...spending eternity reading the introductions/first chapters of vonnegut novels with always another to follow.
after finishing each one, the next page is simply another folksy, elegant, funny, and morose mediation on everything all at once.
you'll have to excuse me, i'm busy falling in love with an old friend.
kurt, it had been far too long.
Wednesday, December 27, 2006
merry christmas to me
the 8 year old in me has never been happier than he is at this moment.
transformers the movie!
that trailer is one of the most unassailably cool things i have ever seen.
optimus prime, bitches!
transformers the movie!
that trailer is one of the most unassailably cool things i have ever seen.
optimus prime, bitches!
mindfulness
about a week ago, i was talking with a friend over dinner and the concept of mindfulness came up. the discussion grew out of a previous conversation about the difficulties of western (specifically american) buddhism from a metacultural perspective, and also how she had eaten a lot of food that still had a head during time spent abroad.
i've been sort of fixated on the idea of being, broadly, more mindful. not necessarily with food, although taking stock of the externalities of my chicken nachos isn't a bad thing, but with experience in general. i'm nowhere near turning to the bodhisattva trip, and my disbelieving ass is unlikely to start embracing some new level of spirituality, but the concept is something to consider.
so, after having spent saturday through today being largely indolent and gluttonous, celebrating my separation from work and students, i've come to a realization that is pretty cool:
i miss the kids.
i spend more time with a group of 15-17 year olds than i do with anyone else in my life, and i'm beginning to appreciate the ways in which that is changing me for the better. i want to be good at this job because they need me to be. factor into that calculus of connection the extent to which i dig the kids as people (there really isn't a single student who i dislike, regardless of how annoyed i might be by her/him), and i'm starting to get a different handle on the "why" of this gig.
all told, my job is pretty fucking cool. i'll keep it in mind.
i've been sort of fixated on the idea of being, broadly, more mindful. not necessarily with food, although taking stock of the externalities of my chicken nachos isn't a bad thing, but with experience in general. i'm nowhere near turning to the bodhisattva trip, and my disbelieving ass is unlikely to start embracing some new level of spirituality, but the concept is something to consider.
so, after having spent saturday through today being largely indolent and gluttonous, celebrating my separation from work and students, i've come to a realization that is pretty cool:
i miss the kids.
i spend more time with a group of 15-17 year olds than i do with anyone else in my life, and i'm beginning to appreciate the ways in which that is changing me for the better. i want to be good at this job because they need me to be. factor into that calculus of connection the extent to which i dig the kids as people (there really isn't a single student who i dislike, regardless of how annoyed i might be by her/him), and i'm starting to get a different handle on the "why" of this gig.
all told, my job is pretty fucking cool. i'll keep it in mind.
of babies and bathwater...
"To fix US schools, panel says, start over"
from the christian science monitor
i had meant to post this about a week ago, but never got around to it.
one of my roommates passed this along, and while i do think there are some solid suggestions (specifically those dealing with tenure and pension structures), i'm not sure of what i think about the recommendations as a whole.
give it a read and let me know what you think.
from the christian science monitor
i had meant to post this about a week ago, but never got around to it.
one of my roommates passed this along, and while i do think there are some solid suggestions (specifically those dealing with tenure and pension structures), i'm not sure of what i think about the recommendations as a whole.
give it a read and let me know what you think.
raining robotic doom
this guy:
has figured out how to use the remote control from a nintendo wii to control his roomba (one of those little robotic vacuum cleaners). the video is a bit dry, and while this is certainly a cool application of technology, he fails to see its true potential: a tiny robot army.
imma retrofit a bunch of roombas with electronic cattle prods, steal my roommate's wii remote, and then take to the halls of blackhole high with my fighting force.
classroom management will never be a problem again.
has figured out how to use the remote control from a nintendo wii to control his roomba (one of those little robotic vacuum cleaners). the video is a bit dry, and while this is certainly a cool application of technology, he fails to see its true potential: a tiny robot army.
imma retrofit a bunch of roombas with electronic cattle prods, steal my roommate's wii remote, and then take to the halls of blackhole high with my fighting force.
classroom management will never be a problem again.
Tuesday, December 26, 2006
i took her to a supermarket
"common people" - pulp
from the record different class
been sort of tripping out about this song.
[still at home, so there will be much superfluous posting...just be warned]
from the record different class
been sort of tripping out about this song.
[still at home, so there will be much superfluous posting...just be warned]
sweet dreams are made of these
around 5:30 am i shot awake from a dead sleep because of a dream. thing is, it wasn't a bad dream, per se.
when school reopens on the second of january, i will be picking up a sixth class. this second period class is a ninth grade global history course that is the second (or, alternately, the first) half of a double block for these kids. what this means is that i will have one group of kids three days a week and the other for two.
back to the dream. in the dream i was kicking freshman ass and taking names. i was moving seats around, quieting down the unruly individuals and the general unrest, and shutting down the smartasses with clever retorts and subtle, playful jabs.
i shot awake because somewhere, deep in my subconscious, the success i was having in the dream tripped my bullshit alarm. my conscious mind realized this, closed on the more likely scenario, and booted that dream right out, leaving me sitting upright in a cold sweat.
i spent the rest of the night dreaming about being late for class, being observed with no idea what i was going to teach, and standing on a pyramid while a thousand statuesque, naked and toga-clad women professed their allegiance to my new religion of dionysian asceticism.
that last one might not have been a nightmare. can't rain shit all time.
when school reopens on the second of january, i will be picking up a sixth class. this second period class is a ninth grade global history course that is the second (or, alternately, the first) half of a double block for these kids. what this means is that i will have one group of kids three days a week and the other for two.
back to the dream. in the dream i was kicking freshman ass and taking names. i was moving seats around, quieting down the unruly individuals and the general unrest, and shutting down the smartasses with clever retorts and subtle, playful jabs.
i shot awake because somewhere, deep in my subconscious, the success i was having in the dream tripped my bullshit alarm. my conscious mind realized this, closed on the more likely scenario, and booted that dream right out, leaving me sitting upright in a cold sweat.
i spent the rest of the night dreaming about being late for class, being observed with no idea what i was going to teach, and standing on a pyramid while a thousand statuesque, naked and toga-clad women professed their allegiance to my new religion of dionysian asceticism.
that last one might not have been a nightmare. can't rain shit all time.
