I love the feeling on the first Sunday of a vacation week when it seems like Saturday and I have no thoughts about work. Usually about this time on a Sunday I'm feeling some tension and trying to keep the work obligations at bay, and an hour or two from now the pre-Monday Blues would be in full control, making me crabby and frowny. I'm not a pleasant person at that point. Vacation euphoria, even when we aren't traveling anywhere, cancels out that mood so I can be my relatively pleasant and unpressured self for a few days. Woo hoo!! (<= a sentiment I'm sure my spouse feels too!)
Not long ago I was involved in a conversation with some high school students who were voicing the same question I've heard for years: how can anyone stand to be in a long-term relationship without being bored to tears? I can see the puzzlement and pity on their faces when they realize that my husband and I have not only taught forever, but that we've also been married even longer. They must think that we're both daft to have stayed together this long. I think the issue has several parts to it, one being the speed with which they live their lives, and another being the high percentage of marriages in our culture that end in divorce. Teenagers don't truly understand longevity because their lives haven't been long enough to let them live it, in most cases. Some of them understand the concept because their family has lived in the same house all their lives, or they have frequent and direct contact with people who are much older and who have stable lives. Most of them, at least in this community, don't. Divorce rates around here mirror national averages, and the death of a parent happens now and then too, so those factors are typical. Because my husband and I work in the same business and even in the same building, many of the kids know both of us, but because we're at work, the behaviors they see aren't typical of a husband and wife at home. Within some bounds, I'll talk with the kids who are seriously contemplating this issue about the fact that a marriage and a home life are not necessarily static but quite dynamic as time passes. I don't usually get into the details about how love changes over time because that's more than they need to know, but I'll talk about how finances, tastes, running a household, portioning out chores, the needs for space, or relationships in general can change, and how I've/we've rolled with the changes. I know that what they're hearing, in many cases, doesn't reflect what they see in their own homes, so it's a crap shoot whether what I tell them makes them feel better or worse in the short run, but my intent is to give them another perspective from people they know and have seen functioning pretty well during their high school years.
One of the changes that took me by surprise not long ago is some of my husband's preferences in foods. He used to prefer large hunks of pasta (medium sized shells, ziti, etc.) and fairly plain meat and potatoes. He's always loved a refrigerator full of leftovers, and he enjoys eating the same dish or the same meal over and over, day after day. About two months ago, he began voicing some variations in his requests. Could we have something other than turkey for Christmas dinner because (surprise!) he doesn't really like turkey that much? Hmmm, sure, we'll have a nice hot buffet with ham and Italian meatballs as the centerpieces, no problem. Can I not make so many dishes with plain meat, especially pork and chicken, in them? This wasn't as much of a surprise when I looked back at the fact that he typically requested leftover plain meats to be cut up and served in some kind of sauce or gravy that he could then pour over his mashed potatoes. Since then I've made sure there was a way, with sauce, to serve the meat and use up any leftovers too. Could I please use smaller pieces of pasta in dishes that include pasta? Wow, this was new. He raved about the tuna casserole made with small elbow macaroni, and he was delighted with the American chop suey made with tiny seashell pasta, even though the only difference was the size of the pasta. That's fine with me: I've never liked large pasta. Now I have to figure out how to make turkey, one of my favorite meals, more appealing to him. With gravy (and LOTS of stuffing), in a casserole, in a thick soup or stew.... any other suggestions?
Sunday, February 22, 2009
Thursday, February 19, 2009
A little relief
There's good news about my class from hell. One student is out, taking a correspondence course for 9th grade English with the guidance of the Learning Center, and if he passes that with a 70%, he'll be eligible for summer school for his grade 10 English credit. If he's successful at that, he'll be in line to enter grade 11 with his class. Do I think he'll accomplish all of this? Highly unlikely. We've given him the last of his chances to succeed, and if he won't do his part, then he's in a tough situation. At least he's not poisoning this class with his vile language, his disrespect of his classmates and teacher, and his refusal to do any assignments that involve reading which, in effect, assures his failing status in the class.
The other yahoo is still in limbo. He and his mother attended a meeting with all of his teachers, his guidance counselor, the vice principal, and his mentor, but the meeting was surreal. His mother vacillated between accusing the school of making him lose his desire to succeed and explaining to us that she's sure he has ADHD and she will have him coded (in reality, something that can only happen after a series of tests administered by professionals) like she was when she was in school because that worked for her. She described a self-contained Special Education room in which students worked alone in cubicles on their assignments while they were supervised by someone walking behind them as though that would work for this boy who craves an audience for his incredibly immature behavior. She just doesn't get it. So while some definitive action waits in the wings, again, he attends classes and checks in with his mentor each day to report to her about his behavior in his classes. I think I'll be giving her my version each day, too, just for a balanced view. I've decided to step things up a bit since he failed three more quizzes and a test, and his juvenile antics are continuing. I'm requesting that he be evaluated for inclusion in Special Education services, and that his claim, "I can read the words but I can't remember anything I read, so what's the use," be investigated. Maybe then someone can get to the root of his reading comprehension problems and he'll be put in a more appropriate English class.
