First day of "Summer"

Yesterday was graduation.

I haven't been to a high school graduation since I was in high school.

Yesterday My school pushed more than 600 graduates through in two hours.    It was at Globe Life Park.  The section I was guiding was just behind home plate.  The graduation stage was past 3rd base.  

Fortunately, the graduates didn't have to run the bases, they left the stands and then came out through the tunnels the players use to get on the field. The families sat in the balcony seats.  

There has been severe weather in the area for several days now- but it held off for my school's graduation.  

I don't get to know a lot of students.  I have small classes, and I see each student twice in a week.  Instead of having six classes of thirty students each, I have essentially three classes of 15 students each. 

Sometimes I have a great relationship with my students, and sometimes I want to strangle them.  I teach freshmen- and they are all immigrants, so some of them move away before they graduate, some of them drop out to get jobs.

I volunteered for graduation this year because a few awesome students from my class graduated this year. 

One student had studied English in her country, but in an English as a foreign language kind of way.  She came to the USA and took English 1 and English 2 her first year.  In her second year she took English 3 and 4, in addition to all her other required classes.  She rocked them all and got a FULL scholarship to an excellent private university.  

The other student did not study English in his country.  He got here through unbelievable hardship.  He followed the same course of study, worked hard and his English is so good now.  

Many of the students at my school are amazing individuals.  Some of them will become thugs- like the kid who was failing my (regular/non-immigrant) class- 

I said, "Hey- what you doing? You know you have to pass English class to graduate right? What do you want to do when you finish HS?"  

His repy- "I dunno miss- prolly f*ck around and drop a body."

I have a student this year who is a first-year immigrant. She started school in the USA for the first time in August 2023.  She clearly had studied English in her country.  She is smart and motivated- and she pulls other students up with her. On her first STAAR test (TX standardized test for students) she Mastered the English 1 content.  14% of Texas students mastered their English 1 STAAR.  14% of ALL TEXAS STUDENTS mastered the content, and one of them was my super sweet first-year immigrant student from a third-world country.  💖

Happy summer to me- and all amazing and less amazing students!

That time the little guy deserved the beat-down

There are these two kids in my class- who are let's say "lively." Neither on of them does enough work to pass, they are both loud, problematic, disrespectul boogers. I make an effort to keep them seperated for the most part because they love to antagonize one another. One of them, I'll call him Rafael, is a big kid. He's nearly 6 feet tall, he works out and likes to show it. He's a big guy and he likes to try to intimidate the other students. Sometimes he just messes with them like a little kid would- He is very physical with the other kids, and mostly they don't like him. I don't think he's a bad kid- but he has too much energy and not enough strategies to deal with it. He's not interested in school or academic success at this time. The other one, I'll call him Donatello- is a little wirey kid. He looks like he might way 100 pounds and he's about as tall as my 12 year old daughter. He's loud and obnoxious, and although he is capable, refuses to do enough work to pass the class. Some of the other kids think he's funny because although he is rude and annoying they seem to think his antics are entertaining. Also, because he is small he is generally nonthreatening. Earlier this week Rafael left the room for some nefarious quest (I know this becase the associate principal called to let me know he had foiled Rafael's plans and was sending him back to my room.) While Rafael was out I saw Donatello messing with a backpack. I said, "Hey, is that your backpack?" He said, "Yes!" I didn't really believe him, but I also didn't know- so I didn't press the matter. A little later I saw Donatello pull a blue-tooth speaker out of the backpack. I knew that speaker belonged to Rafael, and I also felt confident that Rafael did not give Donatello permission to mess with it. I thought, 'This is going to cause a fight.' Then I thought, 'That kid (the little one, Donatello) deserves a beat-down.' Then I went on living my life. Later Rafael came back to the room. Things were quiet, until Rafael discovered that the speaker was missing from his backpack. The two boys started getting in each others faces, and not yelling, but making quiet threats to one another. I said, "Hey! You two! Don't fight in my room! Get out of here! Go somewhere else if you are going to fight!" They both looked at me like I was kind of crazy. Teachers are supposed to tell you to fight (somewhere else.) But I knew they were going to do it anyway, so it was no use telling them not to fight. So they backed away from each other and I went back to my work, but when I looked up again there they were back in each other's faces, quietly making threats. I said, "Hey! Back away! Sit down!" Just then the Donatello drops to the floor holding his stomach and groaning. Now this was interesting. I was looking at them, but I never saw the punch. I didn't see any movement at all until the drop. It was like a perfect shiv in the prison yard- some of the skills these kids have are frightening. So Donatello- he's a drama-wolf- that's like a boy who crys wolf and a drama queen at the same time. So he laying on the floor groaning and I'm thinking, 'Did Rafael really punch him?' So I start walking over to check it out when suddenly Donatello jumps up off the floor, picks up a chair and throws it at Rafael! It's a regular TV talk show up in here! I say, "That's it! Get out of my room! Get out right now!" Rafael just stands there looking at the chair on the floor. Donatello starts packing up his bag, but then he says, "No." I said, "What do you mean, 'No?'" I was thinking he better get out of there before Rafael took his head off. But he said, "No." and sat down. Rafael told me Donatello had his speaker in his bag. I had completely forgotten about the speaker. I knew Rafael was right. I said, "Give it to him." To my surprise Donatello takes the speaker out of his bag and throws it on the table. I felt sure he would deny having it. I told them I was calling security. They both insisted the other one started it. I told them they needed to tell their associate principles their stories. Then they told me they were fine and the fight was over. I told them it was too late for that- they had to go. Only one security officer came, so he had to escort them out one at a time. He took the big on first, and the little one said, "Ha-Ha he has to go first!" I said, "He's comeing back for you!" So- I had a few quiet days while they were both suspended- but they'll be back this week- ready to steal and punch and throw chairs and be vulger. Who's counting down the days until school is out for the summer? That's me!