Monday, December 25, 2006
of recklessness and water.
christmas is here. get your jubilation on.
the itinerary has been as follows:
saturday, 10:50 am., board amtrak train #43 departing for pittsburgh and all points west.
spend 8 hours in the cafe car playing civ. III (the germans are a proud and warlike people...at least under my command), listening to records, writing and swilling overpriced beer.
7 pm. arrive in the little burg. ride in my father's new toy, arrive at dad's house and continue drinking and stumbling through inebriated renditions of such classics as: "folsom prison blues," "teeth like god's shoeshine," "third planet," "louie louie," "wild thing," "beautiful day," and the always awesome brother medley of "sabotage," "4 and 5," "super bon bon" and "99 problems."
sunday, 9 am., wake up feeling like a dog has shit in my brain. do the family thing over there, exchange gifts, see the grandma, dad gets engaged. so it goes.
3:30 pm, arrive at mom's for the christmas eve spectacular. much thumping of backs and chests, talk of "how much i missed you," and other equally predictable banter ensues.
5:00 pm., the drinking begins again in earnest. my mother, in a strategic mistake of epic proportions, bought me a bottle of tullemore dew (an irish whiskey of which i am particularly fond)...
9 pm., i am floating theories about the future of books in print versus digital distribution, the usually composed among us were slurring speech and swearing undying love and allegiance to each other and wine, alternately.
1 am., my 12 year old brother and i are sitting at his piano banging out boozy renditions of "wish you were here," "hallelujah," "poor places," and "our house." i am still drinking.
today, 9:30 am., i am dragged into consciousness by an eleven and a twelve year old bent on getting to the "reason for the season": new stuff. i dig gift giving, so this was pretty great.
12:00 pm., breakfast. scrabble. assembling and configuring all manner of new technology.
2:22 pm., sitting here tapping the keys.
notice i did not mention teaching. my calm is powerful and pure.
be with me on this: the breaks are for the lunatics in front of the class, not the ones in the seats.
merry christmas.
the itinerary has been as follows:
saturday, 10:50 am., board amtrak train #43 departing for pittsburgh and all points west.
spend 8 hours in the cafe car playing civ. III (the germans are a proud and warlike people...at least under my command), listening to records, writing and swilling overpriced beer.
7 pm. arrive in the little burg. ride in my father's new toy, arrive at dad's house and continue drinking and stumbling through inebriated renditions of such classics as: "folsom prison blues," "teeth like god's shoeshine," "third planet," "louie louie," "wild thing," "beautiful day," and the always awesome brother medley of "sabotage," "4 and 5," "super bon bon" and "99 problems."
sunday, 9 am., wake up feeling like a dog has shit in my brain. do the family thing over there, exchange gifts, see the grandma, dad gets engaged. so it goes.
3:30 pm, arrive at mom's for the christmas eve spectacular. much thumping of backs and chests, talk of "how much i missed you," and other equally predictable banter ensues.
5:00 pm., the drinking begins again in earnest. my mother, in a strategic mistake of epic proportions, bought me a bottle of tullemore dew (an irish whiskey of which i am particularly fond)...
9 pm., i am floating theories about the future of books in print versus digital distribution, the usually composed among us were slurring speech and swearing undying love and allegiance to each other and wine, alternately.
1 am., my 12 year old brother and i are sitting at his piano banging out boozy renditions of "wish you were here," "hallelujah," "poor places," and "our house." i am still drinking.
today, 9:30 am., i am dragged into consciousness by an eleven and a twelve year old bent on getting to the "reason for the season": new stuff. i dig gift giving, so this was pretty great.
12:00 pm., breakfast. scrabble. assembling and configuring all manner of new technology.
2:22 pm., sitting here tapping the keys.
notice i did not mention teaching. my calm is powerful and pure.
be with me on this: the breaks are for the lunatics in front of the class, not the ones in the seats.
merry christmas.
Wednesday, December 20, 2006
poo-tee-weet?
I looked through the Gideon Bible in my motel room for tales of great destruction. The sun was risen upon the Earth when Lot entered into Zo-ar, I read. Then the Lord rained upon Sodom and Gomorrah brimstone and fire from the Lord out of Heaven; and He overthrew those cities, and all the plain, and all the inhabitants of the cities, and that which grew upon the ground.
So it goes.
Those were vile people in both cities, as is well known. The world was better off without them.
And Lot's wife, of course, was told not to look back where all those people and their homes had been. But she did look back, and I love her for that, because it was so human.
So she was turned into a pillar of salt. So it goes.
People aren't supposed to look back. I'm certainly not going to do it anymore.
I've finished my war book now. The next one I write is going to be fun.
This one is a failure, and had to be, since it was written by a pillar of salt.
been rereading slaughterhouse-five, and i've been tripping all over the amazing things vonnegut does in those pages.
another quote, and i'll be done.
She was a dull person, but a sensational invitation to make babies.
