tandem parking

Oh my god, Stephanie, get over yourself. It's not a double standard that I park in the top of the driveway twice a month because there are no other spots on the street and I leave at six thirty in the morning, but you park at the top of the driveway five times a week because you are too worried about your new car to move it all the way down. If anything, you are getting the better end of the deal, because MAYBE those two times a month you will have to park on the street, which might be a block away, but in the meantime, I have to park on the street every single day of the week.

And maybe you could clean up a little, too. Helping out around the house isn't "something we do in college," it's what you do when you live with other people. I swear that was her excuse when I suggested we each take one cleaning responsibility a week.

JAP?

break up quotes

I don't really have any secrets. I pretty much tell everybody everything. Including all the details of my personal life, things that are not always appropriate to share, or things that are not of the slightest interest to the listener. But I do anyways. And then I get feedback. Like:

• My mother, who has listened to every single detail of this ordeal and can therefor set me straight when I twist the story in my head: "You didn't do anything wrong. You did everything right. What fault do you have? That you're not telepathic?"
• Sophie, who is the best cheerleader in the world: "I don't understand! What do you mean, he broke up with you? I don't get it!" And then, when I try to explain that I don't know anything, that it came out of the blue, that I have as many details as she, "I just don't get it! Who would ever break up with you?!"
• Abbey, on the phone from Israel: "I am . . . [stuttering pause] . . . flummoxed! Is that the word? I'm pretty sure that's the right word. I think that's what I mean."
• Benja: "I told Mommy that if you guys get back together I'm going to write Jerm a really mean letter about how he can never hurt you again, and she said, 'Step in line.'"
  

happier?

My cousin / roommate Miriam is debating whether or not to drop the guy she is seeing because he refuses to kiss her. He claims he is germaphobic. We think he is just crazy.

She asked me if my life is better in any way now that I'm single, and I had to give that a long think. And then I composed a very short, very sad list:

1. I can keep my room a complete mess.
2. I don't feel the need to shower as often.
   
3. I don't stress about packing all my clothes and work stuff to sleep over.

At first, I was thinking, gosh, the relationship must have been absolutely perfect if there weren't any little things I had to give up or if there weren't any things I didn't like doing. But then I remembered all the stuff I talked about with my mom and with Phyllis, the stuff I wasn't getting but didn't notice because I was so fucking happy. I'm not getting any of that stuff now, either, which is why it didn't come to mind, but I do realize that I want those things the next time around, and I won't settle for anything less. Because if I do settle, then I will have a lot more to add to my list.

Germaphobic, my ass. He's a boy who needs to grow up already.

field trip

I have to admit that I had a really good day at school yesterday, despite crying and complaining about it with my mom and cousin in the evening. The kids were excited to see me -- a bunch of them even snuck up to the classroom before the bell rang. The field trip ran really smoothly, especially for me, since my class was split among three third grade groups, leaving me responsible for only six students. The remaining hour at school was successful -- they were held absolutely captive as I read and acted out poems from Jack Prelutsky's New Kid on the Block, and they played together nicely during Game Time. My angel/devil child held it together until only the last five minutes of school, when he chased a girl around the building and punched her in the face.

Perhaps the best moment came at the beginning of the day, and I say it was the best because it was the first piece of evidence that I have taught my students anything. We were exiting the freeway at Long Beach, into a commercial area filled with sparkley high-rise office buildings and hotels, and several of my students started shrieking my name, pointing their fingers out the windows, and yelling, "It's a urban! It's a urban!" A vocabulary word! Which has been learned, if not grammatically, then at least conceptually! This was followed by, "A skyscraper! Lot's of skyscrapers!" (also a vocab word), and, "Look, flowers, they are flourishing!" (this word refers to either flowers and children, I taught them).

It felt really good.

best transportation in the nation, my ass

*Sigh*

Oh, to have a comprehensive, color-coordinated subway system, instead of a comprehensive, color-coordinated freeway system.

ill pt four

Today I ate vegetables for the first time in four days. Not a lot, mind you, maybe a sum total of seven peas and half a carrot, but they were colored and chewy and had !!! taste !!! I also had another bowl of chicken soup and another snack pack of jello and another gallon or so of peppermint tea. In case you were curious.

I think it's safe to say that this mystery illness is on its way out. Good riddance! Tomorrow's field trip will be a huge test of my strength. I'm praying that it goes well not only for my mental sanity but also as a predictor of Thanksgiving dinner. If I can hold strong for five hours with kids, then I will be at least able to TASTE all the deliciousness of Thursday night, which means I will be able to eat the leftovers for reals all weekend. (I have to admit, sadly, that I will probably still be eating pureed or see-through food until Friday.)