Chrystal from 7th grade

There are some names, which even as an adolescent, I thought sounded flagitious. Just kidding.  I only learned that word today, and truthfully, it is not exactly the word that I want to use.  Flagitious means criminal or villainous.  It is a synonym for nefarious. I want a word that means, "Your name sounds like your mom expected you to grow up to be a pole dancer."  I found the words "unchaste" and "licentious" but those are about sexually driven behaviors. I mean- maybe a pole dancer is unchaste and licentious, but let's give them the benefit of the doubt.  (Are there male pole dancers?!)

In my search for the best word to start this blog, I found a phrase- "not cricket."  The definition is "something contrary to traditional standards of fairness or rectitude." So then I had to look up rectitude.  That means "morally correct behavior or thinking; righteousness". So- now we are getting somewhere in this story-

I begin:

Yesterday a memory about Chrystal from 7th grade came into my head.  Thinking about Chrystal made me think about Desiree, which made me think about Amber.  These are all girls I knew in 7th grade.  All girls who I thought, because of their names (only) were " not cricket."  It's terrible to judge people based on their names alone- they didn't even choose their names- but the fact was I was a pretty judge-y kid.  

I was also "not cricket" in the ways that I treated Chrystal.  Poor soul. Sorry Chrystal, wherever you are.

One day my friend and I were in the locker room talking about our mothers' ages. Who knows why? I was 12, so I said, "My mom is 39.  My friend said, "My mom is 37."  Chystal, who was not involved in the conversation chimed in and said, "Your moms are so old!"  

I said, "What? No, they're not!  Those are normal ages for moms!" (like moms have normal ages)

She said, "My mother is 28."

I said, "That's not true, do you mean your mom was 28 when you were born?"

She said, "No, she's 28 right now."

I said, "Your mom's 28, and you're 12?"

"Yeah."

"So, your mom was 16 when you were born?"

"Yeah."

"Wow."

She goes on, "My grandmother is 44."

Me: "Are you sure?"

Her: "Yeah!"

Me: "You probably shouldn't tell people that."

Her: "Why not?"

Me: "Because it's a pattern."

Her: "What are you talking about?"

Me: "Your mom had you when she was 16."

Her: "Yeah."

Me: "Your grandmother had your mom when she was 15."

Her: "Yeah."

Me: "Are you going to have a baby when you are 15 too?"

Her: "Of course not.  I'm going to college."

And here's where things go off the rails.

Me: "No, you're not."

Her: "Yes, I am.  I have a plan."

Me: "They won't let you in college if you get caught fighting in school."

Her: "I never fight in school!"

Me: "You just fought with me."

Her: "No, I didn't."

I look at my friend, "Did you just see her start a fight with me?"

My friend: "Yeah."

Me: "See?"

Her: "You can't do that!  You'll get in trouble for fighting too!"

Me: "So what, I'm not going to college."

She starts crying, "I want to go to college! I can't go to college if I get in trouble for fighting!  Don't fight with me!"

I felt bad.  I say, "Crystal, I'm just kidding.  I'm not going to fight you. Anyway, you can still go to college even if you do get in trouble for fighting.  We are in 7th grade!"

She's all hysterical now, "No!  If I get a bad report on my school record I can never go to college!"

I say, "Chrystal, calm down- everything is fine- let's go.  I'm not going to fight you."

Every day after that Chrystal looked at me like a scared rabbit.  Like I was the ruination of the dreams of generations.  

If she was annoying me I'd hold up my fist and she'd leave.

I bet she was super happy when I moved away at the end of 7th grade.

Lost in the chaos

I can't find the paddle that kneads the bread in my bread machine.  I felt compelled to let someone know this was my dilemma. Inshallah that is my only problem right?

