Why not dream big?

I have been wondering lately why my dreams, I mean real dreams, have been so small. I have had daydreams that were nowhere rooted in reality at all, but since I applied for The Job, I've been dreaming bigger and bigger. Real dreams. About my actual life.

Why not? Why would I think, for one minute, that I was restrained from achieving whatever I wanted? And I'm not talking about abstract concepts of "success," either. I'm talking about:

• Owning a million-dollar (or more) home. That I had built. To my specifications. With a blue tiled pool. Surrounded by a forest.
  
• Owning a nice car.
• Running my own successful business. Having too much business to handle, so that I have to hire someone.
  
• Making so much money, I don't even have to think about whether or not I have enough.
• Taking yearly vacations to the Atlantis resort on Paraside Island, in the Bahamas.
• Or perhaps to Edinburgh.
• Having a home office that looks like this (click "view in room")
• Buying you this for a birthday gift.
• Or perhaps this.
• Or, maybe even this. Just for kicks. Just because I can. Just because I want to.
• I would dress like this.
• I would eat the best food.
• I would drink the best drinks.

My life, in a nutshell, would be the best it's ever been.
So, Postiving Thinking Helps To Create The Reality People, am I being specific enough?

I suppose it would be, if I changed all the "woulds" to "is." Hmm.

Apparently, He's Evil, Too

Tom Cruise Kills Oprah.

Film at eleven. Or whenever your computer loads the thing. It takes a while, but it's worth it, I think.


But I am unnaturally obsessed with knocking Tom Cruise down to size.

Getting to me.

I know most of the known world only gets one week of vacation per year, if that, but teachers really look forward to their summers. We are loathe to give them up.

Recently, I've asked myself why, oh, why did I give this one up?


My work has taken over my summer, and I don't like it anymore. Well, I never really liked it, but now I find it rather annoying. I have to prepare curriculum for the class I'm teaching on Mondays and Wednesdays, and it takes a lot of time. I also have to attend and teach said class, which runs 5 hours at a shot. That's a lot of work.

And then there's the soap. Now, that is a bit more "enjoyable," but it is still done for money, and I sell it at a farmer's market, so that wipes me out. It's supposed to be cloudy tomorrow, though, so maybe it won't be too bad. If it's another 100 degree day, I may collapse.

Speaking of which, I think I should go load the trunk of my car, so I don't have to do it in the morning. When I load it in the morning, I inevitably forget something. Also, I'm not "running out" of soap per se, but "running low" might be a better description. I need to make more soap. That's a good sign, but doesn't bode well for my relaxation.

I've utterly given up my summer! My class ends Aug. 1, but after that I still have to finish grades, etc. Hmmph. That will leave me about 1 week before I have to go "back to work."

Ha!

Fabulous day.

You must ask my friend E. about her new bracelet. It was purchased at a hip, chic, unique store on South Gaylord Street in Denver. It's beaded and bangly, and makes a very satisfying rattle. It was one of the highlights of our day.

I NEVER get to have days like today, and it wasn't even a day, it was about 3.5 hours. E. came down from Boulder, and we had lunch at a fabulous pastry-and-tea shop called Devil's Food. Our Arnold Palmers were refreshing, our salads were the perfect size, and the Flourless Hazelnut Chocolate Cake was too big, but we each finished ours. We should have shared.

After that, we strolled Gaylord street, stopping in the aforementioned chic shop where E. found her bracelet. After that, we found a stencil shop. I had no idea there were so many stencils in the world. Some people live for trompe l'oeil, apparently. The stencils were amazing. I fell in love with some very elegant fairies. Maybe for another day, though. Busy, busy.

By that time I was thirsty, so we stopped into a soda shop where I bought a bottle of Stewart's Orange Creme soda. We sat on the couch and chatted, recovering from the heat. Divine.

It was just so nice to stroll along, and have no appointments, no worries whatsoever. Absolutely stellar.

I can't wait until August 2, when I'm meeting my friend L. By that time, I'll be finished with teaching, and on vacation for REAL. That's gonna be another fun time.

Out of the comfort zone

A wise person once said, "How do you know what great things you may be able to do, if you don't try something that seems impossible?"

Who said that? Well, I did. I said it to myself, just the other day. I'm sure someone else has said something similar, at some point. I'm sure that someone was famous. I probably read it on a greeting card, once.

In any case, I was saying this to myself to keep from vomiting. My viscera were rumbling because I had done something that was decidedly out of my comfort zone.

A little history:

For those of you who have been reading this blog from the beginning, it will come as no surprise to know that I have been unhappy with my current financial and career position as of late. I'm actually happy with the actions my career entails, but because I am paid so very little, not even enough to support my family, I've become decidedly unhappy with that, and have been taking steps to change it. So far, so good. I started writing my book, which is a good one, and will help teachers. I teach at the University part-time, for extra money and fodder for my book. I make and sell soap for pocket money.

And then it happened: my school district hired a lawyer to be the new superintendent.


I thought about it, and thought about it, and it came to me the other day: This is just the thing that we disillusioned, disenfranchised teachers have been talking about. Two of the candidates had education backgrounds, and strong credentials. Who did the school board pick? The dude with no education experience whatsoever. Just another example of how education backgrounds aren't valued in our society.

And then I thought some more. With our last superintendent, I emailed him with reports of my personal anguish regarding my financial situation. I thought to myself, "Self, email him. Let him know what he's in for."

Okay. So I did. In my email, fully expecting no response whatsoever, I nominated myself as Chief Academic Officer for our school district. This is the job that is immediate advisor to the superintendent. One of two Head Honchos. I wrote an email to him, nominating myself for this position. The email I wrote was sincere and straightforward, asking that I be considered for the job, and outlined my credentials and personality traits that make me a good candidate.

Now, I did this to prove a point. My point, in my head, was this: If they can hire someone with no education experience whatsoever to run a school district, then they damn well better hire an educator for Chief Academic Officer. And if they rejected me, as I fully expected them to, they had better have a reason better than "lack of experience."

So I sent the email, fully expecting no response whatsoever. The new superintendent had been at work for all of, oh, say, 3 days. I guessed at what his email address would be, knowing the format for our district emails. I sent it off, and thought to myself, "Good job, self. Now, get back to all that work you do."

Which I did. For exactly 33 minutes. Which is when my email rang.

Yep. It was the superintendent. I blinked. I couldn't believe it. He actually read my email. Furthermore, he actually seemed to take it seriously. He informed me that the job had been posted online with a job description, and if I was still interested, he HOPED I would apply.