I gave myself vacation from thinking about school for the past five days, and though being sick prevented me from getting a lot of personal errands accomplished, it did force me to think about my life. Making my map last night was such a cathartic experience. I live for pointless, time-consuming shit like that. It made me feel smart, and original, and goofy, and innovative, and goal-oriented. As useless as the product is, once I created it, I really and truly felt a sense of accomplishment. I imagined a task, I worked on it, and I achieved the goal.

I'm kind of talking in circles here, but what I mean is that I got back to ME this weekend. I looked at these two things in my life that have seemed huge and insurmountable and too scary to deal with, and they didn't look so impossible. It's the same sort of perspective I usually get from a good night's sleep. It's like I've been having PMS for the past eleven weeks and finally, finally, the hormones have calmed down.

Which is not to say that they won't act up again next week. But. BUT! Fifteen instructional days until Xmas!

map quest

I'm pretty proud to announce that I've just completed a lifetime goal of mine, something I've been thinking about since my thirteenth transatlantic flight at the tender age of sixteen, something that will blow your mind and reaffirm your faith in all that is holy PLUS uphold my mysterious and unparalleled image.

BEHOLD:

The London Tube Map superimposed on the Actual London City Map:




Before you run for the phone to congratulate me, let me just give you a quick list of hardships I had to endure to complete this task. (Lest I be bogged down by uninformed, repetitive questioning.)

1. Until Google Earth went global (ha ha, get it?), it was very hard to get a street map of London. They are not free, anywhere, ever. All the hotels and hostels hand you Tube maps, which as you can see from my brilliant visual, are not geographically accurate. The airline magazines don't even print accurate London maps.
2. Google Maps was a bit bitchy this afternoon and would only let me print one map at a time, shutting down Firefox each time because of "illegal maneuvers." This made the jigsaw-map technique quite difficult.
3. Tube Maps print text very, very small.
4. Stomach flu.
5. Seventeen third graders.
   
6. Getting a masters degree.

In case you are for some reason not familiar with the London Tube map, I've provided it for you here, along with a real-color copy of my own superimposition. Just see if YOU could navigate a curvy and roundish sprawling city with a straight line map that lacks streets:





PS: If you would like more information about the Underground, or if you want to see someone do a map that is far better than mine, go here.

ill part three

Good news, boys and girls:

1. I do not have pancreatic cancer.
2. I do not have e. coli.
   
3. I am not pregnant.

I am, however, suffering spectacularly from a bizarre case of stomach flu. Today has been the third day (and counting) of the virus, and thank Hashie that I am getting better. While I still couldn't stand for longer than six minutes at a time, I was able to get dressed and leave my house and attend a (mind-numbingly boring) ELD training in South Los Angeles. I was also able to eat several spoonfuls of oatmeal, a snackpack of jello, and two pieces of bread without my insides screaming and writhing in pain.

Urged by both parental units, including the vegetarian one, this evening I ventured to Ralphs and purchased six (6) types of kosher chicken soup. I am in dire need of protein! they all proclaim. I heartily agree, especially because I need to rebuild my strength if I am to take seventeen misfits to the Long Beach Aquarium on Wednesday. I am pretty excited to eat food that tastes, and so if you'll excuse me, I'm going to heat up my Tabatchnick Chicken Broth with Noodles & Dumplings (Wholesome Quality Since 1905) and watch Scrubs on the couch.

ill pt two

According to Mayo Health, my new favorite What Disease Have You Got website since Web MD started showing pop up ads, I have one of the following conditions:

• stress (duh)
• giardia infection (a water born parasite that is usually found in third world countries but also sometimes sneeks into USA's municipal water supply)
• viral gastroenteritis (intestinal infection)
• something related to my gallbladder, colon, or spleen (they are not very clear here)
  
• pancreatic cancer

and the last, most unromantic, most probable condition:

• indigestion

(Although honestly, I have had indigestion before, but never has it lasted FORTY EIGHT HOURS !!)

ill

Yesterday my body put on a stunning diplay of e. coli / hepatitus / food poisoning / flu. I woke up at seven in the morning with a stomach ache, but it went away and I fell back asleep and had a lovely dream about two special someones. When I woke up in the morning, I felt ok and had a bowl of cereal. The okness lasted until noon, when I suddenly became STARVING, but upon eating an apple felt shitty. I was uncomfortable through my much awaited for haircut, so uncomfortable that I had to pull my legs up to my chest and deep breath. After the haircut, I started to feel achy and tried to soothe the pain with a trip to H&M. The store was a letdown, the achiness did not go away, and I felt like I was going to faint. I returned home to sit on the coach and chew Pepto Bismol and moan and groan. My father convinced me to eat two pieces of toast so that I would feel strong enough to see Borat, which also was a letdown.