It is not my only problem.  The big picture is that there are a lot of things in my house that I need to get rid of.  The detail in that picture is that everyone in my family is a saver.  We want to save everything- 

"I can use this!"

"I can make something out of that!" 

"Can I have that?" 

"Why?!"

"I like it."

"Why did you bring that home?"

"It was free."

"I found it".

"It's still good!"

"What's it good for?"

"I don't know.  Yet!"

"PUT THAT BACK IN THE TRASH!!"

It's my own fault.  I say, "Hey, look at the cool rock!"  They say, "I want it!"  Now I have approximately 537 rocks in my house.

Perhaps my bread machine kneading paddle is in with the rocks.

My third grade teacher was right

 When I was in third grade my favorite teacher, Mrs. Richmond, told us that even though we had to learn the imperial measuring system, we also had to learn the metric system.  She was sure that by the time we grew up the whole USA would use the metric system exclusively.  

Here's me now-

I got a call from the doctor after the ultrasound.  The doctor said, "The ultrasound shows that you have a large ovarian cyst on the left measuring 13 centimeters and several small ones on the right measuring 3-5 centimeters each.  We have scheduled you for an MRI."  Then she said the thing that no woman wants to hear- "And someone ate all the tacos."  

No- that's not what she said.  She said, "I've recommended you to a gynecological oncologist."

So I said, "Okay."

And that was the end of the conversation.

Next, I had to think about how big 13 centimeters is.  Mrs. Richmond would be disappointed.  I pulled out my ruler.  I looked at the metric side and measured to 13.  I looked at it and thought- 'Is this big for an ovarian cyst?  seems pretty small to me.'  Then I realized that I had measured 13mm, not 13cm.

Then I measured 13cm and found it was about 5 inches.  I still don't know what that means.  13cm long?  13cm diameter?  I don't know.  

I got the MRI- that was an event I'd rather not experience.

I had made an appointment with my gynecologist a month before when I had experienced the pain the last time.  (It took that long to get in.)  So I told her all my issues and showed her all my test results, and she told me what she thought it was and suggested that I "get rid of everything."  She said, "you're almost 50, you don't need it!"  

That sounded good to me.  

When I went to talk to my surgeon, he said, "So- if we are going by the book I'd leave an ovary in if it isn't damaged."

I said, "Why?"

He said, "For hormones. Research suggests that women who start menopause surgically are at higher risks for several illnesses."

I said, "But I'm 50."  When does menopause start for most women?

He said, "Between 52-54."  

I said, "My gynecologist recommended that you take it all, and I'm okay with that."

He said, "Who is your gynecologist?"

I said, "Dr. Udell."

He said, "Kim Udell?"

I said, "Yeah."

He said, "She would say that." 

He said, "You can decide, but going by the book, I'd leave one."

I said, "Okay- take it all."

In the end, the surgeon decided that although he was  "pretty sure" that the cysts were not cancer, he didn't want to rupture them just in case.  Since the cyst was so large he said he couldn't do the surgery laparoscopically, nor could he do it vaginally.  He also said he would normally do the surgery in the same manner as a C-section, but since I have had 4 C-sections already, he thought there was too much scar tissue.  

So ... I have 9-10 inch scar from my belly button all the way down to my C-section scar.

The doctor said the recovery would be similar to a C-section.  

I disagree.

It was terrible.

It still hurts more than 6 weeks later.

But- I'm mostly healed and optimistic for the new year- just a few organs lighter.

the tech with no poker face

It started over the summer. Well- I'm sure it started a good bit before that, but I noticed it this past summer. 

 One evening I was lying in bed reading a book (I did that a lot over the summer- it was pretty great.) when I started feeling uncomfortable. Like abdominal cramps and back pain at the same time. I thought maybe I had been lying in bed reading too long. 

 I got up and walked around, went to the bathroom, got a drink- but nothing seemed to help. I took some painkillers. I felt like laying down should help, as it does when I have menstrual cramps or gas pains, but laying down seemed to make it worse. I got up and walked around, sat in a chair, sat in a recliner, and went back to the bathroom- back to the bedroom. 

 It was a particular pain. 

 It came out of the blue- everything had been fine, then discomfort slid into pain within minutes. I started feeling sick to my stomach, I went to the bathroom again- just in time to vomit- but that didn't relieve the pain- and there went my painkillers. After about an hour the pain slid back into discomfort. I laid down and went to sleep. 

The whole episode had lasted not more than two hours. When I woke up- it was like the whole thing had never happened. It was strange, and I had no reference to compare it to. I just thought- "well, that was weird" and went about the rest of the summer. 

 School started in mid-August and I went to an all-day meeting on August 24th. The meeting was terminally boring- but something I am required to know and review every year. The after-lunch portion was a hands-on practice of how to use all the stuff we'd 'learned' in the morning session. I went to lunch, came back, sat down in my chair- and started feeling uncomfortable. I thought it was because of sitting all morning. 