He hoped? Hoped I would apply? Did that mean he actually read my email? Did that mean he actually thought my argument had merit, counsel?

At this point, I realized what I'd gotten myself into. If he took it seriously, which he must have if he wrote me back, then that meant I would have to take it seriously.

So I thought and thought. And thought some more.

And that's when I thought about my comfort zone, and why it might be a good idea to push out of it. How great people have always taken some sort of risk. How I hate hypocrisy, and how I should carry through with this, if I started it. I also thought about the transfer process last spring, and how disheartening it was to have thoughtless jerks dismiss me out-of-hand and not even read my resumé, because they saw I taught Special Education. I thought that, maybe, with the transfer process, I was shooting too low.


So I did it. I applied for the job, for real, online. My cover letter was the email I sent to the dude initially, with modifications outlining my agenda.

Who knew I have an agenda?


Apparently, I do. And apparently, after thinking and thinking about this, I've realized something about myself:

I would be INCREDIBLE at that job.

I'm NOT the only one!

Please note my previous post, "Am I The Only One?" Apparently, I'm not.


http://www.tomcruiseisnuts.com


Thank you to the people who created the above site. Thank you for validating me.

Annual Haircut

In about an hour I'll be going in to have my "annual" haircut. That's what my stylist calls it, anyway. I don't have my hair cut often. She does a really good job of styling it, so that I can go ages without having it cut. A couple of years ago, I donated my long-ass hair to the cancer wig people. I'm thinking I should do that every 5 years or so.

But I digress.

Every time I go in to have my hair cut, I swear to myself that I'm going to put aside some money so I can have it done more often. I never seem able to do this. Is it a subconscious, self-hatred thing? Do I simply care so little about my appearance that I won't go in for a haircut?

No. I don't hate myself. I just don't have any money, and it's hard to justify the expense, when I could just let it grow out. Haircuts are really a luxury, when you think about it. So, I don't go in very often.

Except she's got me almost hooked on the waxing.

Yes, gentlemen, it's true. Some women are just into pain. My eyebrows look amazing after she's done with them; they look much better than I could do with a tweezer. And the pain is far less than tweezing, because it's over all at once.

Of course, there are other health-and-beauty related things that I could get hooked on, if I had the expendable cash. Chiropractor visits. Colonics.


Okay, I won't digress there.

Blogs are bad, mmmmkaaay?

No, not really, they're not.

But they really are.

Have you read some of the schlock that's floating around cyberspace? I mean, shit, even that last sentence I wrote blows. Totally clichéd. I have a couple of blogs I read, but it's hard to find good ones, sometimes.

Sometimes I surf Blogger, just to see what's out there. BO-RING. It's much more fun to search craigslist.

What's even more fun is reading the ads on craigslist. The personal ads. The funniest ones (to me) are the "gay men seeking gay men" ads. Allow me to share:

"......"

Okay, I can't share. Those ads are really profane. Oh, and many of them have photographs. Oh, yes. Photographs of penises. Penii. And buttocks.

So that's much more interesting to read than boring-ass blogs. Like this one. Go on. Go find yoruself some "fun in the afternoon." That guy's from Boulder.

too freaking busy to blog

I guess you'd better call or email me.

Don't Be Surprised

...when you try to get in touch with me and have found I've moved to Iowa.

The past few weeks, days even, have been terrible in Denver. Two people were found dead today, outside a community rec center. Possible homicide-suicide, they say.

Yesterday, a woman was killed by some asshat who shot at her boyfriend. Boyfriend is still in the hospital, in critical condition. Some bystander got shot in the arm. Oh, did I mention this happened inside a mall?

The day before that, two people were executed, pumped full of bullets, while sitting in their car on the street, presumably near where they live. The reason? The man was going to testify as a witness in court, is the speculation.

Horrible car accidents: every day. Asshats pulling out in front of me, causing me to drive using defensive maneuvers. People dying on the road. Every. Single. Day.


I sure hope my book sells like wildfire, because I need to get the hell out of here.

Old South Pearl Street Farmer's Market

The following is the text of an email I sent out today. Hooray for me!

Please mark your calendars and plan to attend the official debut of:

Olde Crone's Bewitching Bath Soap

at

Old South Pearl Street Farmer's Market
Sundays 9am-1pm
In the 1500 S. block of Pearl Street in Denver

I can't wait to see you there!

I will be offering:

Oatmeal Honey Soap (ugly bar discount: $3.00 each)
Lavender Calendula Baby Soap
Patchouli Rosewood Soap
Ancient Times Superspa Soap (with Dead Sea Mud)
Ladies' Lovely Complexion Soap
Clear Skin Support Soap
Wake Up! soap (a fresh, citrus scent)
Bare Bones, No-Nonsense Soap (no fragrance, herbs, or additives; just soap)

aaaaand announcing:

Olde Crone's Solid Lotion

This lotion comes in a solid form, in a push-up tube. It is similar to a tube for lip balm, only much bigger. The lotion melts when applied to the skin; the tube helps to keep things neat. This fantastic, all-natural lotion contains shea butter, cocoa butter, hempseed oil, and beeswax. Shea butter is a true wonder of the world: use it to heal cracked, dry skin on heels, elbows, around fingernails, etc. Use it on your bald head. Use it on your hands. Shea butter is truly amazing. It is reputed to help heal scar tissue, help prevent wrinkles, helps to soften the skin.... it will heal a broken heart! It will increase your bra size! It will get you backstage passes to Blue Oyster Cult! Is there anything shea butter can't do?*

Please come on down (and bring several friends) to the
Old South Pearl Street Farmer's Market
this Sunday, June 26, and see me.
Mention this email, and I'll attempt to sell you some soap!
What a deal!

Sincerely,

The Olde Crone

theoldecrone@comcast.net



* Answer: Yes. There is plenty that shea butter can't do. I make no cosmetic claims whatsoever. The statements above are somewhat fabricated, and are meant to entertain and keep you reading. But you knew that.

Am I The Only One?

Am I the only person who is completely disgusted by the display of Tom Cruise's "love" for actress Kate Holmes?

I don't generally "follow" celebrity gossip. I have been known to purchase the occaisonal gossip rag, when I'm too tired to read for real, and just want to look at pretty people carrying their groceries to their cars. However, this "love affair" between Tom Cruise, age 803, and Kate Holmes, age 12, has me disgusted.

She is marrying a guy who has had two failed marriages. She is marrying a guy who, in theory, could be her father. He's 18 years older than her. She's converting to, of all things, Scientology! He's jumping up and down on Oprah about her. She's closer in age to his children than to him. And have I mentioned the age difference?