Mr. ___ has come unstuck in time.
ok, i'm the asshole here...
as if there were every any doubt.
my kids dug chasing holden.
see, my flaw was that i had lost sight of what it was like to be fifteen and see this sort of thing. i forgot how much the vague anticipation that comes with physical proximity can excite. i forgot that a cheesy line of dialogue and a slow kiss on the cheek can hit a kid pretty goddamn hard. i forgot that melodrama can matter.
i'm the asshole here.
in the future, i will attempt (and then fail) to put my criticisms in perspective before i pop off about these things. i'm just glad that i didn't let the kids know what i thought about the movie before showing it. i'd feel like an even bigger dick if i'd stomped all over their affection for the thing.
it is still not a good movie, but it went over very well.
and on the "good report" trip, my "imma drink every night this week 'cause christmas is here!" experiment is proceeding with truly positive results.
i'm one happy motherfucker when i roll in in the am. and i'm still getting all of my shit done. seems there is a correlation between enjoying yourself when not working and being sane at work.
heh, who knew?
my kids dug chasing holden.
see, my flaw was that i had lost sight of what it was like to be fifteen and see this sort of thing. i forgot how much the vague anticipation that comes with physical proximity can excite. i forgot that a cheesy line of dialogue and a slow kiss on the cheek can hit a kid pretty goddamn hard. i forgot that melodrama can matter.
i'm the asshole here.
in the future, i will attempt (and then fail) to put my criticisms in perspective before i pop off about these things. i'm just glad that i didn't let the kids know what i thought about the movie before showing it. i'd feel like an even bigger dick if i'd stomped all over their affection for the thing.
it is still not a good movie, but it went over very well.
and on the "good report" trip, my "imma drink every night this week 'cause christmas is here!" experiment is proceeding with truly positive results.
i'm one happy motherfucker when i roll in in the am. and i'm still getting all of my shit done. seems there is a correlation between enjoying yourself when not working and being sane at work.
heh, who knew?
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Sunday, December 17, 2006
chasing holden
it's movie time!
from what i have heard, this week is a non-starter for classes in black hole high. i can, according to reliable sources, expect sparse attendance at best past wednesday and a mediocre showing on monday and tuesday.
this means it is movie time.
the juniors, who have done a kickass job with some stories from tim o'brien's fantastic book, the things they carried, will be watching rambo: first blood.
for this i am exited to an unstoppable degree, and, aside from enjoying stallone's classic turn as a fuckin' crazy 'nam vet, i can justify it with some sound pedagogical reasoning (the impact of war on the individual and all that good noise).
the sophomores are not in the same, enviable, position. there is no movie for the catcher in the rye, thank christ. there is igby goes down, which, while a truly fantastic film, is probably a bit much for the kids...the heroin delivery, abuse and wanton sex might cross a few lines.
but there was hope. i was lent a film titled chasing holden by another teacher in the building who professes that she "looooves teaching catcher," and that it is her "favorite book ever."
anyone who counts it as their favorite novel is automatically suspect (not to impugn the quality of the book, but there are problems and failings there), but i was looking for anything and this was it.
this movie is fucking terrible.
it isn't just bad, no no, much worse than that. the lead is that gangly, white kid from road trip, and he plays the less-than-stable son of the governor of new york. gangly spends a couple of years institutionalized for depression or something similar, gets out, and is promptly carted off to another elite boarding school. oh yeah, and he calls his dad a phoney about nine times in that first fifteen minutes.
miraculously, gangly meets an english teacher who is cool AND edgy...not just cool OR edgy, mind you. mr. slick assigns a paper about what happens to holden after the book ends. gangly gets all hot and bothered about it, salinger refuses to be interviewed by him, and so gangly decides to kill him.
and while this is happening, gangly meets the mousy klepto with whom he decides to run off on his murder mission. did i neglect to mention that she's dying of some poorly defined "predisposition to aneurysms?" she is, by the way.
stack on top of this the wedged in mention of gangly's dead, gay brother and a bunch of creepy, vaguely admiring, references to mark david chapman, and you've got the feel good movie of forever.
this unrelenting, completely humorless, trainwreck of a movie continues as our heroes variously: escape from a swanky manhattan social club by throwing chairs through fourth story windows, save a hooker from a trick gone bad, and then steal the trick's wallet, almost rob a bank...on accident, have a relaxing breakfast with gramps, and steal a car on the way to kill salinger.
mousy klepto bites it with gangly by her side, governor dad shows up, gangly hugs him and then it, mercifully, ends...WITH NO CONSEQUENCES AT ALL FOR THE CRIME SPREE THESE TWO TEENAGERS HAVE GONE ON THAT HAS ENDED WITH ONE OF THEIR DEATHS.
it's okay, his dad is the governor.
still, i might show it to the kids out of spite if they piss me off on monday. who knows?
from what i have heard, this week is a non-starter for classes in black hole high. i can, according to reliable sources, expect sparse attendance at best past wednesday and a mediocre showing on monday and tuesday.
this means it is movie time.
the juniors, who have done a kickass job with some stories from tim o'brien's fantastic book, the things they carried, will be watching rambo: first blood.
for this i am exited to an unstoppable degree, and, aside from enjoying stallone's classic turn as a fuckin' crazy 'nam vet, i can justify it with some sound pedagogical reasoning (the impact of war on the individual and all that good noise).
the sophomores are not in the same, enviable, position. there is no movie for the catcher in the rye, thank christ. there is igby goes down, which, while a truly fantastic film, is probably a bit much for the kids...the heroin delivery, abuse and wanton sex might cross a few lines.
but there was hope. i was lent a film titled chasing holden by another teacher in the building who professes that she "looooves teaching catcher," and that it is her "favorite book ever."
anyone who counts it as their favorite novel is automatically suspect (not to impugn the quality of the book, but there are problems and failings there), but i was looking for anything and this was it.