My back was starting to cramp- and then my abdomen started to hurt too. Over the course of an hour, it went from uncomfortable to painful. Then, right on cue, I started feeling sick to my stomach. I told my principal, who was having a hard time following the meeting as well, that I wasn't feeling well and couldn't concentrate. She asked me if I wanted to leave. I said, no, I needed to pick up my kids at 3:30 anyway-so I may as well stay for the remainder of the meeting. Then the nausea hit- I quickly excused myself and barely made it to the restroom to vomit. When I came back to the meeting, I told her I had changed my mind and I needed to leave. 

By the time I had picked up my kids and made it home an hour later, I was feeling normal again. I noticed that I started my cycle on that day. 

 On September 25 I was teaching my last class of the day. I had been on my cycle for an unusually long 10 days already with heavy cramping and lots of discomfort. The pain started ramping up, and I could feel it not only in the lower back and lower center of my abdomen, but to the right side and shooting pain down my right leg- and this time I knew there was going to be a problem. I looked around in the hall to see if there was anyone who could step into my classroom. Several students asked if I was okay.

I was not. 

 I took a trash can to a storage closet in my room. In between talking about Shakespeare and Aristotle's definition of tragedy- I lost my lunch. 

 And that was the day I called the doctor. 

 I told her everything- and she said, "Maybe it's your gallbladder." I said, "My husband just had his gallbladder removed a few weeks ago, he described his pain very differently." She said, "It could be your appendix, your intestines- what did you eat before your pain?"

Skeptical me said, "One day nothing, one day pizza, and one day a peanut butter sandwich." 

She said, "Maybe it's the starchy foods getting to you." 

I just looked at her.  

She said, "I'll call in for a pelvic and abdominal ultrasound." 

 At the ultrasound, the tech was really chatty before she started. I was knitting in the waiting room, and she said she was learning to knit too and she showed me her scarf. She asked me if my bladder was full, and since I thought I was about to pee my pants I told her it was very full. 

 She got started and said, "Ah- it is full, but not full enough for me!" Then she proceeded to press on all my parts all around the bladder- so she could save pressing on my bladder last. 

Ugh. I think I peed a little bit on her table when she jabbed her instrument into my bladder in the end.

She was quiet during the exam. I didn't want to chat because I was really concentrating on not peeing- and I wanted her to focus on her work. 

 By the time she was finished, I knew she had found something. Instead of being chatty again- she wiped off the goop and said, "I'm done, the exit is that way" and walked out. It must be hard to be in the medical business when you don't have much of a poker face.

This is in fact my circus

 I had a professional observation today.  

This is how it went-

Imagine you are a monkey handler in a circus.  

You only speak English, but the monkeys insist they only understand monkey talk.  However, you know that they know more than they are letting on.

The monkeys don't remember anything you've ever said. In fact, maybe you never even said anything, ever before.  Who are you? Have the monkeys ever seen you before?

So, when you say, 'Remember last time when we did X?" they just look at you with their blank little monkey eyes in their blank little monkey faces.  So innocent.

Then they turn on Tejano music on their phones, run away before the tardy bell rings, insist they don't understand anything, and either sit there looking forlorn and lost- or chatter incessantly with their monkey friends. While you find yourself saying things like, "Sit down. Put your phone away. Let go of his head! Do this work.  Pick up your pencil. No, this is not right, the answer is here- it's right here- just write this word on this line!"

I had a student from Poland once.  Whenever she met a problem, she would say, "Not my circus, not my monkeys"- a  Polish proverb meaning "this mess is not my problem, and the people causing the problem are not my concern."

The problem here is- it is my circus- and they are my monkeys.

I so look forward to the caustic feedback I'm going to get from this one.

the heat dome is a lot

 

Moth Night

 A conversation with my husband

Him: Tomorrow night is Moth Night

Me: It is not!

Him: Yes it is!  I sent you an email about it. It's Moth Night at the  ... you know ... moth museum.

Me: You're just making that up.

Him: I'm pulling up the email right now.

Me: We don't have a moth museum! You are ridiculous!

Him: Look at this! (passes the phone to me)

Me: "It's Moth Night at River Legacy Park Nature Area on July 25."  What? How is this even a thing?  

Him: The girls want to go to Moth Night.

Me: I can't go to MOTH NIGHT!  It's SHARK WEEK!   Who puts Moth Night in the middle of Shark Week?  You should take them to Moth Night!

Him: I can't.  

Me: Why NOT!?

Him: I have a meeting.

Me: You have a meeting at 8:30PM?

Him: I don't know how long it will last.

Me: UGH- what kind of meeting?

Him: City Council.

