I've just gotten over some kind of cold---Saturday night was the first night in a week that I was able to sleep well without coughing myself awake. It wasn't bad enough to stay home from work (plus I'm fantasizing that they'll give me a Perfect Attendance check, as they did last year). To look at me last week, you wouldn't have known I was under the weather until I spoke, revealing a cracked, raspy voice. I had a very stuffed nose but not at all runny; a scratchy, sore throat, sore eyes and a cough. Maybe it was allergies---and I don't even have them. This year was supposed to have been one of the worst allergy years in history, so maybe I've acquired them. Wow, my throat was so sore I couldn't swallow. But today, I feel 100% all better. Darn. Does that mean I have to stop taking that lovely Robitussen that carries one off to dreamland on a cloud of whatever narcotic is in it?

Last Monday, before the cold broke out in earnest, I had a very pleasant interview with the Chair at Armstrong, during which I waxed enthusiastic about peer review, the process approach, interesting assignments, and so on. They don't have the final budget figures yet, but when the numbers come in in July, he needs to see how many of their full time staff will lose their jobs before he knows how many part-time spots there will be to fill.

Liberto found an ad for a non-teaching job that he is positive has my name written ALL over it. I love the way he thinks I'm so capable of so much and says that I constantly underestimate myself. Thus, on Saturday, I re-worked my vita towards this particular job description and created a spot-on cover letter. However, doing this occupied several hours. You can't just shoot off the same generic vita and letter for every position. This gave me a preview of what's in my future. . .

On Sunday, we had a fish pond emergency. Three of them were swimming sideways and looking sick. The pump wasn't working, so we rushed to Home Depot and bought a new and much better waterfall type of pump. I admire people who can put things together in the blink of an eye. Liberto is one of those. He had the new waterfall cascading down the rocks and aerating the pond with white caps in the time it would have taken me to open the box. As of this morning, two of the three sick ones had made a full recovery, but the third one didn't make it. Liberto offered to get me two new koi, to replace the white one who died and this latest one, but I always worry about bringing outside diseases into the pond, which is always a risk when adding new fish.

13 more class days. We're doing Romeo and Juliet.

The Department Chair at school wants to give a farewell luncheon for me and for Jennifer, who was also cut, on the one teacher post-planning day, May 24. Soon after that, I may go ahead and have a hysterectomy, which is somewhat needed right now, but will probably be needed more urgently in forthcoming years. We're afraid if I wait until a merely uncomfortable situation gets worse, I'll be without my own health insurance, and Liberto's will only pay 80%. I've already talked to my doctor about it for the past few years during regular visits.

A Death and a Re-birth

Matt died a week ago Friday. The guidance counselor waited until after school to page the three faculty who had been his homebound teachers and relay the news. I was weepy all weekend. Every time I thought about him, I could see him sitting at the table beside me writing, reading, discussing the literature. I spent five months with him in a one-on-one capacity and had grown very fond of him, so his death was a blow. I hadn't known until the guidance counselor told us last Friday that he was already at stage 4 when he was first diagnosed last July. I went to his funeral on Wednesday. On Thursday, the chair of the English Department requested the names of high-performing students for the annual Honors Awards, so I nominated Matt for a posthumous Awards Certificate to be sent to his parents.

The other transformative event this week----but I assure you, in a good way---was that I was formally told I would not be renewed next year due to budget cuts. The other teacher who got cut, the one I shared a classroom with last year, was crying all over the place and had to leave work for the rest of the day because she was so upset, but I could hardly suppress my joy. Yes, I was too much of a coward to resign on my own when I submitted my intention forms. For Liberto, bless his heart, there's not enough money in the universe to stave off the many possible catastrophes in life that require cash, so he wanted me to stay on as long as I could. But when the decision to leave was made for me, I felt like a caged seagull just released to soar into the blue sky over the ocean. Auspiciously, the very next day, I was contacted by the Chair of English Department at Armstrong, who wanted to know my availability for teaching next fall. I emailed back and told him that my availability had just become more flexible than ever, and he invited me for an interview on Monday. I'm sure they'll be offering part-time work, but that's okay!I won't earn the kind of money I made at the high school, but I also most likely won't have to break up fights in the classroom such as I did last week when one boy jumped another one and was seriously choking him. I had to intervene and whack the guy with a folder repeatedly and scream, to get him to stop. Old ladies like me should not be involved in brawls with teenage boys.