this movie is fucking terrible.
it isn't just bad, no no, much worse than that. the lead is that gangly, white kid from road trip, and he plays the less-than-stable son of the governor of new york. gangly spends a couple of years institutionalized for depression or something similar, gets out, and is promptly carted off to another elite boarding school. oh yeah, and he calls his dad a phoney about nine times in that first fifteen minutes.
miraculously, gangly meets an english teacher who is cool AND edgy...not just cool OR edgy, mind you. mr. slick assigns a paper about what happens to holden after the book ends. gangly gets all hot and bothered about it, salinger refuses to be interviewed by him, and so gangly decides to kill him.
and while this is happening, gangly meets the mousy klepto with whom he decides to run off on his murder mission. did i neglect to mention that she's dying of some poorly defined "predisposition to aneurysms?" she is, by the way.
stack on top of this the wedged in mention of gangly's dead, gay brother and a bunch of creepy, vaguely admiring, references to mark david chapman, and you've got the feel good movie of forever.
this unrelenting, completely humorless, trainwreck of a movie continues as our heroes variously: escape from a swanky manhattan social club by throwing chairs through fourth story windows, save a hooker from a trick gone bad, and then steal the trick's wallet, almost rob a bank...on accident, have a relaxing breakfast with gramps, and steal a car on the way to kill salinger.
mousy klepto bites it with gangly by her side, governor dad shows up, gangly hugs him and then it, mercifully, ends...WITH NO CONSEQUENCES AT ALL FOR THE CRIME SPREE THESE TWO TEENAGERS HAVE GONE ON THAT HAS ENDED WITH ONE OF THEIR DEATHS.
it's okay, his dad is the governor.
still, i might show it to the kids out of spite if they piss me off on monday. who knows?
Monday, December 04, 2006
whose house?
as i sit and will my body into a full recovery i thought i'd tell a cool little story.
i have about one hundred sophomores on my roster, among this horde there are three members of the junior varsity men's basketball team and one member of the varsity team. on the day of every home game i get the same kids asking me if i'm going to come and watch and, inevitably, i am unable to because of some other obligations.
not last friday.
i finished up teaching, dropped off my attendance, took care of some paperwork and wandered into the gym.
as i situated myself at the top of the bleachers (there are only about 4 levels) i watched the opposing team run drills. there were about 17 kids on the team and they were all giants. they had what looked to be brand new uniforms and were running some well-rehearsed tap and passing drills.
this went on for about five minutes before the blackhole high crew took to the court. there were 12 of them. they came out, broke roughly in half, and ran two laps around the court running in opposite directions while the other team continued to warm up.
the home team started doing a truly halfhearted layup tap drill and then shot from around the court, looking about as apathetic as my fourth period class on a monday.
i was concerned.
my students on the team gave me a "whatup" nod and continued to lob balls at the hoop with the energy (and accuracy) of a nursing home resident.
there was the usual pre-game cheering and huddling up on both benches and then they took to the court.
blackhole high wins the tip off...
...and proceeds to kick the living shit out of the visiting team for the next 32 minutes of clock. it wasn't just a beating, it was an embarrassment. highlights included:
shit is so much better than television.
i have about one hundred sophomores on my roster, among this horde there are three members of the junior varsity men's basketball team and one member of the varsity team. on the day of every home game i get the same kids asking me if i'm going to come and watch and, inevitably, i am unable to because of some other obligations.
not last friday.
i finished up teaching, dropped off my attendance, took care of some paperwork and wandered into the gym.
as i situated myself at the top of the bleachers (there are only about 4 levels) i watched the opposing team run drills. there were about 17 kids on the team and they were all giants. they had what looked to be brand new uniforms and were running some well-rehearsed tap and passing drills.
this went on for about five minutes before the blackhole high crew took to the court. there were 12 of them. they came out, broke roughly in half, and ran two laps around the court running in opposite directions while the other team continued to warm up.
the home team started doing a truly halfhearted layup tap drill and then shot from around the court, looking about as apathetic as my fourth period class on a monday.
i was concerned.
my students on the team gave me a "whatup" nod and continued to lob balls at the hoop with the energy (and accuracy) of a nursing home resident.
there was the usual pre-game cheering and huddling up on both benches and then they took to the court.
blackhole high wins the tip off...
...and proceeds to kick the living shit out of the visiting team for the next 32 minutes of clock. it wasn't just a beating, it was an embarrassment. highlights included:
- one of my students setting up an off the backboard dunk.
- another of my kids connecting with a defender in mid-air, laying the little shit out, making his shot, and drawing the foul.
- a full-court pass leading to a dunk that brought the lead beyond twenty points in the second half.
shit is so much better than television.
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just when i think i'm out, it pulls me back in
it all started with a cough...about a month ago.
was diagnosed with an upper respiratory infection, got myself some antibiotics, took em', and assumed that all was well.
enter bronchitis.
i had assumed that by the end of last week i was really at the end of this thing. even up until yesterday afternoon i was feeling pretty well.
this morning, couldn't breathe.
what has happened, as far as i can tell, is that my apartment has become a vector for disease.
i picked something up from one of the 1,500 kids at school, went ten rounds with it, and in the process passed it on to one of the roommates. he wrestled with it for a bit, knocked it around, but it had learned some new moves and decided to jump back to me.
i'm no epidemiologist, but that sounds plausible, right?
moral of the story: next year take more vitamins, wear bubble-boy costume to work.
was diagnosed with an upper respiratory infection, got myself some antibiotics, took em', and assumed that all was well.
enter bronchitis.
i had assumed that by the end of last week i was really at the end of this thing. even up until yesterday afternoon i was feeling pretty well.
this morning, couldn't breathe.
what has happened, as far as i can tell, is that my apartment has become a vector for disease.
i picked something up from one of the 1,500 kids at school, went ten rounds with it, and in the process passed it on to one of the roommates. he wrestled with it for a bit, knocked it around, but it had learned some new moves and decided to jump back to me.
i'm no epidemiologist, but that sounds plausible, right?
moral of the story: next year take more vitamins, wear bubble-boy costume to work.