Me: I seriously question the leadership of this city.  First, they put Moth Night in the middle of Shark Week, then they schedule a city council meeting on MOTH NIGHT!?  I didn't vote for this.

Do yourself

Do yourself

 In 2007 my friend M gave me a sketchbook.  She had lived in Korea for years, and we had decided together to learn how to draw.  On the front cover it says, "Do yourself. Nobody is invited on your life.  Fill out your own style." (Sidenote- I do love a foreign-made product with silly English sayings on it.)

In the beginning 

The cider was better

So we each got a copy of the same drawing book, and we would go to restaurants, coffee shops, and parks to draw.  Based on the dates of the drawings we did this on and off for about a year.  We even took ourselves on a field trip and tried to draw 'en plein aire.' I would like to note that neither of us were gifted artists. I think that made the whole process even better.  I have always believed in continually doing something you aren't especially good at.  I think it keeps you honest.

We signed up for a class at the community college and although we went to the class faithfully all session- I can't say we got much better.

I'm not sure exactly what happened in May of 2008, but there is only one undated drawing after that.  

I say I'm not sure 'exactly,' because I remember the broad strokes of things that happened- and in the end M and I were not friends anymore.  I stopped drawing in my little Korean notebook.  But I kept it.  I moved it around from apartment to apartment to house, to duplex to house to house.  Here it is.  Sitting on my shelf 1/3 of the pages used- until this year.  I decided to complete at least one of my sketchbooks.  I choose this one because it already had some pages complete because it is small- because every once in a while I think about M and wonder what she does in her free time these days.

check out my purse

I have been keeping myself busy with all my many hobbies, but lately, especially- I've been drawing.  Not working on getting better drawing, just enjoying the process.  I've also been enjoying my watercolors.  Here is a self-portrait from my little Korean notebook.  I gave myself short hair- feeling optimistic about getting my hair cut.  I also included my 'signature' red purse and my favorite necklace.

More recently I've started working on 'a drawing a day' onlineclass.  Below is today's drawing.  

Now I have about 10 more pages in this notebook, and I've set up a habit of making a small drawing each day.  I hope I can continue- and after this notebook is full I'm moving on to a notebook I started in 2016 as a prayer journal,  after reading a book called "Praying in Color."  Each time I made a drawing I would connect it to a bible verse or a specific concern I had been praying about.

Parsley, sage, rosemary, and Thyme

I'm looking forward to working on that.

Gen X in decline

 Some years ago I learned an acquaintance from college had terminal cancer.  He had made some mistakes, and in his last months, he was changing, apologizing, and working to get back to who he wanted to be.  His kids were young teens- he was the first (that I heard) of my peers passing.

Lately, the news of terminal illnesses and sudden endings has been coming more frequently.  My great friend Scott passed after a long illness.  Scott, who was by far the sweetest, kindest, most generous human I knew. He was long-suffering and Christlike.  He was forgiving and joyful even in the pain.  Scott is safe in Jesus but is sorely missed by many still here.

This past week I woke up at 5:50 and I was already thinking about Scott and his sister who misses him daily.  Then I thought of my friend from middle school, Jennifer.  Jen's long suffered the same illness as Scott.  She had never had it easy- her mom passed when she was a baby- she was the oldest of a very large and poor family.  She had experienced her own health problems for many years.  She had a son just out of high school.  It was just them for a long while, but then in her 30s she married and started her second family.  Her second son was meeting milestones until he was about 3 when he started to have trouble walking, and potty training gains reversed.  He was diagnosed with autism.  Around that time she lost a baby in a late-term miscarriage.  That was devastating, but not long after she had another son- he had Spina Bifida and was also later diagnosed with autism.  She had a fierce love for those boys- her husband left her, so she was alone to work, advocate for her special needs kids, and deal with her own health issues.  She was in and out of the hospital, with surgeries, long recoveries, treatments- general ill health, and still she fought with all her power to get everything for her kids. 

She passed on Easter Sunday.  

When I learned that she had passed I thought of another friend from high school who had recently announced on FB that she was fighting breast cancer.  She too has a long story of struggles.  Sexual and physical abuse destroyed her self-worth, and just when she had finally escaped to a happier place with her kids and her family- she gets this . . . As always she put on her armor  and stepped into the storm-

I tried to check on her via Facebook yesterday, but I no longer had access.  I don't know what that means.  I hope it means that she's decided to cull her friends list to people she regularly interacts with so that she can focus on her recovery.  

So, THANK YOU GOD for my personal health, and the health, and wellness of my husband and children.  THANK YOU for helping me grow and move through my own struggles.  GOD BLESS those struggling with health issues for themselves and their families.  Comfort, Calm, Rest, Understanding, a return of JOY, and Growth in YOU for my acquaintances, friends, and family who are struggling.

update local bucket list

 Last month I wrote a local bucket list- and I have been working on it- accomplished some things- not started many things.  I could add some things- 

Every day I try to do a few things- maybe just 10 minutes a day, but any little bit helps me not turn into mush.  