My stomach cramped throughout the movie, and walking out of the theatre I had to sit down. I couldn't be bothered to get ready for bed, just climbed in and squeezed myself into the fetal position. I was wracked with pain and decided I had contracted Hepatitus from BJ or e. coli from bagged lettuce at Shabbat Club and started planning my hospital stay, like predicting who would come visit and who wouldn't. After thirty minutes of this, I called my dad to ask him to come get me, but he wisely commanded me to take four ibuprofen instead. I felt like a drug addict but fell asleep immediately.

This morning has not been much better. Along with four more ibuprofen, I have had an ounce of milk, several spoonfuls of oatmeal, and two Tums. The cramps are not clawing, but there is still general pain and discomfort. For three hours, I have laid in bed and on the couch, willing the stomach to stop. If it continues, I will be visiting the emergency room tonight.

Stay tuned!

this week was a four

Best headline I've read this week: Brad Pitt To Ask Indian Oprah To Reassure Her Audience His Bodyguards Don't Hate Indians.

Best thing I heard at school, said to me by an obese African American third grader: "Ms. X, you're like my mom." (The other kids laughed.)

Best thing I've discovered on TV: Scrubs plays four times every evening, from seven until nine thirty, interrupted only by Sex and the City. Two and a half hours of bliss.

new goal

My goal is to get back on top.

I've always been at the top of my game. That's not to say that I get the best grades or the most money, but rather I do things more efficiently or more organized than others. In high school and college, it was that I actually knew and understood the material better than my classmates. At camp, I was prepared more in advance than any others. And in life, I am (generally) more organized. Some would call this Type A personality, others might call it Anal Retentive, still others refer to it as Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. Whatever. What matters is that usually I have everything worked out, both mentally and physically.

Not so much recently.

The being-a-new-teacher thing really threw me for a loop, because there was so much that I couldn't prepare for, just because I had NO idea. No idea what to expect, therefor no idea what to prepare. I was just on the verge of understanding the rhythm and demands of fifth grade when I was switched. It has taken three weeks with third grade to get a feel for their rhythm. Now I can work with it.

My goal is to get back on top, to have a handle on what I do every school day, to anticipate what I need to prepare every week, to add to and improve my classroom systems (instead of creating them anew). I need to get back to who I really am, which is the best. And not in the unhealthy way of September, when I was trying beyond what was required and beyond what was expected and beyond what I could reasonably do. I can get back to being the best piece by piece, day by day, idea by idea.


And I'm going to start by getting off my lazy ass and writing my (past-due) UCLA paper.

Ed note: Oops, I mean after I search Blogger for all my past boyfriends to see if they have websites.

gangs

In preparation for parent / grandparent / therapist / caseworker / principal meeting this afternoon, I asked my colleagues about their experiences with misbehaving students. Particularly the possibly emotionally disturbed misbehaving students. Because everyone has at least one student who is a little bit . . . off.

I was not at all prepared for the phrase, "Gang Retaliation" to enter into the conversation.

Apparently there are some students that no matter how egregious their behavior, they never get in real trouble. They are frequently not suspended nor expelled. They are sometimes not even referred to behavioral specialists. My "off" student has thrown pencils and chairs, slammed cabinets and doors, and openly defied administration every day for two weeks. I have sent him to the principal's office at least six times. He hasn't suffered a consequence beyond missing his recess.

One teacher told me about a student who was acting out of control, and when admonished, she BACKED the teacher UP AGAINST A WALL. The teacher called for help. The student was removed from the classroom. When searched, she was found to have a steak knife in her pocket, stolen from the cafeteria. Her punishment? She was suspended for one day and moved to a different classroom. When the teacher pressed charges, colleagues didn't want to testify because they were afraid for their own safety.

I was told that schools put up with gross misbehavior of this sort because SOME OF THE FAMILIES ARE IN GANGS. Parents and relatives of students have "let teachers know" that their children can "do whatever they want." What do you do when a large and strong man tells you to your face (really close to your face) that his child will not be receiving any punishments from now on?

!!!

Now, I know that not every parent in my area threatens teachers or administration. In fact, most of them are very understanding and supportive. Most of them come to conferences and threaten their children to behave properly in class. Most parents are on our side. But apparently not all parents.

I'm completely surprised and alarmed that gangs have penetrated the educational system, the very establishment that houses their children safely behind locked fences and barred windows, that feeds them two meals a day, that provides them with a path to success without guns and drugs. Don't they want better for their kids?

fug and away

I've missed the Fuglies for a while, and today there was this brilliant bit:

Fug and Away Last night, at a Hollywood Function:















Tom Cruise pretends to listen to Alicia Keys, but really, he thinks, "her bangs. They're so smooth and even, yet so long. They're glorious. I wish mine would do that. How ever does she manage that? Would it be rude to ask? I wonder."

riddle

You are driving in a car at a constant speed. On your left side is a 'drop off' (The ground is 18-20 inches below the level you are traveling on), and on your right side is a fire engine traveling at the same speed as you. In front of you is a galloping horse which is the same size as your car and you cannot overtake it. Behind you is another galloping horse. Both horses are also traveling at the same speed as you. What must you do to safely get out of this highly dangerous situation?