In high school, the standard of success for a teacher is control. How well do you control your classes? Do the students stay engaged at all times? Are they following the dress code, staying in their seats, refraining from eating or drinking? I just don't have a forceful enough or dominant enough personality to be the kind of teacher that school systems want now. Maybe that's because I don't see education as a matter of controlling. I once attended a workshop in which a Nazi type demonstrated for a group of teachers how a class "should" be run. From the point of view of the "student", I found it overbearing and obnoxious. I'd barely completed or absorbed her first 10-minute task, when she was all over us saying, "Okay! Chop, chop! Move on! Right now!" and segued into another. Lickety split! Not a second to waste! I hated it.

I have another philosophical difference. In my 11th grade class, we read literature of the Puritan period and discussed the Puritanical concept that any activity considered fun would automatically be considered a sin. In The Crucible, for instance, the bewitched girls had been out dancing! I've found this to be true with school system policies. I found a cool song assignment on the web that involved comparing modern song lyrics to romantic poetry of the 19th century. When students presented their lyrics, they wanted to play the songs with their ipods for everyone to hear, which would be a natural complement to a presentation on lyrics. But I found myself cringing, thinking, "Oh, no! What if an administrator walked in, and caught us playing music or using ipods! That would be a sin equivalent to the dancing in The Crucible.. Maybe I'll be accused of witchcraft, or at the very least, breaking the school rules."

I've run myself ragged creating endless assignments that I've hoped would interest the students enough to keep them engaged and controlled and quiet for 90 minutes every day. Doing this has been like feeding a gigantic hungry monster one teaspoon at a time. As soon as the first teaspoon is swallowed, he's already hungry again, and if he doesn't get fed right away, he's going to start thrashing and growling and creating havoc. Loss of salary or not, I'm ready for it to end. I've lasted twice as long as people half my age. Remember, about half of new teachers leave the profession in the first three years.

While Jennifer sobbed, I walked around with a S***-eating smile for the rest of the day.

Between my on-line grading gigs (right now I'm grading the Virginia 8th grade writing test; next week it's the SAT's), some courses at Armstrong, and whatever else I can scare up, I think we'll survive. With our house refinanced at a phenomenal 4.25%, the new mortgage is a lot less than the previous one.

In any event, come what may, I see it as a re-birth. I shouldn't be this happy about it, but I can't help myself.

Matt

Heartbreaking news about Matt today. The guidance counselor emailed me yesterday that she had an update on his condition and wanted to see me; however, I had to rush off the minute school ended to attend the closing for our refinancing. So I went to see her today during my planning period. I was actually expecting her to give me good news, optimistic fool that I am. Instead she said that recent tests showed that his cancer has matastacized to his lungs and the doctor doesn't think he'll live more than a few more days. He's in the hospital now. I burst out in tears. My heart has felt like lead ever since.

When I first started his homebound schooling last fall, he looked and acted perfectly heathy. I knew he'd been diagnosed with some aggressive form of cancer a week before school started, but he looked like any other 14-year-old boy. As the weeks passed, his hair fell out, but he still looked very well, to me, and was energetic enough to do more work than most of the lazy students who inhabit my classes, and to do it well. In January, I felt he had done enough to be considered certified in 9th Grade Comp/Lit because I knew he was about to be schooled in math and science too, so I finished up our work. From time to time, I've asked the math teacher about him when I'd pass him in the hall. About a week ago, he said Matt had gone to the hospital because of fluid in the lungs that needed to be drained. But he didn't act as though it was anything life-threatening. During the time I homeschooled him, he had to spend occasional nights in the hospital.

Then the bad news this morning. Apparently, the math teacher had found out yesterday and was equally devastated. Things like this help create perspective.

Guest in a college class

Yesterday, I had fun speaking to a college class about Back from the Land and the principles underlying environmental conservation. Months ago, the Dean of Liberal Arts, who teaches Environmental Technology, noticed the book listed on my vita, and called requesting a guest appearance. I had forgotten what it's like to speak in front of a group who listens attentively! With interest! No hoots, whoops, fart-sounds or shouts across the room, such as I experience every day in the classroom. The class lasted 50 minutes, which is just the right amount of time. What moment of insanity ever caused the secondary school system to decide that 90-minute classes are in the best interest of squirmy 14-year-olds who have the attention span of 8-year-olds? Of course, when the Dean and I conversed privately before class, he talked about the growing problems at the college level, which include salary cuts, heavier workloads, higher expectations, more furloughs for professors, possible lay-offs for tenured professors, larger classes, and cut programs. He sighed heavily, indicating that the grass may not be much greener over there.