Every day I try to do these things for at least 10 minutes:

Draw and/or paint

Study a language (Spanish or French)

Read a book

Listen to the Bible in a Year podcast

The things I should tell myself to do every day?

Exercise

Clean the house

Fold the laundry

Organize my office

Work on future lesson plans

Bible study

Well, darling- summer is coming.  Here's what I know about summer when you are a school teacher- those seem to be the sweetest two months of the year.  Even sweeter because you have survived the school year.

I work at a Title 1 school, which means lots of low-income kids- which comes with challenges many people would never consider.  I came in having already considered them- being that I was a low-income kid myself.

Sweet-Hot-Lazy summer- I have never looked so forward to you!  Three weeks left of school.  Three.

Here's an unusual reason I'm looking forward to summer this year.  Pandemic residue.  I guess I didn't really process it at the time, but looking back on the pandemic I realize I was overwhelmed with all of it.  And the more overwhelmed I felt, the more it manifested in the house.  Things started piling up.  Papers, books, clothes, toys- things that need to be sorted and donated and tossed just sat around.  And the more stuff that sat around the more I looked at it and felt like giving up.  I couldn't make decisions about what to do with it.  Even when I did make a choice I couldn't effectively execute the plan.  

Now I'm looking at the mess- an embarrassing mess of stuff and thinking- summer is coming.  I'm going to say, "Thank you for your service, goodbye" to some things all over the house.  I HOPE. I really need to get started now- but I am also lazy.

I would like to take the girls on vacation.  I would love a beach- but a cooler beach- a northern beach. A cold water, warm sand nothing to do beach- but that's not really for kids- it's for me.  The kids want a something to do all the time vacation.  They want to go to Sicily to visit their cousins.  I want to do that too- but then money.  :) 

Here is my updated Bucket list

1. I have not  started a fire without matches or lighter- this seems like a summer activity

2. I have made one self portait. (1/7)

3. 13/24 books read

4. 18/52 blogs written

5. 18/49 pages left in an art journal which I had already started some years ago.

6. 162/300 days in Duolingo

7. Teacher cert- no progress X

8. Write a kid's book  X

9.  Acupuncture X

10.  Embroider Lord's prayer X

11. Baby booties X

12. James Method X

Giobunny

Sometimes I can't help but hear what people are talking about.  I heard a group of teens engaged in the following conversation- I came in after it had started.  

Girl: What do you know you don't know how it's supposed to be pronounced?!

Boy: It's supposed to be pronounced the American way because it's an American name.

Girl: What do you mean?

Boy: My mom spelled it like that so that it would be pronounced the American way.

Girl: So how does your mom say it?

Boy: She doesn't.  She doesn't speak English.

Girl: How can your mom not say it! What does she call you?

Boy: Oh, nobody at home calls me by my name.  Everyone calls me 'Bunny.'

Girl: 'Bunny?'  Why?

Boy: I don't know!  That's just what everyone has always called me.

I was trying to mind my own business, but sometimes people are too funny.

Bunny's name is Giovanni- which is the Italian form of John.  

In Spanish 'B' and 'V' are interchangeable in sound- the sound is slightly different from either the English /b/ or /v/.

Many bilingual students are blissfully unaware of the similarities and differences between English and Spanish.  They don't give any attention to cognates or near cognates, they have no recognition of similar and dissimilar sounds and spellings.  They recognize that Spanish is a far more transparent language, but that seems to be as far as it goes.

You're my favorite banana

 

I dreamed last night that I was at a large conference.  The venue was huge, in fact, I kept getting lost.  I was looking for someone.  I was anxious to find him since it has been a long time since we had met.  I looked and looked- but I couldn't find him.  I wandered all around, and even ended up in places outside of the conference zone.  

Finally, I found him.  He was dressed head to foot (including a hood that completely covered his face) in a suit that was loose and flowing, almost like a robe.  It was black, and it had smiling bananas wearing sunglasses and giving a thumbs up all over it.

Unphased by this unusual turn of events, I went to him.  I gave him a hug and said, "You're my favorite banana." Then I turned around and walked away, immediately to be lost again.

And what did I gain from this dream?  

It made me think that you needed to hear/read this today:  "Have I told you today that you're my favorite banana?"  You are.

The struggle-bus is here.

 When I first decided to teach high school, my husband said, “just don’t go to Sam Houston.” I didn’t even know where Sam Houston was or why I shouldn’t go there, but I put my application in to the district and two days before school started I got a call.  “Hi, this is the principal at Sam Houston High School, would you like to be a long term substitute for an English class here?”

I did want to be a long term sub, specifically in an English class, so I said, “Yeah, I can do that.”  I told my husband when he came home and he said, “Well, I hope you don’t get shot.”

