:: p-dog ::

[The following was written on Monday, during my credentialing class, tragically cut short when my professor came and sat down right behind me.]

Today was HOT. 93 isn't so bad when you're running between air-conditioned rooms, but it's awfully lame with a room full of sweaty 7th-graders and 2 inadequate fans. (Those circumstances are the only reason I feel justified mentioning the heat to a 50% Texan audience.)

At any given hour, I can quote the number of days and/or class periods left until summer. 6 weeks + 3 days. 33 days. After every hellish juvie class 1st period, I think about the number of hours left with them. If only I could just do that 33 hours now, consecutively. Be done with it.

I'm not just crossing days off several calendars. Sean, my TFA link, observed my class today, and we had a very uplifting visit during lunch, reflecting on how incredibly far we've come. I think I've repressed most memories of the fall. Occasionally someone will through a piece of paper, and horrible flashbacks ensue. Staple-throwing wars. Spit wads. Paper airplanes in the ceiling. Waiting for silence, and waiting, and waiting, and waiting. Getting 30% return on assigned classwork. *Shudder.* *Shudder, shudder.*

Now, almost unbelievably, my classroom looks something like a real classroom. I'm fairly sure my students are learning something, albeit reluctantly. Sean said that every middle school teacher struggles their first year, but the forward pressure is so great that they usually come back for second years more stunning than their elementary school colleagues, who never had to deal with the same discipline issues. (Bastards.)

[The following was planned on Monday but written on Wednesday round noon, at a curriculum training session. Whee! Wireless internet in the county office of ed!]

Despite the reputation of my district, and my school in particular, I rarely even hear about any violence. Gangs, drugs, poverty: yes. Kids as the first members of their families to graduate 8th grade: yes. Circumstances vastly different from the ones I grew up in: yes. But when people ask if I’ve ever felt unsafe at my school, or in my neighborhood, it’s almost laughable.

Last week my fellow new teachers and I had our first genuine encounter with violence. Three of my friends make up the entire 7th grade faculty at one K-8 school. A week and a half ago, on a Sunday night, one of their students was held at gunpoint by men robbing his house. His father was murdered.

My friends and their students found out from the newspaper headline the next day. The 7th grade as a whole was hysterical, particularly cousins and close friends of that student. The three of them went to the funeral on Thursday. Aside from the horror and sympathy for their student, they reported that the weirdest part of the open-casket service was remembering their meeting with that parent a week before.

My life has been too hectic to really process the whole thing. It reminds me that the same thing could happen to my students. It’s horrible, but no less horrible than the kids committing suicide, or the fathers shooting their families, or the scissor-stabbing deaths back in Wealthy-white-town, Texas. Primarily, though, it reminds me how infrequently violence intrudes on my life, how rare it is that I even hear about it. I’ll go ahead and solicit your meaningful insights, as I’ve dredged my brain and come up empty.

[The following was written Wednesday night, at my science methods course, winner of the Most Useless and Pointlessly Lengthy Class Award.]

Man, the one time I legitimately feel bad, I can’t skip the class because I’ve already missed too many. My allergies are acting up. Never had allergies in Texas. Snotting all over the place here. Last week I missed class though I fully intended to go. At the gas station on my way to class, in all my nice teacher clothes, I heard a click and thought my pump had shut off. So I pulled it out. Evidently I had misinterpreted someone else’s click as my own, because the gas was still very much flowing as I pulled out the pump, spraying everywhere, most importantly all over me. Windows cracked on the highway to mitigate fume inhalation, I drove myself home and took a bath. Never did quite make it to class.

But here I am now, sneezing like a madman. But hey! Not teaching tomorrow. Here’s to curriculum training.

:: Leslie H - 9:08 AM - ::

Who wants to run Bay to Breakers with me? It's San Francisco's funkiest 12K run across the city. It evidently features spectacular costumes, substance abuse, and a great deal of naked runners. Sunday, May 16th. Who's with me?

(I'd best be specific: by "run" I mean "walk." And by "walk" I mean "amble, in elaborate costume." And by that I mean, "amble, in elaborate costume, while drinking beer. At 8 a.m." Bryan is actually running the silly thing, so he's out of the question.)

:: Leslie H - 8:52 PM - ::

It's 4/20, and I refuse to even speculate on how many of my students are celebrating.

In happy news, I was video taped today teaching a science lesson to my reading class. (credential class requirements--don't ask) It went really well, ensuring that it will be *the* video that encapsulates my teaching career. Fifteen years from now, when the memories have dimmed beyond recall, I'll trot it out to show my neighbors in the suburbs. Bryan got a kick out of watching it, because he never quite believed I was a teacher.

Man, I subvert all comma laws now in favor of "where there sounds like a pause ought to be." Is that wrong of me?