Winter Carnival is upon us. Members of each grade level take part in a variety of competitive activities, they dress according to various themes each day, and they supposedly have fun. Many kids do, and quite a few don't. Lots of kids stay home, either because it's too much noise and confusion for them to handle, or they've chosen not to be part of the events so they don't feel they need to attend school that day. A few kids should stay home but they come in, get jazzed up, roam around, get out of hand, and are sent home. The rest throw themselves into events like crab soccer, geography bowl, volleyball, ultimate frisbee, Wii bowling, Twister, jello slurping, coloring, and snow sculpture competitions. Students say they love Winter Carnival, but if a legitimate survey were taken, I'd be surprised if more than half of the student body said they liked it for any reason other than it gets them out of classroom time for parts of two days and all of one day. At least it's another day we big kids get to wear jeans to school, and we get to take on different roles like running the buzzer system or judging the photography contest. It's a long day, but at its end, we'll be ON VACATION!!!
The other yahoo is still in limbo. He and his mother attended a meeting with all of his teachers, his guidance counselor, the vice principal, and his mentor, but the meeting was surreal. His mother vacillated between accusing the school of making him lose his desire to succeed and explaining to us that she's sure he has ADHD and she will have him coded (in reality, something that can only happen after a series of tests administered by professionals) like she was when she was in school because that worked for her. She described a self-contained Special Education room in which students worked alone in cubicles on their assignments while they were supervised by someone walking behind them as though that would work for this boy who craves an audience for his incredibly immature behavior. She just doesn't get it. So while some definitive action waits in the wings, again, he attends classes and checks in with his mentor each day to report to her about his behavior in his classes. I think I'll be giving her my version each day, too, just for a balanced view. I've decided to step things up a bit since he failed three more quizzes and a test, and his juvenile antics are continuing. I'm requesting that he be evaluated for inclusion in Special Education services, and that his claim, "I can read the words but I can't remember anything I read, so what's the use," be investigated. Maybe then someone can get to the root of his reading comprehension problems and he'll be put in a more appropriate English class.
Winter Carnival is upon us. Members of each grade level take part in a variety of competitive activities, they dress according to various themes each day, and they supposedly have fun. Many kids do, and quite a few don't. Lots of kids stay home, either because it's too much noise and confusion for them to handle, or they've chosen not to be part of the events so they don't feel they need to attend school that day. A few kids should stay home but they come in, get jazzed up, roam around, get out of hand, and are sent home. The rest throw themselves into events like crab soccer, geography bowl, volleyball, ultimate frisbee, Wii bowling, Twister, jello slurping, coloring, and snow sculpture competitions. Students say they love Winter Carnival, but if a legitimate survey were taken, I'd be surprised if more than half of the student body said they liked it for any reason other than it gets them out of classroom time for parts of two days and all of one day. At least it's another day we big kids get to wear jeans to school, and we get to take on different roles like running the buzzer system or judging the photography contest. It's a long day, but at its end, we'll be ON VACATION!!!
Friday, February 13, 2009
Friday the 13th
A friend of mine is a 13, so I wish him a happy day today.
I'm sipping a mug of Ghirardelli hot mocha as I sit here typing, my reward to myself for enduring another day with the yahoos. Despite promises from administration and guidance staff, two students who are failing my English class and who refuse to read are still sitting in my class on a daily basis, distracting other students, making noises while others try to do their work, interrupting class discussions with childish comments, and complaining that school should be optional and reading shouldn't be expected. Keep sending them out with behavior reports, I'm told, and that'll bring results. Nope. One of them has been tossed from my class four times in less than three weeks, and his punishment consists of a half school day sitting in a vacant office copying school rules from the handbook and an hour of time cooling his heels after school lets out. I was told after his third ejection that one more time would mean his exit to a school for troubled youth in the next school district north of us. Well, he earned that fourth discipline report today (refusing to put away a ping pong ball that he was bouncing on his desk during Silent Sustained Reading, being argumentative when told to keep his hand out of the pocket where he hides his cellphone which I'd seen him using, and continuing to talk after being told twice directly to stop while others were trying to complete a quiz), and my money says he'll be back in my class after a one-day ISS again. Neither of these kids will read. You'd think I'd asked them to swallow fire. They won't even pay attention when I read aloud to them. Usually even the laziest of students will be quiet and listen when someone else is doing the work for them, but not these two.