I thought, ‘how bad can it be?’

It’s bad. It’s real bad. These kids are bad.

Good news: I have not been shot.

Bad news: There was a school shooting at another high school in the district this week.  I think this is the first for our district.  Two students were injured. One was shot, one hit by shrapnel.  The young man who was shot died.  The suspect was also a young man- just 15 years old.  The shots were reported at 6:55AM.  What does a 15 year old have to be so angry about at 6:55 AM?

As with any shooting like this- it is tragic- senseless- and scary.  

Of course all the schools are on high alert now.

Lamar is the lowest ranked high school in the district.  They are not the biggest, or the poorest, the one with the highest number of minority students, or English as a second language students.  All those categories go to Sam Houston High School.  Sam has 96.4 percent minority student population. More than 70% Hispanic.  We have the 93% on free or reduced lunch.  More than half the student population speak English as a second language.   We have an 88% graduation rate- and that is very loose- there is a reason a high school diploma doesn’t mean much these days.  Some of these students are graduating with an elementary reading level.  

These school are struggling-teachers, administrators and staff are working hard for these kids.

But there is a disconnect.

Maybe there always has been.

These kids don’t care.  They don’t even try.  They don’t even pretend to try.

I often wonder who these kids are going to become.  Will they wake up someday and say, “Actually, I do want to be successful.”  Or will they live and die in ignorance and poverty.

I know poverty.  I know they cycle- I know the hopelessness.  I know the discouragement.  I know the press of poverty.

But ignorance was never on the table.

My mom was on welfare, disabled, bipolar, didn’t graduate from high school, and she made quite a lot of bad life choices,  but she wasn’t ignorant.  

She learned from her mistakes and was willing to compel the ignorance right out of her children by force if needed.  I didn’t need force.  I believed her when she said I had better be good ‘or else.’  In fact, I didn’t even need the threat- I didn’t want to be in the place where we were- physically, emotionally, economically- I didn’t want to be there.  

Purim 3.7.23

 Purim was a few days ago.  I only know this because my aunt celebrated it with her bible study group.

The other night I had a dream and it was Purim.  I dreamed that I was at a Purim celebration, and many people were offering me food.  I was turning down all the food because it all had meat.  People were getting irritated with me because it was rude to not accept their offerings.  I told them it was only because I was a vegetarian.  They said, “Ah- okay so we will send you salads.”  

So they sent salads, but all the salads had bugs on top.  Roasted, fried, baked, dried, salted- crunchy bugs.

They were like bug croutons.  I said, “No thanks.”  People started getting mad again.

It seems unfair for people to get mad at me for not wanting to eat bugs.

Purim

Bugs

Local “bucket list’

 A few weeks ago I thought I should write down a ‘local bucket list.’  My real bucket list items are things which revolve around travel to far flung and interesting places- pricy things or experiences which I would like to do or have- but reality check- no moneys.

For a ‘local list’ I wanted to write things that I could do without leaving DFW, things that were inexpensive and really do-able.  

To get some ideas, I of course Googled it.  “Local Bucket List Ideas.”  

I found a list with lots of ideas, but it turns out most of the things which I would like to do on those lists . . . I’ve already done.

1. Make a journal

2. Write a blog

3. Make a loaf of bread

4. Ride a mechanical bull

5. Sing karaoke

6. Go to dinner alone

7. Read a classic

8. Be a tourist in your own town

9. Hug a redwood tree (not really local)

10. Handwrite a letter

11. Knit a scarf

12. Read the book before you watch the movie

Oooh here’s one from the list I could do: 

13. Start a fire without matches or a lighter- sounds like a challenge

I’m gonna start a new list.

1. Start a fire without matches or a lighter- Lailah the firebug would be glad to help me with this

2. Draw and paint a series of self portraits (at least 7)

3. Read 24 or more books in 2023 (I’ve completed 5 so far)

4. Write 52 or more blog posts in 2023 (I’ve completed enough to be ahead of schedule already I think)

5. Complete (use all the pages of) an art journal- someday- but for now complete 52 pages of an art journal because I don’t know how many pages the art journal I will choose will have

6. Get a 300 day streak on Duo lingo in 2023 (I currently have 100+)

7. Complete teacher certification process by this time next year

8. Write a kids book and get it illustrated  

9.  Try acupuncture

10. Embroider or cross-stitch the Lord’s Prayer

11. Knit or crochet 100 pairs of baby booties to donate (I have 5 so far)

12. Complete 52 James Method verse diagrams in 2023 (I have 2)

“It was a pleasure to burn.”

 I know someone here is reading.  There is a quote posted way high up in the hall that says, “It was a pleasure to burn.” #Bradbury

It seems today we’ve lost the ambition to even bother with the burning.  We just ignore the books.  What power can they have over the minds of young people who are psychologically attached to the little computers in their pockets?

