Sweet Dreams

 Sometimes I have sweet dreams.  Sometimes I have really weird dreams.  Sometimes I have dreams that are so irritating that I wake up wondering if I really got any rest at all.  

But last night they were sweet dreams.

I was with a friend from the past.  We were together after a long awkward silence- very long in fact- like a life time.

It seemed that we hadn’t planned the get together, but it also wasn’t completely unexpected.  I felt uneasy because of some things I had said before the current meeting.  

We were sitting together- being uncomfortable together- when another friend came in.  I felt this was both good and bad- good because perhaps this new friend would break the tension and make us feel normal- bad because it had been so very long since I had seen or talked to this old friend that I had hoped that we would have some time to ourselves to catch up.

The new friend greeted us and started settling in for a visit.  We were happy to see this addition to our group, so the tension did break and we were becoming more natural.  

Suddenly the new friend had to leave, and he gathered all his things and was gone.

We, my old friend and I, were alone again.

Then he came to me- embraced me and and said, “I wish it could have been different for us.  I wish we could have had a  _____ relationship.”  I don’t actually remember clearly the word he used.  That’s odd because I remember thinking when I woke that the word didn’t match the feeling in the strictest sense. 

The word that I keep landing on now is “corporal.”  Corporal means ‘body,’ but this was not at all a sexual tone- more like a brotherly affection.  As I write this I’m thinking the body of Christ. 

Perhaps it meant, ‘I wish we could have had a relationship as part of the body of Christ . . .’ 

Or maybe it meant that our friendship will continue outside of our corporal existence- in heaven . . .

When I woke it was a sweet feeling- and a little sad.  

I wish things were different too.

I wish my girls had an uncle to tell them about the ‘War of Northern Aggression” (I think we all see those quotation marks- I considered making them bold- but . . . I don’t need to be too aggressive) and the Old Republic of Texas.  I think they would quite like an eccentric uncle- current uncles are generally low on eccentricity- most of them anyway.

Every day I’m shuffling - shuffling.

 I have been working full time sine the beginning of the school year.  I have been a “long term sub” for the ESL department of my ISD.  I will transfer to “Teacher” when I take (and pass) my teacher certification exam- and get the results back.  I admit I have been putting it off- but I’m ready now and I plan to take it this month.  The only thing that will change in this school year with that certification is that I’ll get paid more. :) 

I expect my current schedule to continue.  Each week students have eight 90+ minute classes.  Most teachers have six 90+ minute classes a week, one planning period, and one meeting period.  I have four classes a week, my planning period and my meeting period.  It is kind of wonderful because truly I don’t have much to plan.  I have two English 1/ESOL1 classes- which are English 1 classes for kids who have been the the US for two years or less. I also have two “English Language Development and Acquisition” (ELDA) classes. These are required classes for the same group of kids, but it is more like a study hall, additional help time.  — meaning I don’t have to plan anything.

The other two classes a week, I substitute.  The last period of every day is a surprise.  I often end up in one of the class rooms near mine- so English Lit, Geography, or Algebra.  Occasionally I’ll be sent off to the far reaches of the school- Art class, Welding class, Game design and development class, Fashion design class, Economics, Business etc.

Yesterday I headed off to a math class.  Not Algebra or Geometry- but some other name I didn’t recognize. I started down the hall.  As I walked I thought to myself, “I haven’t been down this hall before.” I walked in the room, and the first thing that happened was a student who walked up to me coming in in for hug with arms wide open.  He said, “Hi! I’m Alex, what’s your name?”  Then I realized, “Ah- I’m in Speacial Ed today!”  The next thing I noticed was a big guy walking around the room.  He looked too old to be a student, but he was wearing shorts and a tank top- not the attire of someone who was working there. I looked around and thought several of the students looked older than high school age.  I know that some special ed students continue on for training after they are 18, but this guy still didn’t fit in. I looked at him- before I could ask what his roll was he said, “I’m a helper!  I help here.  I’m a helper in here.”  So- yeah- seems like maybe he was also special.  

The teacher had left instructions like this: “There are worksheets on the table, teach the students how to do them, collect them when the students are done.  Make sure the room is clean when you leave.”  I looked at the worksheet and it seemed to be pre-algebra.  Maybe pre-pre-algebra.  