Mr. Four Discipline Reports is the one who failed English 9, but because of some deal made by the principal, he was allowed to take English 10 without first having passed English 9. He has also failed the first semester of English 10, so there's no record that this kid has the skills or ability to pass any level of high school English. He thinks that the two paragraphs that he wrote in class during the first week of the term should earn him a passing grade for the year, and all this other stuff like reading, tests, quizzes, vocabulary work, appropriate participation in class discussion, and essay writing are unnecessary. The other one (BT) needs direct remedial help, and he sees our reading specialist twice a week, but according to some test score the guidance director cites, he's too capable to be placed in remedial English. Apparently those tests don't measure ability to comprehend what he reads or what is read to him, and to find the answer from that reading when he has the question right in front of him. He can't do it, even when he seems to want to do so. What he's really good at is getting attention by using baby talk, waving at others in the class, making odd comments during class discussion, using his wristwatch to reflect sunlight into people's eyes, shuffling newspapers loudly during SSR, and talking back as I turn away from him. I wonder which employers will pay him big bucks to do that on a regular basis. I was told this afternoon that his mother said she just needs a computer and then she'll home school him. I laughed myself to tears when I heard that one. Good luck to her! Let's see....don't I have an old computer around here that I could donate to the cause?
How sad that so much of my energy has to be spent on a couple of 15 and 16 year old children who clearly don't want to succeed - by the school's and state's standards - which leaves me less energy to spend on those students who clearly DO want to learn and who need the help.
So here I sit in a lovely warm chocolatey haze of pleasure, knowing that I have almost three full days ahead of me without seeing or thinking about those two. Ahhhhhh!
I'm sipping a mug of Ghirardelli hot mocha as I sit here typing, my reward to myself for enduring another day with the yahoos. Despite promises from administration and guidance staff, two students who are failing my English class and who refuse to read are still sitting in my class on a daily basis, distracting other students, making noises while others try to do their work, interrupting class discussions with childish comments, and complaining that school should be optional and reading shouldn't be expected. Keep sending them out with behavior reports, I'm told, and that'll bring results. Nope. One of them has been tossed from my class four times in less than three weeks, and his punishment consists of a half school day sitting in a vacant office copying school rules from the handbook and an hour of time cooling his heels after school lets out. I was told after his third ejection that one more time would mean his exit to a school for troubled youth in the next school district north of us. Well, he earned that fourth discipline report today (refusing to put away a ping pong ball that he was bouncing on his desk during Silent Sustained Reading, being argumentative when told to keep his hand out of the pocket where he hides his cellphone which I'd seen him using, and continuing to talk after being told twice directly to stop while others were trying to complete a quiz), and my money says he'll be back in my class after a one-day ISS again. Neither of these kids will read. You'd think I'd asked them to swallow fire. They won't even pay attention when I read aloud to them. Usually even the laziest of students will be quiet and listen when someone else is doing the work for them, but not these two.
Mr. Four Discipline Reports is the one who failed English 9, but because of some deal made by the principal, he was allowed to take English 10 without first having passed English 9. He has also failed the first semester of English 10, so there's no record that this kid has the skills or ability to pass any level of high school English. He thinks that the two paragraphs that he wrote in class during the first week of the term should earn him a passing grade for the year, and all this other stuff like reading, tests, quizzes, vocabulary work, appropriate participation in class discussion, and essay writing are unnecessary. The other one (BT) needs direct remedial help, and he sees our reading specialist twice a week, but according to some test score the guidance director cites, he's too capable to be placed in remedial English. Apparently those tests don't measure ability to comprehend what he reads or what is read to him, and to find the answer from that reading when he has the question right in front of him. He can't do it, even when he seems to want to do so. What he's really good at is getting attention by using baby talk, waving at others in the class, making odd comments during class discussion, using his wristwatch to reflect sunlight into people's eyes, shuffling newspapers loudly during SSR, and talking back as I turn away from him. I wonder which employers will pay him big bucks to do that on a regular basis. I was told this afternoon that his mother said she just needs a computer and then she'll home school him. I laughed myself to tears when I heard that one. Good luck to her! Let's see....don't I have an old computer around here that I could donate to the cause?
How sad that so much of my energy has to be spent on a couple of 15 and 16 year old children who clearly don't want to succeed - by the school's and state's standards - which leaves me less energy to spend on those students who clearly DO want to learn and who need the help.
So here I sit in a lovely warm chocolatey haze of pleasure, knowing that I have almost three full days ahead of me without seeing or thinking about those two. Ahhhhhh!