Jesus H. Christ on a pogo stick.

The large age difference shouldn't bother me. But when an international celebrity with two failed marriages, who is a staunch supporter of an international "religious" cult, in his 40s, starts jumping up and down about how he's in "love" with someone so much younger than he is, I think, "Your very public midlife crisis is disgusting to me. People are dying in Iraq, and you think it's a big deal to propose marriage to this woman in Paris. I refuse to pay attention to you anymore."

And I will start ignoring him immediately after this post is over. Which it almost is.

*makes disgusted face*

Eeeeeeeewwwww, Tom Cruise. You need to knock this shit off. It was gross to watch PDA in 8th grade, and it's still gross. Real love doesn't need an international audience to prove itself.

What are you trying to prove?




Okay, I'm done.

GAAAAAAAAAH!

If at all possible, I would advise against taking an educational psychology class.

Good lord.

Of course, I'm teaching such a class in July, and I'm preparing for it right now. If I make a good impression, do a good job, the university may ask me back for this class. At that point, preparing for it and teaching it are much less work. They pay me well, so it's worth it to put forth my best effort.

But, man. This reading is intense. If anybody has insomnia, I have a recommendation.

How Not to Do Business

Surreal experiences are not foreign to me of a Friday morning. After all, I am a public school teacher, and for some reason Fridays are the most difficult day of the week.

But I digress. I digress far and wide, because this is SUMMER, and I should not be talking about school.

I'm back.

Okay, here's the scenario: Yesterday I got a phone call about my new soap business, "Olde Crone's Bewitching Bath Soap." The person left a message specifically asking for my business. This intrigued me, because I have not been advertising as such, so I was thinking this person was referred by my group of friends who have purchased my soap.

Silly, silly me.

You see, last week I went downtown and procured my state and local business licenses. I now have to collect sales tax on my purchases, etc. etc. No big deal. I should have seen the influx of phone calls coming.

The phone call mentioned above was from a woman who works for a merchant credit processing company. She was soliciting me to set up a merchant account, so that I could receive credit cards as payment for my business. While I feel this is a good idea, I'm not really ready to sit down and pursue it, yet. However, the woman yesterday was quite pleasant and seemed to know her business very well. Unfortunately, I was on the road at the time, so I asked her to email me about a potential meeting with her next week. I have yet to receive that email, but that's no big deal; I bet she'll call me back.

Okay, fast-forward to this morning. My phone rings yet again, saying, "Private Number," on the display. At that point, I figured it was another credit company, and I was right.

*deep breath* Now, the details I am about to impart to you are a bit shocking, so brace yourselves. Refer to the title of this entry to assist the bracing:

The woman began with her spiel, and immediately I asked her, "Can you send me the details in an email, so I can read it at my leisure?"

She responded, "Oh, well, I don't know how to use the email, so I prefer to talk to you about it over the phone."



At which point, I blinked. Twice. I then shook my head a little bit to clear it, and responded, professionally and calmly, "Well, if you don't know how to use email, then I don't think I want to do business with your company." I thought this was fair; the year is 2005, after all, and I should be able to do business via email, if that is my preference, ESPECIALLY since she was soliciting me.

After I made this statement, she said, "Oh." AND THEN SHE HUNG UP ON ME AS I WAS SPEAKING.




*closes eyes, shakes head again*




Which proves that my instincts were correct about that business.


p.s. She called back immediately afterward. I declined the call to send it to voice mail. She didn't leave a message. I presume she was going to give me some bullshit about how we got "disconnected." *snort!* Yeah, right.

What Teachers Do In The Summer

We work.

Oh, yeah, yeah, I can hear you right-wing, conservative ass-monkeys right now: You get paid in the summer for doing nothing! What are you talking about? You don't work!

Bullshit, we don't.

I don't know one teacher who is happy with her salary and simply lounges around in the summer. It has nothing whatsoever to do with our "nature," either. It is simply an economic necessity.

For instance, consider, oh, I don't know........me. This summer, I have already:

• started a soap business
• acquired business licenses for said business
• begun work on the class I'm teaching in July
• done research for the book I'm writing.

That's just in one week of summer "vacation." Not a lot of lounging around with a cocktail. I'd love to do that, but I can't. I have to earn more money.

And those of you who think we "get paid in the summer for doing nothing," can suck it. We get paid a SALARY. Think of it as one tiny pile of money, evenly divided by 12. We are then given one of those extra-tiny piles each month. Therefore, we are getting paid in the summer for work we already did.

Guh!

The Adverse Affects of Teaching

I suppose simply reading my blog from a few weeks ago would tell you (you know, the one in which it was snowing out, on May 1, and I was out of my mind), but teaching is an exhausting and incredibly stressful job. Even on the last day of school this past Friday, as I was checking out and heading home for the summer, there was drama. Some woman had brought her kid to school (he was in my class, by the way...and had NOT been to school for over a WEEK), marched up the stairs to the lockers without checking in at the office, and when she found his locker empty, began DUMPING OUT ALL THE GARBAGE CANS ON THE SECOND FLOOR. You see, his personal books were gone. So, she thought it was acceptable to dump all the garbage on the floor, searching for the books. She then attempted to take similar books from the school library, because that would be "fair." Yeah. I got the hell out of there and let the principal deal with it; there's a reason they pay them the big bucks. That crazy woman was the reason.

So anyway, any stress-related ailments that I have been experiencing usually go away during the first week of summer vacation. Not this time. Right now, I am experiencing the following:

• I have a horrible rash of acne on my chin
• Back pain
• Can't sleep
• Asthma attacks
• My 3rd period in 6 weeks
• Fatigue (no wonder on this one...I can't sleep)

Granted, school just ended 4 days ago. But this kind of stress-related crap has got to stop. I've got a lot of work to do this summer. I suppose this stuff won't stop me from gardening, writing curriculum and writing my book; I'll just be ugly and coughing while I participate in those activities. I would just like to experience some normal health, for once.

2:30am. Time to get up.

I can't go into details, but I was awakened at 2:30am, and I've been up since.

No, it was not for any type of sexy reason.

Anyway, I was too awake to fall back asleep, so I stayed up. I made coffee at 4:15am. Had some bread with butter and some coffee. Fired up the lappy and did some ebay work, and other internet stuff. Paid a bill.

And all of a sudden, I realized that THE SUN WAS COMING UP. It wasn't even 5am, and I could see it getting lighter outside. And then I heard the birds.