:: Leslie H - 8:43 PM - ::

A plug for Cameron's blog--if you've never visited and read her descriptions of anatomy lab, you ought to. If only to find out how cool erectile tissue is.

:: Leslie H - 6:12 PM - ::

I'm afraid that doing justice to our Mexico vacation is too daunting for me to attempt. Here's what I can do:

A bullet-point list of highlights

1. Scuba diving. Words can't describe. Pictures maybe.



through the coral caves




sea flora




pretty fish

[See 150 more pictures at gallery.]


2. Renting a scooter and driving to Mayan ruins and along the beach.




3. Mini-golf, drunk. Falling into streams and ordering beers via radio. All thanks to these margaritas:




Further sources:

Bryan did a good job of describing events as they happened, so look to overt for stories. Extensive pictures are also available at the aforementioned gallery.

And as long as you're browsing pictures, check out some good ones from Clare's visit at our gallery and at Clare's.

Spring Break is over! Back to (only 8 more weeks of) school!

:: Leslie H - 12:54 PM - ::

What shall we do today? Oh, let's fly to Mexico.

I'm only taking a few books to lesson plan...

Expect updates when I've returned, 4/16.

:: Leslie H - 9:49 AM - ::

Further insignificant news:

Bryan and I just cut my hair in about 10 minutes, to fairly good effect. (You can be the judge when pictures from our Mexico trip come through.) Clare shirked her duties when she was here last weekend. :) So it was about time.

And, we went on a quest for some Chacos for me, which eventually spanned 3 cities, 3 states (Texas and Michigan were involved when Bryan called friends to look up store locations on the internet for us), and 5 stores that I remember. But the result is, I have sandals of the correct size and style, that are comfortable and can get wet. Perfect for our trip, casual wear, slipping off under the table, and the bulk of my (too few) athletic activities. As a result of this purchase, I fear that Birkenstocks have lost their niche in my shoe wardrobe. Their phase-out began two years ago with my purchase of piper sandals, which I still love. Now my faithful Birks are about to wear out, and I can't really justify another pair. It feels like the end of an era.

:: Leslie H - 3:15 PM - ::

Man, I have got to stop whining on this blog! My ads today are for nail fungus cream and skin rash cure. Not exactly as thrilling as scuba trips or San Francisco eateries.

A note on job satisfaction: at least this semester I feel like I've taught my students a little something. My relentless word-of-the-day campaign has begun to pay off. Warm fuzzies commence every time I hear one of them talk about "belittling" someone or "yearning" for lunchtime.

:: Leslie H - 9:02 AM - ::

Bryan's watching Easy Rider on his computer (the part where they beat Jack to death);
I'm brushing burrito lard from between my teeth
and thinking:
half of class tomorrow we're watching a movie
and I still don't want to go.

But then we have a week off!
But then we go back to school.

:: Leslie H - 9:16 PM - ::

Can I just point out: 7 more Mondays. (That's a little deceptive: there are 9 more weeks of school. But still.)

:: Leslie H - 4:44 PM - ::

So at my curriculum training today, I took the opportunity to chat with our school's "Instructional Coach"-- a semi-administrator whose duties encompass assisting new teachers. I asked her what she thought of the program that my 1st period group participates in. (You know them as my juvie class.) I have very mixed feelings about it: this "valued youth program" pulls all the troubled trouble-makers into a group and sends them to tutor elementary students instead of having reading and social studies classes 4 days a week. I questioned whether depriving them of so much class time was really in their best interests. And she confessed that the entire goal of the program was to keep them in school, regardless of whether they learned anything.

High expectations, indeed.

So now my feelings about it are even more screwed up. I would have liked to know this in September, when I could have modified my curriculum. Not gutted it; just changed it from all-grammar-all-the-time. Nothing like subordinate clauses to make you want to be cool, stay in school.

I'm yearning for a birthday or holiday or something to celebrate. I feel the need to send flowers to someone.

:: Leslie H - 8:37 AM - ::

An update on that mysteriously swollen/red toe: it continued to worsen and was joined by the pinkie. When by Wednesday afternoon I could barely walk, and red infection lines were starting to creep up my foot, I went to the hospital. There, the doctor offered zero explanation (but a prescription) for the infection. And now I'm on a 10-day course of antibiotics. The painful/discolored areas have shrunk; I can walk just fine; I still have no idea how it happened.

In other news, Clare is here to visit Berkeley's journalism grad school (specifically documentary film). I think the beauty of Berkeley is tipping the scales at least a little away from West Africa, but the jury's still very much out. Further updates as events warrant.

I am spending part of the weekend at curriculum training. Which is not a lot of fun, but it is paying for about half the trip to Mexico (which starts next week!).

:: Leslie H - 7:56 AM - ::