Answer: Get your drunk ass off the merry-go-round.

just a job

Today it finally, FINALLY hit me during recess: THIS IS JUST A JOB.

It was like the biggest epiphany since when I realized I was making a regular paycheck and could afford to buy name brand food at Ralphs again.

THIS IS JUST A JOB. Whatever happens during the day happens, and then I have a break at recess. Whatever we learn during the day we learn, and then school is over. I take my hour and a half to get ready for the next day, and then I go home and do whatever I want. (Which lately has been spending my entire aforementioned paycheck at Lakeshore and Staples.) Some days my job is easier, and some days my job is harder. Some days my job is boring, and some days (like today) I feel so successful that I want my little darlings to come back after dismissal.

I have to remember this, that it's just a job, but it's also one of the most special jobs there is in the world. I get to be with people all day long, little, funny people. I get to take care of a batch of children and watch them develop over nine months. I get to teach them how to multiply and how to write creatively and how to wash their hands. I get to show them how to manage their anger and how to make friends and how to distinguish between Saturn and Jupiter. I get to create my own little universe of rules and traditions and order and customs and language and behavior. Ahhh! A perfectionist's dream!

regina spektor

You know when you get into a new song and it just hits you some place that you become obsessed, that it becomes the greatest melody you've ever heard, that the instruments in the background are simply perfect, and the lyrics MEAN something.... and you need to listen to the song over and over and over and over again, ten times in a row? I'm completely strung out on Regina Spektor's Fidelity. I heard this song weeks and weeks ago on some BET top ten list. I remember being stunned by her, that she was going to be my next big thing, and I ran into my room and wrote her down. But then I never did anything about it, and tonight Benja gave me her CD, and I'm able to listen over and over and over again. I can't tell if it's a love song or a just-fell-out-of-love song or a can't-commit-to-love song, which almost makes it better. I'm on my eleventh listen and I can't stop.

happy birthday to me

new sheets! (boy-free and all mine, all chocolatey browny and stripey mine!)
new books! (used! but new to me!)
new plants! (because the aphids killed my classroom flowers!)
throat spray! (genius!)
new clothes! (brown!)
new pajamas!
mix CDs! (regina spektor! busta rhymes!)
microwaveable slippers!
english muffin pizzas!
scategories! (dirty scategories!)
thai food! (as opposed to indonesian food!)

friends!
family!
my own personal Groundlings troupe performing "David Shahar's Nasty Wart" in my living room!


*sigh*

24 has so far been the best. It started off very promising, and just kept on delivering, just kept on getting better and better. I was in heaven for most of the year. I thought I had everything I've ever wanted. I was happy beyond the moon. Sadly, 24 ended with kind of a thud! and a splat! and a big explosion of shit all over the floor. 24 ended the opposite of how it started. Which means that 25 is starting from the very bottom, which means that 25 holds a lot of secrets and mysteries and untold stories and potential, which means that 25 can only get better and better and better and better.

And I know this is true, I know it in my heart, even though it's not showing right now. I know I have lots of adventures and parties and laughing and hugs and snuggles just around the corner. I know that my struggles will get easier and easier, and I believe my fortune cookie tonight that says I will "bring sunshine into someone's life." I know I will bring sunshine into more than just one someone's life, because I am smiley and bright and funny and creative and caring and thoughtful and colorful. I am all that and more. I'm 25!

dress

It's not vain to enjoy the experience of clothing,
to wrap yourself in clean fabric,
the shape and hang and swish and strings swinging back and forth amuse and distract,
make you stand a little straighter,
make you feel a little stronger,
let you pretend you belong amongst the beautiful people.

To put on a soft blanket shirt when you need no fuss,
or to put on a suit that stands you up and commands your concentration,
or to decorate yourself with colors and patterns so your sad self can only whisper while outside your clothing shouts.

It's not vain to enjoy a look,
being someone else,
or to enjoy pretending,
or to sometimes care about the outside when you want to shut out the inside.

weeds

HOLY SHIT WEEDS WAS FUCKING AWESOME OH MY GOD WHAT A GREAT FUCKING ENDING GENIUS GENIUS GENIUS!!!!!!!!!!!

it's just what it sounds like

In one of my more prouder moments, I spent this past Halloween with good friends, eating dinner and drinking tea, complaining about our respective workloads, massaging each others' egos, and watching the most horrifying movie I have ever seen: Vampyros Lesbos.