THE BIRDS.

How the hell do I sleep through that shit on a daily basis? Those birds are loud as hell! Tweet tweet fucking tweet. Man!


That's just my cranky, no-sleep talking. They actually sounded rather nice. Just startling how loud they were. It was also nice to feel cool air in the house. It's been so damned hot, and there I was, sitting in the cool air, listening to cheeping birds.

It was ok, I guess. I suppose there are worse ways to spend the 4am hour.

Sappy-Ass Shit

Man, I have become such a weepy fool.

The other day, I was so stressed out because of my superiors. I can't go into the details, because I might be filing a grievance because of it.

So I'm totally stressed out, and I want to get out of this situation, but feel helpless because the last time I tried to transfer the fools didn't even read my resumé. I felt trapped, disgusted, and hopeless.

And I'm sitting in my office, working on "writing up" some information about incidents that have happened. I'm doing this during lunch time. My best friend at work, S, is sitting with me, eating his cereal.

All of a sudden, he gets up and says, "Well, I'm going upstairs."

"No! Where are you going? Don't go!" I call after him.

"Well, I've asked you three questions, and you aren't answering me, and I don't even think you knew that I asked questions. You're just really into that stuff you're writing, and I don't see how I'm helping..."

"No! Please, don't go! You're helping just by being here..." and I motion with my hand for him to close the door, because all of a sudden, I'm crying.

S, being someone who actually cares about his friends, came back in and shut the door.

I just broke down. "Just having you in here is helping. I've been so lonely this year. I feel helpless and alone because of the shit that's happening. And you're my best friend here at work, and I hardly get to see you anymore, and..."

And I couldn't finish. I just cried.

And S. comforted me in the best possible way a person could. He said, "You're my best friend at work, too."

And up until that moment, I didn't know that. Because S. is everybody's friend. Everybody loves him. He makes everybody laugh. He gets along with everybody. He makes friends faster than anyone I've ever known.

But I didn't know I was his best friend at work, until that moment. I feel both proud and ashamed; I'm proud to be his friend, and also ashamed that I didn't know how he felt.

Furthermore, I'm ashamed to be posting such sappy-ass shit on my blog. What kind of fucking pity-party is this, anyway? I feel like everybody's lame-ass, charity case friend.

The Best I Can Do

The best I can do to stand this job is to torment others.

Like right now, for instance. My kiddos have extra time to complete an assignment, and they've been doing anything but work. So then they have "needs," (i.e. how to spell something, wanting to get out of class, needing not to work, but to do anything else) and want me to call on them.

So I sit here, with a big smile on my face, not calling on them.

They start to complain: "Miss, my arm hurts! ... Miss, aren't you going to call on me?"


Um............ no.

Can't sleep...must...play...with...lappy...

Yeah, I bought one. I love this thing more than life itself.

I cut my fingernails so they wouldn't click on the keyboard.

I loaded new software onto it, sitting next to it the whole time, reading the manual.

I ate dinner while surfing the net.

I love this thing!

Lappy Haiku:

I love my lappy.
It gives me intense pleasure
Not unlike a man.

Ha! I think that's pretty good. See? See how the lappy influences me? Poetry practially writes itself on this thing!

4 weeks, 4 fires

Yes, you read that right. We have had not one week go by of the past month that someone hasn't set a fire in our school.

Welcome to public schools, everyone! This is what no discipline or follow-through will get you!

After today's fire, a bunch of adults were huddled around the main office assistant's desk, looking at her computer screen. If I didn't know better, I would have thought they were watching internet porn, they were so interested. Of course, they were looking at the playback of the fire incident. Yes, the children are so stupid that they will set a fire while on camera.

But I digress. While watching the video to see who the perp was, the assistant principal said, plain as day, in front of the office staff and several teachers, "It's the teachers' fault."


What the hell?


I hope this tells you a little something about what it's like to work in public schools. We as teachers wonder why the public at large has no respect for us? Well, why should we wonder? The administration of our building doesn't have any respect for us. The administration thinks that it is the teachers' fault that a child set a fire in the bathroom. How the hell did she come to that conclusion?

Well, the same way she comes to all conclusions; she doesn't want someone to blame her, so she blames the teachers, because we are easy targets. However, in this case, everyone is going to think she's a nutjob if she continues with her stance.

I know that she is afraid that someone is going to blame her. She won't hear it from me, but you all will hear this:

The administration has made their bed, and now they have to sleep in it.

Nothing, and I mean NOTHING, has been done to deter criminal behavior from the students, all year long. Students caught smoking pot on school grounds? They're here, in school. Maybe they were suspended for a couple of days. That's it. No ticket. No arrest. Nothing.

Oh, hey! Wanna set the school on fire? Go right ahead! We'll send you home for a couple of days, "...to think about what you did." While we're at it, why don't we give our puppies at home a treat when they shit on the carpet? Yeah, that'll teach 'em.

Which brings me back to the fires. Yes, 4 fires have been set in the past 4 weeks. Have the children been ticketed for arson? No, they have not. Have they been arrested? No, they have not. Have they received any consequences that show them that their pyromaniac tendencies won't be tolerated? No, they have not.

And here we sit. We, the teachers, are being blamed for a student setting a fire in a student lavatory.


Anybody wanna take bets on how long it will take before they get the whole school to burn down?

In stead

I was just typing a note to myself, and I used the term , "...in my stead."


So pretentious.

new t-shirts

Steve and I are going to have new t-shirts made. They will say:

"Suck it" means "yes."


How would we use such a t-shirt? A-like so:


Student: Mr. McGee, will you miss us over the summer?
Teacher: Suck it.


You see how easy? Now you try.



--groovygrrl, queen of fashion

Transfers

It's time for the annual "Transferring of the Teachers." This is different from the Running of the Bulls in Pamplona, Spain, because bulls don't have to do interviews.

The list came up on Friday. All of the teaching jobs that are available in the district were listed. I wonder which group of teachers was pissed off the most, you might ask? I'll answer: it appears that elementary level teachers are leaving their posts in droves. Of course, there are more elementary schools than middle or high schools, but damn! It sure looked like a lot of postings to me.