Saturday, February 7, 2009
What they don't know
I'm married to a jock but I don't live and breathe sports as he does. However, I do know a bit about a sport or two. ("You're kidding....you've heard of cricket?")
I'm taller/not as tall as you think I am. For some reason, my actual height of 5' 8" seems to surprise almost anyone I first know at a distance when they meet me face to face.
I tend to be a moderate Democrat. Apparently some of my hard-core Republican friends ignore that fact. (Today a friend urged me to call my Republican friends and reps to support a very right-wing bill.)
I listen, and what I hear I tend to remember. Unfortunately, when it comes to promises, I'm sometimes the only one who remembers. (If I'd waited for the person who offered to put the registration stickers on my license plates, I'd be paying a hefty fine by now.)
Procrastination is my middle name.... after Lee, that is. Other than here at home, I seem to hide that fact well. I'm not sure why...food for thought another time, perhaps.
I believe in rules and being ready to accept the consequences if I decide to break them. (No, I'm not into self-incrimination, so there's no example here.)
A certain amount of tension makes me feel alive, but too much stress can almost paralyze me and it makes me speak in extremes. ("Never again" and "I just can't do this any more" come to mind.) If you think there's a relationship between this statement and the one about procrastination, you'd be right part of the time.
When people don't trust my professional judgment in circumstances in which they should, and the outcomes aren't good or the situation continues to fester, I become bitter. There isn't much that can be done in recompense if the truth of the matter is finally acknowledged, and it's rare that I forget the offense. I know I should let it go, but more often than not it stays with me like a scar.
One heart-felt, spontaneous compliment can keep my spirits soaring for days. The use of the word "really" seals the deal. A new necklace design, the way a light blue sweater looks on me, a simple suggestion I made to avoid a difficult problem, the chicken dish I made last week...they've each inspired favorable comments that still make me smile, and I adore that kind of warmth.
As much as I enjoy investigating new things, I do that from a firm seat amid the predictable. I'm death on becoming stagnant, but I move forward only when there's a solidity behind me. That means I'm not terribly adventuresome (aka avant-garde) but I never want the moss to grow over me or the rust to set in so I can't move. (There's probably a name for this mindset. Pseudo-bravery? ) To some who know me, I'm quite daring and forward-thinking, and to others, I'm stuck in a mire of tradition. That's okay: being in the middle between those two poles works for me.
Those really are freckles on the backs of my hands. They're not age spots. I don't age. :-)
I'm taller/not as tall as you think I am. For some reason, my actual height of 5' 8" seems to surprise almost anyone I first know at a distance when they meet me face to face.
I tend to be a moderate Democrat. Apparently some of my hard-core Republican friends ignore that fact. (Today a friend urged me to call my Republican friends and reps to support a very right-wing bill.)
I listen, and what I hear I tend to remember. Unfortunately, when it comes to promises, I'm sometimes the only one who remembers. (If I'd waited for the person who offered to put the registration stickers on my license plates, I'd be paying a hefty fine by now.)
Procrastination is my middle name.... after Lee, that is. Other than here at home, I seem to hide that fact well. I'm not sure why...food for thought another time, perhaps.
I believe in rules and being ready to accept the consequences if I decide to break them. (No, I'm not into self-incrimination, so there's no example here.)
A certain amount of tension makes me feel alive, but too much stress can almost paralyze me and it makes me speak in extremes. ("Never again" and "I just can't do this any more" come to mind.) If you think there's a relationship between this statement and the one about procrastination, you'd be right part of the time.
When people don't trust my professional judgment in circumstances in which they should, and the outcomes aren't good or the situation continues to fester, I become bitter. There isn't much that can be done in recompense if the truth of the matter is finally acknowledged, and it's rare that I forget the offense. I know I should let it go, but more often than not it stays with me like a scar.
One heart-felt, spontaneous compliment can keep my spirits soaring for days. The use of the word "really" seals the deal. A new necklace design, the way a light blue sweater looks on me, a simple suggestion I made to avoid a difficult problem, the chicken dish I made last week...they've each inspired favorable comments that still make me smile, and I adore that kind of warmth.
As much as I enjoy investigating new things, I do that from a firm seat amid the predictable. I'm death on becoming stagnant, but I move forward only when there's a solidity behind me. That means I'm not terribly adventuresome (aka avant-garde) but I never want the moss to grow over me or the rust to set in so I can't move. (There's probably a name for this mindset. Pseudo-bravery? ) To some who know me, I'm quite daring and forward-thinking, and to others, I'm stuck in a mire of tradition. That's okay: being in the middle between those two poles works for me.
Those really are freckles on the backs of my hands. They're not age spots. I don't age. :-)
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