Sunday, December 03, 2006
here it comes
on friday i was observed by my assistant principal and, in a feat of unparalleled awesome, my kids kicked ass. they made me look good, which is a difficult thing to do.
this is, when taken alone, a good thing. however, this took a turn for the fucking horrible within fifteen seconds of the class ending.
once the last student had exploded into the hallway i walked over to my a.p. and struck up a brief conversation. it seemed that he was pleased with what he'd seen, and i was pleased with his pleasure and all sorts of pleasedness was afoot.
then the bomb dropped.
on tuesday, the local instructional super intendant (the "list" as he is commonly referred to) will be in the building, and my a.p. thinks that my 4th period class would be a good place to bring him.
well fuck me.
i am clearly less than pleased with this plan, but what compounds it is the other two observations i will have in the first half of the week. on monday i'll be getting a visit from my department of education "mentor" so that she can tell me all about how i should work on board management and inventive seating arrangements, and on wednesday i'll have to put on a dog and pony show for my grad school mentor.
it isn't that i fear people seeing what goes on in my classroom(s) (although there have been some creative uses of language employed that might make a few folks blush), it's more that i inevitably fuck up when i'm being watched. i seize up a bit, the kids see that i'm off and they get all weirded out, then one of them makes a joke that i shouldn't be laughing at (but usually would) and i have to put on my faux-disciplinarian mask.
no fun for anyone, and if i were to include friday this will make four straight days during which i will be observed.
for the record, i desire no more mentoring. no pep talks. no intimate conversations about my feelings. no more disingenuous urging to "take care of yourself."
but a candy cane...well, that would do nicely.
this is, when taken alone, a good thing. however, this took a turn for the fucking horrible within fifteen seconds of the class ending.
once the last student had exploded into the hallway i walked over to my a.p. and struck up a brief conversation. it seemed that he was pleased with what he'd seen, and i was pleased with his pleasure and all sorts of pleasedness was afoot.
then the bomb dropped.
on tuesday, the local instructional super intendant (the "list" as he is commonly referred to) will be in the building, and my a.p. thinks that my 4th period class would be a good place to bring him.
well fuck me.
i am clearly less than pleased with this plan, but what compounds it is the other two observations i will have in the first half of the week. on monday i'll be getting a visit from my department of education "mentor" so that she can tell me all about how i should work on board management and inventive seating arrangements, and on wednesday i'll have to put on a dog and pony show for my grad school mentor.
it isn't that i fear people seeing what goes on in my classroom(s) (although there have been some creative uses of language employed that might make a few folks blush), it's more that i inevitably fuck up when i'm being watched. i seize up a bit, the kids see that i'm off and they get all weirded out, then one of them makes a joke that i shouldn't be laughing at (but usually would) and i have to put on my faux-disciplinarian mask.
no fun for anyone, and if i were to include friday this will make four straight days during which i will be observed.
for the record, i desire no more mentoring. no pep talks. no intimate conversations about my feelings. no more disingenuous urging to "take care of yourself."
but a candy cane...well, that would do nicely.
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Thursday, November 30, 2006
they let me teach children...
so, i was playing the new zelda game (let's all just move past the image of a grown ass man swinging a remote control around and battling fictional forces of darkness) and i indulged in my habit of giving characters in the game offensive names, in this case naming my horse "whore" and my character "dickus" (after my roommate's namesake, sir dickus mintus).
this was the outcome.
yes, we are full-grown children.
this was the outcome.
yes, we are full-grown children.
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What does the threat of gang violence smell like?
A DAY OFF OF WORK!
today, about fifteen minutes into my 8th period class, the rapid dismissal bell started to ring.
for the uninitiated, the rapid dismissal bell is just like a fire drill except that it is supposed to indicate either a bomb or some bad ass fucking shit about to happen. there have been some rapid dismissal drills before, but those are usually just engineered to end the day early by spreading the rumor among the inmates that there will be no 9th or 10th period that day (yes, the administration is lazy as hell too).
today was apparently a bad ass fucking shit day.
rumor had it that there was going to be some gang activity happening at the end of 8th period (when the majority of students are dismissed for the day). there is a pretty high level of racial tension between dominican and black students and that can manifest itself through my personal favorite gang: DDP. they are my favorite because the name is retarded. it stands for "dominicans don't play" and is comprised entirely of, wait for it, dominicans. i have theories about the lameness of the name that involve fractured urban slang and the fact that all of the kids in the gang have likely never gone to their fucking english classes, but that is for another time.
the story was that some ddp hoodlums (great word, hoodlums) were going to jump some kids after 8th period and then come in the school and generally fuck all sorts of shit up. this information came from teachers and administrators overhearing students talking about this.
now, i'm not one to complain about being done with work early, but what if the kids start to figure out that a rumor of gang violence means that the day gets shorter?
just asking.
it's a crazy mixed-up world at blackhole high in the south bronx, but don't ask me for insight 'cause i just work here.
today, about fifteen minutes into my 8th period class, the rapid dismissal bell started to ring.
for the uninitiated, the rapid dismissal bell is just like a fire drill except that it is supposed to indicate either a bomb or some bad ass fucking shit about to happen. there have been some rapid dismissal drills before, but those are usually just engineered to end the day early by spreading the rumor among the inmates that there will be no 9th or 10th period that day (yes, the administration is lazy as hell too).