Another professor who joined the class shared that she lives by conservation principles and rides her bike 14 miles to campus every day to save the environment from fuel emissions and car expenses, uses a clothes line instead of a dryer, and has no internet at home. While that's admirable, at least the car part because I cannot see any reason on earth for not having internet, the problem is that there are virtually no bike paths for travel within Savannah. Bike riding is dangerous! I wouldn't do it around here for all the tea in China. I agree that we use cars too much in this country, but what is the alternative? The majority of people live too far away from work to bike there, even if it happened to be safe. Around here, we have very few options in public transportation, within the city or between cities. Obama has proposed high-speed rail systems between major cities in Georgia, Florida and South Carolina, and that would be awesome. I would go to Atlanta every weekend if I could hop on a train and read, while shuttled at Warp Factor 8 to the big city.

It's all about principles versus time. I don't want to spend hours every day hauling water to pour into a wringer washer, doing the wash, wringing the wash, hanging the wash, carrying the freeze-dried clothing back inside to stand around the house like frozen headless humans. This may have been environmentally friendly when I did it in Maine, but it took large chunks of my days and the clothes never got very clean anyway. It's so much more efficient for Maytag to do the job for me, so that I can move along on my continued climb up the Maslow scale. I know that we're destroying the earth, and I'm no longer doing my part to save it, but I don't know what I can do to overturn the direction the human race has taken.

The week has gone by too fast. I've been doing nit-picking busywork to prepare for our house refinancing closing next week, such as faxing an authorization letter to the current mortgage holder allowing them to release the pay-off amount to the lawyers, waiting on hold while helpful associates ask security questions; you know, the little tasks that can take big chunks of time. I've been grading research papers, and am appalled at how horrible they are (a reflection on me, as a teacher?) and have vowed never again to use this particular topic. I should have used the I-search topic, so students would have more interest and some type of voice, as well as keep plagiarism to a minimum. I've had to read ahead for my classes too. I also brought home all the students' notebooks, which I grade every few weeks to see if they're doing the classwork.

Last night's Idol news was shocking. But as Simon always says to contestants, "If I had seen you for the first time tonight, and knew no history, I wouldn't be impressed." Part of my admiration for Big Mike has been based on accumulation. Maybe if I'd only heard his rendition of Eleanor Rigby Tuesday night, in isolation, with no backstory, I wouldn't be as excited about him. They're all highly talented people, but what makes a voter like one more than another? It's more than just vocals. While I like Lee because he's a dynamite singer, I also like Tim because while his voice isn't perfect, he is appealing in his awkward, likeable way. Isn't that what draws us to any celebrity; their personality (real or imagined)? And yes, old Granny here still likes David Archuleto, who appeared last night. I had no idea he played piano. Did he do that at all last season? I've forgotten. David Cook was also hot last week, as Randy would say.

Spring break

Spring break was launched Friday with another teacher furlough day. Fine with me! I woke up at 6:45, a whole hour and a half later than I normally arise. Liberto doesn't need an alarm clock, so I don't set it on nights before I don't have to work. He is always already awake when I wake up naturally. I had coffee with him, and after he left for work, I hosed down Shawn's pollen-covered car in the driveway, then went to the backyard, added water to the koi pond, and watered the new flowers I planted to spruce up the house before the appraiser came a few weeks ago. The backyard is blooming. Both the apple and the lemon tree have blossomed, along with the azaleas, and a patch of jasmine that I planted, but which Paul accidentally mowed over, has made a full comeback, and is now climbing across the fence, with the heavenly-smelling yellow flowers opening. The birds are in full chorus.

I spent the morning puttering, but forced myself to grade the 11th graders' unit test from last week. The day involved a lot of mundane tasks, but I felt overjoyed being at home. As usual, I began to get tired on cue at 9:00, and crawled into bed at 9:30. This morning, I slept till 8:30. Liberto, Paul, and I went to the gym for our workouts, then on to the mall, where we bought a few articles of clothing. The day just flowed along sweetly. I read a book by the pond, entered a few grades in PowerTeacher, and took a walk with Paul. The days feel longer when I'm home, but in a good way.

Somehow, it is already March 23, and the 11th graders are taking the high school graduation tests this week, which means that we've turned the corner onto the last stretch. I'm so tired.

This past weekend, I needed an escape, so Paul and I watched the entire first and second season of Breaking Bad on dvd, and loved every second of it. We watched all day Saturday and Sunday, and finished in time for the premiere of the third season Sunday night. For anyone unfamiliar with the show, it's about a high school chemistry teacher, diagnosed with lung cancer, who teams up with a former meth-head student to sell the best meth in town. Because he's dying and earns $43,000a year as a teacher, he wants to leave money for his pregnant wife and teenage son. What quicker way than selling drugs, especially for a chemist who knows how to brew the highest quality meth in the tri-state region? The show is fascinating because we see the tension of this good-guy character hiding his alter ego as drug lord from his family, friends, and colleagues, even while angry dealers and underworld creeps threaten to seep through the cracks into his regular straight life. There's also the vicarious thrill of seeing him stack those lovely-looking blocks of hundred dollar bills into the wall, under the insulation. Every drug sale yields hundreds of thousands of dollars. The show also brings the viewer into the world of drug dealing, which is much more interesting and complex than a Law and Order episode would have us believe. Thus, I escaped from my never-ending school work for the weekend, and then paid the price Sunday evening when I wasn't very prepared for Monday.

