trip Paul and I took with my cousins Jean and Ruth in the summer of 2004. The four of us drove from Toronto to Nova Scotia to Prince Edward Island and back to Toronto. Among many other things, I visted my mother's hometown, Mulgrave, Nova Scotia for the first time, and saw her childhood house! Those photos will be shown in another entry.

One evening on Prince Edward, we visited a lighthouse. The glassy sea sat placidly at low tide, exposing a huge, dark beach of rocks, pebbles, seaweed, and tidal pools. Paul and I walked a long way out to the water's edge. I was so intrigued by the red-brown colors of the rocks and pebbles that filled the beach. I thought the tide might be coming in, but the water was so still, it was difficult to tell. I focused for awhile on a certain red rock in front of me, and sure enough, I could see the tiny channels of water flow slowly and quietly around its sides, and gently over the top of it. We knew it was time to walk back. That beach was beautiful.
PEI, the setting of Anne of Green Gables, provided author L.M. Montgomery with inspiration for her long passages describing the island's natural beauty.