today was apparently a bad ass fucking shit day.
rumor had it that there was going to be some gang activity happening at the end of 8th period (when the majority of students are dismissed for the day). there is a pretty high level of racial tension between dominican and black students and that can manifest itself through my personal favorite gang: DDP. they are my favorite because the name is retarded. it stands for "dominicans don't play" and is comprised entirely of, wait for it, dominicans. i have theories about the lameness of the name that involve fractured urban slang and the fact that all of the kids in the gang have likely never gone to their fucking english classes, but that is for another time.
the story was that some ddp hoodlums (great word, hoodlums) were going to jump some kids after 8th period and then come in the school and generally fuck all sorts of shit up. this information came from teachers and administrators overhearing students talking about this.
now, i'm not one to complain about being done with work early, but what if the kids start to figure out that a rumor of gang violence means that the day gets shorter?
just asking.
it's a crazy mixed-up world at blackhole high in the south bronx, but don't ask me for insight 'cause i just work here.
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Friday, November 24, 2006
wearing a thick protective armor...
so, i'm now into day two of pure indolence, and i've gotta say, goddamn does it feel good.
i spent the full balance of thanksgiving day doing the following:
-laying on my couch in my apartment
-being glad that i was laying on my couch in my apartment
-laughing at the suckers out in the rain watching a parade when they could be laying on couches in their respective apartments.
i think, this being "black friday" and all, that i might go stomp some holiday shoppers at a best buy, tip over a few salvation army cauldrons, or just break an xbox 360 in front of some snotty upper east side twelve year old.
i love the holidays.
(72 more hours until i have to face a classroom again... this is what i am thankful for.)
i spent the full balance of thanksgiving day doing the following:
-laying on my couch in my apartment
-being glad that i was laying on my couch in my apartment
-laughing at the suckers out in the rain watching a parade when they could be laying on couches in their respective apartments.
i think, this being "black friday" and all, that i might go stomp some holiday shoppers at a best buy, tip over a few salvation army cauldrons, or just break an xbox 360 in front of some snotty upper east side twelve year old.
i love the holidays.
(72 more hours until i have to face a classroom again... this is what i am thankful for.)
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Monday, November 13, 2006
are you down with the sickness?
i have spent both saturday and sunday of the last two weekends being sick as all fuck.
i am tired of this shit.
after sleeping maybe three hours last night, coughing up about 2/3 of a lung and taking enough nyquil to hallucinate, i decided it was prudent to stay home from work today.
here's the thing: i am, undeniably, sick. i am not blowing off work, spending all day sleeping off a hangover, playing video games or watching movies. nope, i spent today drinking cough medicine like a desperate hobo and researching strategies for teaching vocabulary.
yes, strategies for teaching vocabulary.
i remember the halcyon days of high school when a sick day meant hours of laying on the couch, watching the entire star wars trilogy, and rereading a stack of x-men comic books.
no more.
these days i need to figure out how to make learning vocabulary fun and effective.
i miss high school, not teaching it.
i am tired of this shit.
after sleeping maybe three hours last night, coughing up about 2/3 of a lung and taking enough nyquil to hallucinate, i decided it was prudent to stay home from work today.
here's the thing: i am, undeniably, sick. i am not blowing off work, spending all day sleeping off a hangover, playing video games or watching movies. nope, i spent today drinking cough medicine like a desperate hobo and researching strategies for teaching vocabulary.
yes, strategies for teaching vocabulary.
i remember the halcyon days of high school when a sick day meant hours of laying on the couch, watching the entire star wars trilogy, and rereading a stack of x-men comic books.
no more.
these days i need to figure out how to make learning vocabulary fun and effective.
i miss high school, not teaching it.
Saturday, November 11, 2006
ball and chain
i know, i know... it's been a while. rest assured that i will be posting more in the coming days/weeks/months/millennia.
as i attempt to organize my daily shit into some sort of cogent narrative i'll give you a little slice of life at Blackhole High.
on friday i was sitting in the english department office (read: wedged between a fold-out table, the faculty mailboxes, and a closet) rereading warren ellis' fantastic comic transmetropolitan (check out an issue here) and i happened to look at the bulletin board against which my head had been resting. There are, generally, around thirty suspension notices pinned up, overlapping each other in a manner reminiscent of a university commons building "announcements" board.
usually, there is nothing of interest to be found. friday was the exception.
there is a section of each notice detailing the reasons for suspension, usually something like cutting classes, getting into a fight, or serially terrorizing a teacher. this one was special.
this young man had been caught attempting to bring a homemade mace into class. he'd taken a long gym sock and dropped a cue ball in it, theoretically planning to beat the living fuck out of some kid for scuffing his shoes or some equally retarded offence.
i made a copy of the suspension notice.
it's on my bedroom wall now.
these are the students of Blackhole High.
as i attempt to organize my daily shit into some sort of cogent narrative i'll give you a little slice of life at Blackhole High.
on friday i was sitting in the english department office (read: wedged between a fold-out table, the faculty mailboxes, and a closet) rereading warren ellis' fantastic comic transmetropolitan (check out an issue here) and i happened to look at the bulletin board against which my head had been resting. There are, generally, around thirty suspension notices pinned up, overlapping each other in a manner reminiscent of a university commons building "announcements" board.
usually, there is nothing of interest to be found. friday was the exception.
there is a section of each notice detailing the reasons for suspension, usually something like cutting classes, getting into a fight, or serially terrorizing a teacher. this one was special.
this young man had been caught attempting to bring a homemade mace into class. he'd taken a long gym sock and dropped a cue ball in it, theoretically planning to beat the living fuck out of some kid for scuffing his shoes or some equally retarded offence.
i made a copy of the suspension notice.
it's on my bedroom wall now.
these are the students of Blackhole High.