So I scribby-scrolled through the lists, and chose the jobs I wanted. You may recall that a) my health is suffering and b) "I can't take this crap much longer," has entered my vocabulary a bit too often, therefore c) I need to transfer. I got really picky, though. I applied for three jobs:

1. Language Arts teacher: Online High School
2. Language Arts teacher: CEC
3. Language Arts teacher, IB program: High School

Please note the first one: that's the one I really want. It is so different, so removed from teaching in a classroom as I know it, that I believe I will be energized and renewed by it. That's my theory, and I'm sticking to it. And the more I think about it, the more benefits I see to teaching online:

• no sarcasm
• no cussing me out
• no setting the garbage can on fire
• no throwing spitwads, etc.
• no whining that I would be able to hear
• flexible scheduling
• snow day? no problem! I can still teach my class. Therefore, fewer sick days used up.
• wanna go to lunch? no problem! I can still teach my class.
• wanna blog? send email? chat? no problem!
  
• wanna sit and read a book that you want to teach? yes! do it! that's required!

I really, really, really want that job, but I'm trying not to want it too much, to avoid disappointment. Of course, I do want it too much, as evidenced by me using 3 "reallys."

The other jobs would be good, too. The CEC job would be good because it's college prep, and because the location is right along the Light Rail, so I wouldn't have to drive to work. Yay! Furthermore, the job description mentioned something about paying for mileage, which means I might be able to wring a bus pass out of them. Hmmm.

The third job would still be in a traditional high school, but it is in the International Baccalaureate (sp?) program, which translates into AP classes with a lot of rigor. Rrrrowwr.

So, here I sit, waiting for phone calls from principals for interviews. After 13 years of teaching, I still have that pang of worry, "Will they like me? Do they think I'm qualified?" Jesus H. Of course I'm qualified. If they don't like me, so what? They can suck it.

That's my theory, and I'm sticking to it.


--groovygrrl, queen of job interviews

I may have figured it out.

The reason teaching is so difficult nowadays.

Today, during a class in which I am the extra teacher, the students were behaving like complete twits. In this case, the definition of "complete twit, " is "someone who spits gum in another person's hair."

This alone may be reason enough to quit teaching: I wouldn't have to deal with people spitting in other people's hair. But I digress.

I ask you this: Which is worse, the person who did the spitting, or the person who was spit upon, but refuses to tell me who did it? This is when I think I figured out the problem. Students nowadays have no self-respect.

If they did, they would immediately draw attention to the idiot who was destroying their work environment, and ask that the offender be removed. Don't tell me that you didn't do that in school. I know I did. If you were gutless back then too, then I guess I'm not talking to you.

I'm talking to those of you who would, in the same situation, at age 13, spin around and yell, "Knock it off, dipwad! Stop spitting gum in my hair! What kind of animal are you?" and then tell the teacher. No, that doesn't happen today. Today, the kids say, in a very transparent manner, "I don't know who did it, miss," as they cast their eyes to the left.

Bullshit you don't know. You know. They all know. But they won't say who did it. Why? Either they have no respect for me (abot 50% of them), and enjoy watching the spectacle of a ruined work period, or they have no respect for themselves ( the other 50%) and won't tell me who it is. Is it out of fear? Do they really fear retribution from a moron?

I don't care anymore. I don't care if they are afraid. The person spitting gum in their hair is a goddamned idiot, and so are they if they're too gutless to protest.

Idiot cowards.


That's why teaching in public schools is so hard nowadays. The students have no self-respect. They have no respect for their own education, as well. They have no idea that people around the world don't have the oppportunity to go to school, like they do. They don't care about people around the world. Why should they?

They don't even care that they have gum in their hair.



--groovygrrl, queen of quitting teaching

Proof That I'm Working Too Hard

This never happens to me.

I woke up this morning to the sound of my alarm clock. I thought to myself, "What the hell? Why did I set my alarm on a Saturday?" I got up, turned it off, used the toilet, and went back to bed.
It's a great pleasure to be able to sleep in on Saturdays. My daughter doesn't get up until long after I'm awake, so I usually have some time to myself. I slept in for a while, and woke up again, this time to no alarm, of course. I heard the dogs whining to go out, and I thought to myself, "Gotta let the dogs out." I thought about what I would make for breakfast. "Waffles. I think I'll have waffles this morning. Ooh! And we have bacon, too! That'll be nice."
I then began to plan my morning in my head. I would make some breakfast. I would read the paper. I would play with my girl. Then, all of a sudden, I heard her voice. "Is she awake already?" I thought. I rolled over and turned on the monitor. Yep, there she was, talking to her toys. What a sweetie.
Streeeetch! I raised my arms up and had a good stretch. I then reached up and scratched my head. "Hmm, " I thought to myself, "My hair needs washing. I thought I was going to wash it on

Fffffffffffffrrrrrrriiiiiiiiiiiiiiiidaaaaaaaaay?
Holy shit!"

And, yes, you guessed it, today is NOT Saturday, but Friday. I was supposed to be at school 45 minutes previous to this. My students were already sitting in class, and I was at home, in bed.


Um......yeah, I think I'm working a little too hard, when I wake up and honestly believe that it's Saturday, when it's not.


Good lord.






--groovygrrl, queen of tardiness for no good reason

What I've got on my desk

The items on my desk include:

• a butter knife
• a purple marker
• a black ink pen
• my school keys
• an empty water bottle
• a bottle of hand lotion
• a package of pencils
• a package of pens
• a baggie of chocolate-covered almonds
• a pad of paper
• a pad of sticky notes
• my asthma inhaler
• two random sheets of paper
• a small pot of mints
• a paper-clip container
• some antibacterial hand gel
• some cologne I confiscated from a dork
• a heart-shaped Altoid tin, empty
• two photos: my baby, and my whole family
• my phone
• my computer, keyboard, and mouse.

I am so damned bored.



--groovygrrl, queen of zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

Tanned, Rested, and Ready

Ok, so I'm not tanned.

The past month has been a whirlwind of activity, as is usual, according to my previous posts. However, none of the excitement happened while I was in school:

On December 1, my husband went in for hernia surgery. That night, he vomited, and told his caretakers that he, "felt a pop." Well, they didn't check into it, and sent him home the next day anyway. That evening, he couldn't even lift his head. I had to lift a 350-pound man out of bed by myself. He was in agony all night, and in the morning, vomited again. When this happend, he bled out through his incision, which freaked me out, and his pain increased.

I got someone to watch our baby, and took him to the emergency room. They did a CT scan, and determined that he had popped all of the stitches that were made in his abdominal wall. They surmised that it had happened while he was still in the hospital that first night. (He felt a pop, remember?) I was going out of my mind by that point, angry that they had sent him home, and now he was back in the emergency room, etc. etc. I called for the patient advocate, and told her my story.

He had to go in for emergency surgery that day, right there, from the emergency room to surgery prep. He had two invasive surgeries within 72 hours.