I asked a student one time what was something she liked or didn’t like about her English class last year.  She said she had a to read a book about “Firemen who didn’t like to read” and that it didn’t make any sense.

Indeed, if that’s what she thought the book was about- I’m sure it didn’t make any sense at all.  

Maybe I should make a sampler of this quote.

Benchmark testing in the funny room

 Today the students are ‘benchmark testing.’ Which means they are testing to see how they are going to test when the ‘real’ testing is given.  It is surely testing overkill- but the great state of Texas has goals and dreams for her students.  

It’s terrible.  I’ve considered homeschooling more than once.  It’s still on the table.

Anyhoo- I’m facilitating in another teacher’s room- and while the decor should be something I am attracted do- considering how I like to decorate- it is actually making me slightly anxious.  

I wonder if someone else’s ‘out of control’ makes me nervous because my ‘out of control’ is so overwhelming.

My house is OUT OF CONTROL and overwhelming.  I feel like a horder.  There is way too much stuff.  

Back to the classroom- there are shiny stars hanging from the ceiling, college pendants on the walls, colorful motivational posters,  pictures,  shelves full of Knick-knacks, crafting materials, books, calculators, computers, pens, pencils, erasers.  There are trophies and purple accents all over the place. Clearly this teacher has spent a lot of time investing into the look of this room, and it’s killing me!

When/if I get my own classroom I would like it to be more like a living room, less like a circus tent.

The clogs of flatulence

 I bought a pair of gardening clogs some years ago.  

For some reason I’ve always been attracted to red shoes, but I have big feet, so when I put them on I feel like I have clown feet.  Red shoes seem to scream, “Hey! Look at me!  I’m enormous!”

Nevertheless,  I bought this pair of red rubber ‘garden clogs.’ I figured I could get my red shoe fix, but since I would only be wearing them around the house or in the rain it didn’t matter if they were clown shoes.  

I put them on, and they were quite comfy.  Of course if I wear them with socks that is kind of silly because they are intended to get wet.  They are clogs- they won’t really protect my socks.  For the most part I would wear them without socks.  Let’s say I’m wearing my garden clogs in the yard, and using the hose.  Let’s say some water gets on my foot.  No biggie if I’m wearing my red-rubber clogs.  

Here’s the catch- if my red rubber clogs get wet, and I’m not wearing socks- they fart With-EVERY-Step! Not demure little sighing toots, but big juicy-wet poots. (Side note I just looked up synonyms for “fart” and I found “barking spider” and “air biscuit.” I’m not even sure what to do with that information.)

Turns out I can’t deal with the juicy poots my shoes produce, so sadly I put them on the “donate” box.  I put the donate box in my car.  I have been driving around with my donate box for weeks.  This has happened before. I put the box in my car- I drive around with it- I need the space the box is taking up to transport something else- I take the box out and put it in the garage.  I forget about the box.  I find the box again, but now everything in the box needs to be washed.  I wash the contents of the box, then I re-evaluate the ‘to donate’ items.  I put the items back in the box (maybe)- then I put the box back in the car.  Its a cycle.  

Today I walked out of the house and it thundered.  I said to myself, “Self- this if fine.  I don’t need to go back in the house for a jacket, umbrella or a different pair of shoes.  I can make it to work before the rain comes.”  Myself was so wrong.  

Fun Fact:  I HATE wearing wet shoes.  Whenever it rains, I pack an extra pair of shoes,  I wear a pair of shoes I don’t mind getting wet, then change to dry shoes when I get to wherever I’m going.

By the time I got to work there had been multiple ‘severe thunderstorm warnings’ on the radio, it was pouring, and I was unprepared- “Thanks self!”

I got out of the car- I knew immediately I was going to have wet feet all day.  I remembered I had a jacket in the back.  I opened the hatch, put on the jacket and spied my red rubber garden clogs.  “Ah!” I thought to myself, “I don’t have to have wet feet all day!”  

However, I forgot after all these weeks about the juicy poots.

So I put my clown shoes on to walk into work,  (a high school mind you) and over the cacophony of the drumming rain and the booming thunder- I can hear the fast ripping ‘air biscuits’ issuing forth from my feet.  Its too late to turn back now- I’m committed to this journey of steady flatulence, into and all the way through the building.  I raspberry tart my way into the main office to sign in and get my assignment for the day from the assistant principal.

I make wind and part the seas in the hallways toward my room.  I try different steps to silence the the horns, but to no avail.  My feet fly on the wind, or so it seems.  I finally get to my room and immediately change my shoes.  

They really are clown shoes, tooting their horns everywhere they go- “LOOK AT ME! The MOST embarrassing shoes on the planet!”

I hope someone can wear them without the sounds of guttural disturbances following them, for these red shoes go back to the donate box ASAP!