Friday, October 13, 2006
find a way
on this, the last day of the first marking period, i'd like to offer up a few of the directives i've been given regarding grading (and as a preface, know that i am not a difficult grader, that i plan on passing a lot of my students, and that i give them many opportunities to earn credit other than tests and essays):
when they've seen that they can just crawl over the bar for years, what is supposed to motivate them to reach any higher? all answers are welcome.
- no student in an honors class is to be given less than a 91% - were these students all actually honors students, and not just kids that were misplaced because their teacher last year took a shine to 'em, this might be possible. the reality is, that even by the grading standard i'm using for kids in my regular classes, i have at least one kid who is failing my honors sophomore english class. fuck the administration on this one. that kid ain't gettin' a 91%
- no student is to be given below a 50%, and most failing grades should be coded as 55% - what this means, as far as boots on the ground reality, is that a kid who has never shown up for my class gets a 50%, and a kid who i've seen at least once gets a 55%. i am astounded at what constitutes "near failure" for these kids.
- find a a way to pass as many students as possible - i shit you not. i am to "find a way" to pass a kid who has shown up maybe half of the time, not done a single piece of homework, never participated in class (has, in fact, caused more problems than not), and responded to every question on his latest quiz with "i don't care." i am supposed to pass along illiterate kids just so that this school and its administrators can inflate the numbers and put lipstick on a rotting pig.
when they've seen that they can just crawl over the bar for years, what is supposed to motivate them to reach any higher? all answers are welcome.
Tuesday, October 10, 2006
over what?
[listening to: the hold steady, boys and girls in america]
regarding the past of the character Miss Rosie from lucille clifton's poem of the same name.
a student of mine had the following to offer the class as an explanation for Miss Rosie's fall from beauty queen in georgia to "wet brown bag of a woman":
1.) "cha-dig-it" - i can only assume that this is supposed to represent: "ya dig it?" i'm only aware of the exact spelling because the student in question has used it repeatedly in his homework and journal entries.
2.) "nigga kicked her sideways" - self explanatory.
3.) "haagen dazs" - there are few things better than a kid wearing earrings and a necklace with the face of jesus on them name dropping mass-consumer ice cream brands in the same sentence as the word "titties."
4.) "trippin over her own titties" - i asked what he meant by this and he cleared it up, explaining that he means she got fat and crazy. that is to say that she was both trippin (in the metaphorical sense) and (literally) doing so over her own pendulous breasts.
5.) "crazy homeless" - similar to number four in that "crazy" indicates that she is both nuts and it serves as a substitute for "very."
i am daily astounded by their accidental acuity with language.
regarding the past of the character Miss Rosie from lucille clifton's poem of the same name.
a student of mine had the following to offer the class as an explanation for Miss Rosie's fall from beauty queen in georgia to "wet brown bag of a woman":
see, she used to be bangin! cha-dig-it? then she got dropped by her man. no shit, nigga kicked her sideways. she started eating the haagen dazs, got all fat, started trippin' over her own titties. now that bitch is crazy homeless!my favorite moments here are as follows:
1.) "cha-dig-it" - i can only assume that this is supposed to represent: "ya dig it?" i'm only aware of the exact spelling because the student in question has used it repeatedly in his homework and journal entries.
2.) "nigga kicked her sideways" - self explanatory.
3.) "haagen dazs" - there are few things better than a kid wearing earrings and a necklace with the face of jesus on them name dropping mass-consumer ice cream brands in the same sentence as the word "titties."
4.) "trippin over her own titties" - i asked what he meant by this and he cleared it up, explaining that he means she got fat and crazy. that is to say that she was both trippin (in the metaphorical sense) and (literally) doing so over her own pendulous breasts.
5.) "crazy homeless" - similar to number four in that "crazy" indicates that she is both nuts and it serves as a substitute for "very."
i am daily astounded by their accidental acuity with language.
judas
"citrus" by the hold steady from the record boys and girls in america
get it if you can, it's absolutely worth it.
(future posts will be less lame. seriously.)
hey citrusi can't stop listening to this song. a perfect cross between melancholy and hope...kind of how i'm feeling.
hey liquor
i love it when you touch each other
hey whiskey
hey ginger
i come to you with rigid fingers
i see judas in the hard eyes of the boys working the corners
i feel jesus in the clumsiness of young and awkward lovers
hey barroom
hey tavern
i find hope in all the souls you gather
hey citrus
hey liquor
i love it when we come together
i feel jesus in the clumsiness of young and awkward lovers
i feel judas in the long odds of the rackets on the corners
i feel jesus in the tenderness of honest nervous lovers
i feel judas in the pistols and the pagers that come with all the powders
lost in fog and love and faithless fear
i've had kisses that make judas seem sincere
lost in fog and love and faithless fear
i've had kisses that make judas seem sincere
get it if you can, it's absolutely worth it.
(future posts will be less lame. seriously.)
fatigue - n.
there is an odd tired that comes over you at this job.
i've reached a point where i can bang out my lesson plans with relative ease, i can get the kids through a book and gain some (an important qualification) genuine interest, and i've been able to keep some semblance of order in my class.
but holy shit do i feel the grind...
...and i hear tell that november is when it really comes home.
i've reached a point where i can bang out my lesson plans with relative ease, i can get the kids through a book and gain some (an important qualification) genuine interest, and i've been able to keep some semblance of order in my class.
but holy shit do i feel the grind...
...and i hear tell that november is when it really comes home.