Long story very short (I could go on for days, but I can't afford the energy loss right now), we did not have to pay the hospital bill for the second visit, because they agreed (of course they agreed, they knew they were negligent) that he should not have been sent home the first time.

My husband is recovering slowly. He is almost completely independent; he is restricted fromm lifting heavy objects, and that's it. I'm so grateful.

Because of all this, I was home for all of December. I had planned on taking December 1-3 off, anyway, but because of his second surgery, and because I made them keep him in the hospital the second time around, I had to take December 6-17 off. I had the sick days. That's what they're for, right? Someone had to watch the baby, anyway. He couldn't lift her. About the thrid and fourth weeks of December, I was able to relax. I did some reading, went to the library, visited with some friends. It was good for a while.

And now, I'm back at school. I have declared the nightmare to be over, and things are looking up. I have been writing my book, and I have been scheduling time for some art projects, etc. I'm trying to find some fun in every day. It's difficult at this job, but I manage.

The most difficult part of my day is keeping my spirits up. It's very difficult to be a teacher. The children are never the problem for me; it is always the bullshit paperwork and politics that drive me nuts. Every year I am being asked to do more and more layers of paperwork, and that takes me away from time with students. Nuts, nuts, nuts.

So I do small things to lift my spirits, like wearing my hair in pigtails every Friday, and wearing old-school Converse All-Stars (red, leather, low-tops). I make the kids dance the hokey-pokey when they're losing steam. I try to streamline my paperwork so I can spend time with the kiddos.

I hope everyone reading this can make a choice today that will make your life better. I am writing a book that will sell thousands of copies and make me a lot of money. What are you going to do to make this year incredible?



--groovygrrl, queen of inspiration

Unreal

it's all the same

Okay, so I haven't posted in almost a month. I was thinking it was about time that I gave y'all an update. (for "y'all" you should read "nobody"...who the hell reads my shit?)

I just read my last post, wondering how long it's been. It may as well have been yesterday. All I have to say is the same old shit. I am just becoming more and more exhausted as each day passes. Last week, I had to take a day off from work, simply because I couldn't hold my head up anymore. Seriously. I called in while in a prone position; it was all I could manage.

And today, I got my period. I know, I know, nobody wants to hear about that, but it's important because I just had one 14 days ago. For those of you who are men or are completely on drugs, that's 2 whole weeks too early. What the hell?

I'm worried about my husband's surgery, which they can't seem to schedule. I think the doctors would rather he died, because it would free up their schedule. He also went to a sleep apnea clinic the other day. I'm worried about his health, and who is going to watch our baby while he is recovering. I found someone for one week, but that's it, and that's all we can afford, anyway.

Furthermore, I am being worked to death at school. I take every planning period and lunch period to write IEPs and deal with other paperwork. Every year, more and more layers of paperwork crap are piled on us. I am running from the minute I get there until the minute I leave.

Big surprise I'm exhausted.

How is it possible, then, that I have nothing to show for all of this work?

--groovygrrl, queen of nothing

Exhausting jobs.

or "Why The Hell Are We So Tired?

I've been getting enough sleep. I sleep like the dead! It's not that.

I've been eating a balanced diet. In fact, I've changed my diet to be healthier. It's not that.

I've been walking 2.5 miles, at least 5 days per week. That's only good for energy and stamina, right? So it's not that.

It's gotta be the teaching, man. It's gotta be the teaching.

Public school teaching is exhausting. I am going, going, going, every minute of every day. I am typing this at home, in the evening, before collapsing in bed. I am impressed that my fingers can move enough to type this. Voice recognition software is looking pretty good right now.

Steve and I were talking today about our exhaustion. He's exhausted, too, and he teaches at the same school as I do. We compared the factors I listed above, and came to the conlusion that we work our asses off. For some reason, while we're in it, it doesn't feel like that. But once we sit our asses down to relax, we want to fall asleep, immediately! What the hell?

We're all glad that we have two days off next week. "Fall Break," they call it. I think it should be called "October Mental Health Break for Teachers."

We might go bowling.

--groovygrrl, queen of finally posting, once

It passed.

But we won't see any increase until our paycheck at the end of October. Probably. *sigh*

--groovygrrl, queen of crap salary

3 grand

...if it passes.

I have voted FOR the proposed salary agreement for Big School District. Yes, it sucks that we did not get a raise last year. Yes, it sucks that the district did not automatically make up the difference for increased insurance costs. Yeah, it sucks that we had to rally with signs and snarkiness to get the district to notice that, yes, teachers actually EXIST, and teachers actually do have bills to pay and families to feed, and that we are NOT volunteers.

Whatever.


In any case, I looked at the proposed salary schedule. Including the increase in pay and the fact that we get a step raise, I should receive $3,000 more per year. I've got to take it. I can't turn that down. It will be about $180.00 per month more, after taxes, etc. That goes a long way toward paying for our living expenses every month. At this point, we are going into debt a small amount each month.

TEACHING PAY SUCKS!

I would like some responses to this one. I want to hear from someone who has been working in the same career for 12 years, AND who has 84 graduate credit hours (a Master's degree is included). I want to know what you get paid.


--groovygrrl, queen of financial creativity

Steve's contribution

oh, it's a good one.

My friend Steve sent me an email, giving details about the place where he will be attending a conference today. As the "Literacy Coach" for our school, he has to attend all sorts of meetings. To that, I say, "Ha-ha!"

So, he knows that I hate how Our School District has no money to pay us, but finds all sorts of money for irrelevant things. He therefore looked up a review of the inn where his conference will be held. Yes, the name of the place is, in fact, "The Lumber Baron." Yes, we both had pornographic thoughts when we saw this name. Yes, we joked about it heartily. Yes, you will read his email.........now.

i will be attending an ELA conference today at an establishment known as "the lumber baron." incredulous, i looked it up and saw this description:

DENVER'S MOST ROMANTIC INN.

i did further research and found this review of the most romantic bed & breakfast in denver:

Our formal, evening wedding was ruined by the lack of customer service at the Lumber Baron Inn. For starters, the Innkeeper was on vacation and left an incompetent replacement who demaded I remove the previous wedding's decorations. I had mistaken her for the cleaning staff, as she was dressed in shorts and a wrinkled short-sleeved shirt. No attempt was made to provide hand towels in the back garden after it rained lightly before the ceremony, and she spent most of the evening making personal calls from the back office or setting up for another event scheduled for the next morning. After discovering that the air conditioners in three of the five rooms were not working, the Innkeeper (with whom we spoke on the phone) did not apologize and made no suggestions of what to. In fact, he seemed annoyed that we disturbed him on his vacation. So, at 1:30am, we were searching the house for the circut breaker box. The replacement staff member locked up the house and left the property for the evening and the morning breakfast was inedible. We still have not received an apology from the Innkeeper for ruining our wedding day.

put that in your blog and smoke it.