The weather has turned nice. The Japanese pear trees in the neighborhood are in full bloom. Birds have built a nest in the hose wheel just outside the bedroom window. We won't be able to use the hose for a while! A few weeks ago, Liberto got rid of the patio furniture because it was old and a little rusted. I'm on the look-out for a new set because the weather is nice enough to sit out there for morning coffee and newspaper. It's my sanctuary out there, in front of the koi pond. We actually bought a new set at Home Depot, and then had to return it immediately when we discovered we couldn't fit the table in the car. I've been looking for one on-line from any store that will deliver.

Mostly, I've spent the last few weeks trying to survive to the finish line of summer vacation, though I'll settle for spring break week after next. I'm worn out from the 5:15 alarm and the daily expenditure of all my energy in the classroom. The weekends feel like a race against time, and they are: get the groceries, wash and iron the clothes, do the errands, AND prepare a week's worth of activities that will fill up seven hours per class. I was chatting on the phone with Phyllis a few days ago, and she, too, is tired. Even at the university level, the workload is increasing and the expectations growing, while the salaries decrease. She said her dream is to have a job that does not require after-hours work, a job you come home from and forget about until the next day. Wow, that sounds delightful.

One of the married teachers at my school was abruptly fired last week for having an affair with one of the students---another teacher who seized the guy's cellphone found the text messages between the two, and the whole thing blew up. Her husband, another teacher at the school, may be quitting because he's embarrassed about it all. Supposedly, he's filed for divorce. Gasp, a scandal!

Shawn texted me about a week ago saying he received his orders to be stationed at Ft. Campbell, KY, beginning in about two months. From there, he could be deployed overseas.

I loved the picture of the Hawaii koi on Sharon's blog. Liberto has joked that we could sell our koi as a source of income if need be, but I couldn't. They're my dear pets and they're one of the props in my little escape world out back. Derek called and said they're going to Cozumel at the end of May, and invited us to come along, so I eagerly looked up prices and dates. I would love to go again! If Liberto's mouth tightens, maybe I'll just go myself!

Dear Ann Landers' Famous Question

Ann Landers always used to ask "Are you better off with him or without him?" No, I'm not asking myself if I'm "better off with or without" Liberto, Heavens no. He's a keeper. That famous question was Ann Lander's tool for helping undecided, unhappy wives determine whether to go ahead and divorce their guy, or stick it out with him. Exploring the question "Are you better off with him or without him?" caused wives to examine the bigger picture, rather than become apoplectic over his annoying little habits and file for divorce immediately. Today, I'm asking myself whether I'm better off with or without my current job.

All employees were told to submit a statement of intent by Wednesday, declaring whether they want to return next year. This is not related to whether they will actually be offered contracts. The administration merely wants to tally up the remaining pool of faculty from which they can select the lay-offs. I've been asking myself whether or not to submit an intention of staying, knowing full well that I might be going anyway when the budget cuts come in. I have a lot of questions to ask myself: from a professional point of view, with an eye towards future jobs, is it better to quit before I'm canned, or is it better to "intend to return" and then be canned? Will I seem more pathetic if I "intend to stay" and then they don't want to keep me, like some myopic high school girl who clings needily to her cold boyfriend until the day he dumps her in front of everyone in the school lunchroom (I've seen it happen). In other words, will I seem more dignified if I break up first? On the other hand, do I have the guts to reject the chance to keep a less-than-perfect but high-paying gig in the twilight of my working years? I'm sure there are millions of unemployed people who would jump at the chance to have my job. Surely, I should at least make the overture of interest now.

And then there's the unthinkable---what if by some bizarre twist of irony, they do decide to offer me a contract in May. Do I want it?
Am I better off without or without this job, if the choice is mine? The visceral and the logical butt heads.

I've got to admit, it's been wonderful not worrying too much about money for the past few years. Not that we're going on any European vacations at the moment, but the basics are easily met with a lot of breathing room, and I'm so grateful, especially when I hear stories on the news of people struggling. So the plan is that I'll probably submit an Intention to stay, and see what happens next. That is, if a student doesn't talk back to me between now and Wednesday, which might change everything.