Friday, October 06, 2006
and the lord said: "let the bullshit flow!"
i think i'm going to start posting to this thing more often.
while i've thrown heaping piles of derision at blogs in general, and am in no way certain that my shitty life is interesting enough to toss up on the internet, writing this thing is somewhat therapeutic.
be prepared...a tidal wave of minutia and inanity is set to follow....
while i've thrown heaping piles of derision at blogs in general, and am in no way certain that my shitty life is interesting enough to toss up on the internet, writing this thing is somewhat therapeutic.
be prepared...a tidal wave of minutia and inanity is set to follow....
i will hit your kid...
bernie mac said it, and yeterday one of my student's parents asked me to do it.
seriously.
i called this woman to tell her that her son, who is a bright, but trying, young man, needed to shut his goddamn mouth and start turning in his work.
her response: "you just give that boy a smack."
me: "ma'am, i'm not sure that would be appropriate, but i would be grateful if you could have a word with him."
her: "oh, i will, don't you worry none about that. but just swat him upside his head if he acting up. that's how i do."
if only she had been able to produce a notorized legal document stating that i can hit her kid...i'd be hitting him for shit other kids were doing.
"you stressed?"
"yeah, but i'm gonna smack joshua around next period, so i'll be ok."
...not that i condone corporal punishment...
seriously.
i called this woman to tell her that her son, who is a bright, but trying, young man, needed to shut his goddamn mouth and start turning in his work.
her response: "you just give that boy a smack."
me: "ma'am, i'm not sure that would be appropriate, but i would be grateful if you could have a word with him."
her: "oh, i will, don't you worry none about that. but just swat him upside his head if he acting up. that's how i do."
if only she had been able to produce a notorized legal document stating that i can hit her kid...i'd be hitting him for shit other kids were doing.
"you stressed?"
"yeah, but i'm gonna smack joshua around next period, so i'll be ok."
...not that i condone corporal punishment...
Wednesday, September 20, 2006
suffer the little children...
today my phone was stolen.
i made the horrible mistake of leaving it on the desk for five minutes and turning my back. this happened at the end of my 8th period class, so i went on to teach for another 90 minutes while imagining killing the child who now held my telephone.
i'm still imagining it.
this is only the latest indignity in a week that has felt like a bath in pig shit.
i'm not sure if i've related the whole ESL coverage situation, but here are the important details:
i made the horrible mistake of leaving it on the desk for five minutes and turning my back. this happened at the end of my 8th period class, so i went on to teach for another 90 minutes while imagining killing the child who now held my telephone.
i'm still imagining it.
this is only the latest indignity in a week that has felt like a bath in pig shit.
i'm not sure if i've related the whole ESL coverage situation, but here are the important details:
- on my first day of school i was asked to "run down to room B7 and cover this class," and handed an attendance envelope.
- on the next day i was informed that i would be covering this class for (at least) the rest of the week.
- the next day, thursday, i was told that the reason for this is that the actual ESL teacher is hung up somewhere outside the country on visa issues, but that she intends to come back in the beginning of october.
- i made it clear to the necessary parties that i would not be able to cover this class until then for the following reasons:
- i am a first year teacher who has no idea what he is doing
- i am already teaching three different classes, five periods a day
- planning three classes is hard enough, a fourth is brutal
- I AM NOT AN ESL (english as a second language) TEACHER
- i was told that they would try to have someone else take it on monday.
- didn't happen.
- same thing the next week, i was told that this monday there would be someone new. they had, i was told, hired a long-term substitute teacher to handle the class.
- the sub wrecked his car on the way to work on monday.
- i still have the ESL class.
Tuesday, September 12, 2006
satisfying
you know those little loops that are on the top of jansport backpacks and the like?
ever grab a kid by one as he tried to dive, chest first, into an unruly mob of fight-crazed high school students?
best moment of my fucking day.
--mister.
ever grab a kid by one as he tried to dive, chest first, into an unruly mob of fight-crazed high school students?
best moment of my fucking day.
--mister.
Monday, September 04, 2006
do now
[listening to: the long winters, putting the days to bed]
there are a little more then twelve hours left before a horde of unruly monsters descend on my classroom (which really isn't my classroom, but just the space i've dragged my teacher cart to for the next 50 minutes).
this is a horrifying prospect.
i have no idea how to teach a book (or even how to appropriately select a text to teach), i have no concept of how to create a simple unit plan, let alone plan a syllabus for a classroom, and i'm not really sure how i might learn these things.
seems like the kind of fundamental information one would expect to get from a boot-camp for new teachers.
you'd think.
on the bright side, i'm capable of making a kick-ass "word wall," a truly instructive bulletin board, and some mean-as-fuck graphic organizers.
my venn diagrams make grown men cry.
there are a little more then twelve hours left before a horde of unruly monsters descend on my classroom (which really isn't my classroom, but just the space i've dragged my teacher cart to for the next 50 minutes).
this is a horrifying prospect.
i have no idea how to teach a book (or even how to appropriately select a text to teach), i have no concept of how to create a simple unit plan, let alone plan a syllabus for a classroom, and i'm not really sure how i might learn these things.
seems like the kind of fundamental information one would expect to get from a boot-camp for new teachers.
you'd think.
on the bright side, i'm capable of making a kick-ass "word wall," a truly instructive bulletin board, and some mean-as-fuck graphic organizers.
my venn diagrams make grown men cry.
t-minus
school starts tomorrow. all of the anxiety and anticipation that decided to RSVP is here...with friends.
i have a classroom contract, a letter to parents, and an interest survey to give the kids. all of these things are lame.
here i go, into the fray. time to teach me some english.
rave on john donne.
i have a classroom contract, a letter to parents, and an interest survey to give the kids. all of these things are lame.
here i go, into the fray. time to teach me some english.
rave on john donne.
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