SIDE NOTE: Amazingly I got an ACADEMIC LETTER (didn’t even know that was a thing until I got it) in Algebra.  Was it because I excelled at Algebra?  Because I was an Algebra whiz who tutored all the other lowly Algebra students?  NO!  I was terrible at Algebra!  I never understood what was happening in Algebra!  I needed to keep my GPA up for scholarships- so I did work really hard at Algebra.  I asked A LOT of questions in Algebra.  I didn’t get a lot of answers in Algebra because the school was literally being torn down around my classroom, and the sound of the bull dozers and back hoes drown out my teacher.  I would say, “I CAN’T HEAR YOU!” (Caps for yelling this time.) And he would yell back, “JUST LOOK AT WHAT I’M WRITING ON THE BOARD!”  I think he gave me the academic letter because I seemed to be the only one who cared about passing the class.  

Okay- flash forward to the pre-pre-algebra special ed worksheet.  I notice it has number lines, greater than/less than symbols and a word problem about area.  I can do the greater than/less than.  The others are a no -go.  So- I walk around and start telling the students in small groups how to do that part of the worksheet.  While that’s happening big guy says, “Is it okay to play some music for the class.  The regular teacher  usually lets us.”  So I say, “Sure.”  I mean I don’t know what is needed to keep these kids calm on a regular basis.  This little Asian girl say, “Oh I know some nice relaxing music you can play.”  Good idea- I play relaxing music in my classroom- when the tech is working.  I put on her modern/light jazz play list. Seems good to me.  Big guy is all “What’s this?! I’m gonna be the DJ!  What do you guys want?”  Thanks Helper!  Now R Kelly and Pit Bull are spitting explicatives- and I’m all-“you gotta change that song and  turn it down!” I notice that some of the kids are holding their ears and rocking back and forth.

They turn it down, but toward the end of class it morphs into Tejano music and starts getting louder again. The kid in the corner says, “Can you ask them to turn that music off?  I don’t like Mexican Music!”  Class is almost over, and I’ve had enough myself so I’m like, “Yeah, I’ll turn it off.” This is where things start flying off the rails.

About 4 of the other kids in the class gather around the kid who didn’t like the Mexican music.  I don’t know what they were saying or doing, because when I say “kids” I mean like 5’10- 6’  200 lb young men. The kid who didn’t like the music starts squealing, “Leave me alone! Leave me alone! Get away from me!”  I go over there to break it up- I try to disperse them and get them to back away.  They are all upset because they say that kid is racist.  

I triy to explain to them that just because he doesn’t like a certain kind of music doesn’t mean he’s racist. There are lots of different kinds of music, and we don’t have to like all of them.  They all agree to that, but then inform me that he has said, “Bad things about people and their countries before.”  So- okay I can’t speak to that, but today we are going to back up and leave him alone.  I look over to quiet 'Asian- modern/light jazz girl' and she is visibly upset.  I go talk to her.  She tells me she is upset because they are being mean to 'don’t like Mexican Music boy.'  She asks if she can ask them to be nice to him.  

That seemed like a reasonable request, so I say,  “Yeah, you can do that.”  The next thing I know there’s an angry owl next to  me screeching “Leave him Alone! Stop being mean to him!”  

Well that set one of the boys off and he puffs up and starts pointing and yelling, “Shut the F#$@ up!  You just shut the F%$# up! SHUT THE F#$% UP!!!”  The wheels are OFF in this class!  The other student are trying to calm him down, and I’m wondering if I’m about to get hit in the face.  

Then, Mercifully- the bell rings and everyone walks out happy as little clams (if clams could walk)- except for Jazz girl- who is a crying mess.  I give her a hug and say, “Are you okay?  You are okay- it’s fine.  You are fine.”  

Then I walked out and locked the door.

Adios SPED class! I won't be sad if I don't walk down this hall again.

snow day-no go day

 It's our annual snow day in North Texas.  T went outside and when she came in she said, "It's too cold out there, it makes my brain hurt."  Yes.  Yes to that.  We, as a state, are sorely underprepared for all winter outbreaks.

Of course, now that all things are shut down I feel an overwhelming need to get my eyebrows shaped and my hair cut.  For weeks- perhaps months I've been telling myself "I need to get this done." Alas, I rarely listen to the good advice I give myself.  So, here I am with wild bushy eyebrows and hair in need of serious attention.  Here I am also ice locked in the house for the next few days of winter.  As so as winter has passed the urgency of my hairiness will also pass.

As it turns out crazy bushy eyebrows are all the rage these days.