~steve


Done and done, Steve. Thanks for your contribution. Don't forget your knee pads, today, at Denver's Most Romantic Inn, where teachers congregate for "educational purposes."

*snort*

--groovygrrl, queen of friendship

Got it!

I think I've finally got it...


It's been bugging the shit out of me. I've got this idea for a novel, an adolescent novel, the next Harry Potter really, if you want to know the truth, but for the life of me it wasn't working.

I mean, I had it, the idea, some of the story, a few characters, and then they started talking in my head even, but when I tried to write it down, it wouldn't work. It would be stilted, boring, annoying and cliche´d. It was awful.

Not totally awful, though. The kids liked it, last year. The intro was all wrong, and the protagonist shouldn't be a girl, he should be a boy;that way he can be more of an observer. All of the elements are falling into place.

Now, when am I going to write this down? It's just floating around in my head all the time.
--groovygrrl, queen of novel ideas

End of the first week

...and I've already been to a rally.

The rally was to support the mediation team for the teachers' union. The district wouldn't work anything out so that we could have a pay raise. We didn't get our raise last year, and it appeared as if we wouldn't get one this year, either. I just read on a press release from the district that "mediation is over," so something has happened. Is it good? Is it bad? I don't know.

What I do know is I am on a personal boycott of extracurricular activities, meetings, etc. I will "work to the rule," and nothing more. If my work doesn't get done in 8 hours, then it doesn't get done. Not only did we not get a raise, but I am not paid equally for someone with my number of graduate credit hours.

For those of you who think I'm whiny, please realize that the demands being placed on public school teachers increase every year, while our compensation does not. The media derides public education, and everyone seems to have an opinion about our job, and how we should do it. However, few of these people have an idea of what it's like to teach in a public school. As it is right now, I have to work a part-time job (freelance teaching at the University) just so we don't have to go into debt every month.

Don't worry. I'm still working toward self-employment. I'm still writing and working on things that will give me my own raise. Nobody else is going to do it.

--groovygrrl, queen of malcontent

Deluge

it's happening again...

The school year is starting, and already the deluge of crap has begun. I was going to share S's room; now I have to set up my own room, with no advance notice. S was going to be able to support me with all my sped kids in one room; now he will not be able to support me at all, because of scheduling conflicts. I don't know all of the needs of my kids, because I haven't had time to find their paperwork. The kids show up tomorrow, and I have a room without a computer, overhead projector, or even enough chairs.

I'm just giving it up to the kids. They are going to take ownership of setting up the room. With me as supervisor, of course.

gotta go walk home. This is a bunch of crap. Gotta let go.

--groovygrrl, queen of problem-solving

Back to work.

Yeah, it sucks.

I'm back at work today, albeit on my own time. I thought to myself, "Self, you can get a lot of work done in your office, instead of facing the pleasant distractions at home, i.e. your precious daughter that says, "hey, baybeh," in the cutest little manner. Go to work and get something done!"

Yeah, yeah, here I am. I entered my office, pushed the button on my computer, pushed the button on my stereo, and got confused. My stereo did not turn on. I checked the computer: nope. The outlet obviously didn't work. My new furniture arrangement is beautiful, yes; technologically helpful, no.

Off, in search of extension cords, and my friend A. was available to rescue me. Thank god I'm friends with the school accountant. Of course, I get all the cords I want, because I'm working 10 days ahead of schedule. You snooze, you lose.

Isn't it sick that I think extension cords are some sort of bonus in my life?

The cord situation worked. I started up the computer, and was faced with logging on. My other very good friend, M., is the tech person here. (I choose my friends wisely.) She set up my computer, with accounts and passwords, and other such gloivin. The password didn't work, of course! It took me a few minutes to figure one out, on one of the accounts.

The emails I sent myself, with attachments of documents that I need, didn't all show up. I couldnt' do the writing work that I wanted. I forgot other documents at home.

*sigh*

So, I've been setting stuff up on the computer, and enjoying some time to myself. Tomorrow the real work will start. I have to scrub out the mold that formed on the inside of my personal refrigerator. *cringes*




--groovygrrl, queen of getting stuff done eventually

Pay cut. Nice.

I am NOT making this up.

Yep! This is the second year in a row that we teachers in Big School District have received no cost of living adjustment (i.e. a teeny weeny raise). Second year in a row! Thanks for valuing me, Big School District.

Furthermore, to add insult to injury, to pour salt on a gaping, festering wound, Big School District is not making up the difference for the raise in health insurance premiums. Therefore, our current paycheck reflects a pay CUT. On my check, this means $64.84 less than last month. Over the whole year, it means $778.08 has been cut from my salary.

Thanks, Big School District. I can't wait to run back to school in the fall, to bust my ass in a non-air-conditioned building, smelling the sweat from the newly-hairy armpits of 13-year olds.


Love it.



--groovygrrl, queen of poverty

The crackheads pay up.

It's because I expected nothing, I think.


That, and I am a KICK-ASS WRITER! Please read the letter I finally sent them, after the dishwasher was NOT DELIVERED on the specified day:

Ms. Alex Mastro
Store Manager, Sears
2375 E. 1st Ave.
Denver, CO 80206

Dear Ms. Mastro:

I have an unfortunate story for you. I hope you have time to read it, because it is about my experience with Sears, and your store in particular. I suggest you sit down.
On July 7, 2004, I went to Sears to purchase a dishwasher. I had visited before to find the one I wanted, and I had saved enough money so that I could purchase it outright, instead of relying on credit. A sales associate helped me with the purchase, but during the course of the transaction, we had to switch computers/cash machines. She swiped my debit card once on one machine, and once on the other.
“Please don’t charge my card twice,” I said to her.
“Oh, no, ma’am, it didn’t even go through at all. I voided it out,” she replied to me.
Alas, as you may be able to guess, this was not the case. My card was, indeed, charged twice. The void did not go through for several days. During this time, I was charged an overdraft fee by my bank, which was deleted after I traveled to the bank myself, to at least correct that error.
You can imagine my dismay when I saw that my card had been charged twice. Perhaps you can imagine my despair, when I realized that I was unable to use my debit card until these charges were actually voided. At this point, my bank balance was $0.00. I talked with Heather, in your Human Resources department, and she was very pleasant to me, and attempted to help. Of course, nothing could be done. (This will be a theme, here; stay tuned.)
Heather had told me to wait until Saturday, (I purchased the dishwasher on Wednesday), to see if the charges righted themselves. In my unwavering hope that there is something good happening in the universe, I checked my bank account on Friday. Can you guess what I found? No need; I’ll tell you. I had been charged yet again, for the dishwasher. This time, the charge came from a Sears store in Cadillac, Michigan. (Cadillac, Michigan? Why?) At this point, my bank account was at negative $400.00.
At the point that I discovered the third charge on my checking account, I was almost out of my mind. I am the only person supporting my family financially, you see. All of the money that we had to live on for the rest of the month was in my checking account. I could not use the account, because Sears had hijacked it. Since it was 10pm on a Friday, I did what any woman would do, who had been driven insane by Sears: I went out back and hand-watered my lawn, while crying my eyes out.
“How will I feed my family? What am I going to do? What did I do to deserve this?” These and other desperate questions went through my mind, until the lawn was sufficiently soaked, and I had rid myself of the massive amounts of adrenaline shooting through my veins, induced from the shock of my bank account balance.
Having been driven insane, I tried yet again to get someone to help me. The folks in your human resources department, while pleasant, could do nothing, of course (I told you there was a theme, here). Did they offer to make it better? Did they offer to do something monetarily, so I could at least cover my baby’s butt with a clean diaper? No, they couldn’t, you see. I was told repeatedly that there was “nothing they could do.” This is, apparently, the mantra of the “Customer Service” department at Sears.
Are you still seated? I hope so, because this story gets quite riveting. And you thought it was over! Alas, no. There are more problems to report. The delivery time for my alleged dishwasher (I now have doubts of its very existence) was for today, July 19, 2004. I called the company to confirm the delivery, and they did so, telling me the alleged dishwasher would arrive and be installed between 2pm and 5pm.
Ms. Mastro, please tell me that you can guess what happened. If you can’t, I really need to work on my foreshadowing skills. Of course, the dishwasher was not delivered. I called the company, and the woman told me that she had called me back, and didn’t I get her message? No, I did not.
Best Yet Lady: “But ma’am, I called you back about an hour after you confirmed. I left you a message letting you know that the dishwasher was backordered until July 23.”
Maligned Customer: “I have received no phone calls on my phone. It lets me know if I have missed a call, and if I have any messages. I have no messages, and no calls.”
Best Yet Lady: “Oh, well, I left a message on someone’s phone. It was kind of a generic message, saying something like, ‘you know what to do.’”
Maligned Customer: “That is not my voice mail. I have my name on my voice mail.”
Best Yet Lady: “Oh, ma’am, I am so sorry. I must have mis-dialed.”
Maligned Customer: “Yes, well, we have been waiting here all day for this delivery.”
Best Yet Lady: “Well, ma’am, I am sorry for that. Our drivers went to the warehouse and they were informed that model has been backordered.”

I’ll leave you with that short version of the conversation. Can you guess what that woman could do about the situation? Of course: nothing.
I have had nothing but grief in my life since I walked into your Sears store at 2375 E. 1st Ave. in Denver. I have had overdraft charges on my checking account, which were unwarranted. I have had my checking account held hostage, because Sears charged it 3 times. I have had to wait for 7 days total before my account was back to “normal,” and I could actually purchase things with cash. (My cash! Not Sears’.) I have received an insufficient funds notice from my bank. Furthermore, and most importantly, I have wasted my time. I have spent countless hours worrying about how I was going to feed my family. I have spent hours in the Human Resources department of your store, crying because I had a negative account balance. I have spent hours crying in my backyard, desperate for answers.
Of course, I know the answer, and so do you. The only answer that I have received, from anyone, is this: “I’m sorry, but there’s nothing we can do.”
Ms. Mastro, is this true? Because if it is, then Sears is telling a loyal customer that my time is worth nothing. Furthermore, I am being told the same by companies that Sears hires to deliver appliances. I have wasted my time, my energy, and my sanity dealing with Sears. This is the worst customer service experience I have ever had. My money has been held hostage, my dishwasher has been backordered with no notice to me, and my time is supposedly worth nothing.
Oh, I’m sorry. Not “nothing!” Your associate in Human Resources (I don’t remember his name; he did not give me his card), told me that I might be offered 10% off my purchase, IF the charges didn’t clear from my account and I had to go back there again. Oh, I see. Only if MORE of my time is wasted will a scrap be thrown from the corporate table that is Sears.
If I added up all of the actual hours I have spent on this problem, including going to the bank several times, going to Sears several times, waiting for a non-existent delivery, and typing this tome, the cost is far more than I paid for the dishwasher. This is not an exaggeration. I multiplied it out, using my hourly rate of pay as the base. A bargain isn’t a bargain, if I have to sacrifice my sanity and hours and hours of time to receive the appliance.
Ms. Mastro, what is Sears prepared to do to make me satisfied that I made the right decision to purchase an appliance from Sears? As you can imagine, I am thinking quite the opposite right now. Before you answer, please know that I am a loyal Sears customer. I purchased a washer and dryer and a lawnmower there a few years ago. I did not look anywhere else when I was looking for a dishwasher.
Ms. Mastro, I would appreciate an answer to one more question. I think I’ve earned it. My question is: What did I do to deserve this?




Well, Ms. Alex Mastro gave me a call, and offered to give me 50% back on my purchase. She complimented me no less than 4 times on my "well-written" letter, and apologized for everything that happened. She even sent me the receipt of the money she returned to me (electronically, of course. I was skeptical, but ready to hire a lawyer if they took any more money). The deposit went through. It was a nice gesture, I guess. I'm still leery of shopping at Sears again.

Therefore, the above letter is a sample for my writing portfolio. I can honestly claim that it was effective.

--groovygrrl, queen of snarky letter-writing

What the hell is going on?

...my life is bizarre.

It's been going on for over a week now. The bizarre-ass crap. The crackheads were trying to steal my money. That got worked out, thank god. I still couldn't access my bank account for 5 days, though. Bastards.
My baby hasn't been taking a regular nap. This led to her crying non-stop for an hour on the day that I had planned an outing with friends. Had to cancel. Felt like I was abusing my baby. Cried.
I can't motivate myself to clean anything, sew anything, or do anything productive besides read. I feel like I want to get something done, I'll get up to do it, and then I'll say to myself, "Screw it. I'll do it later."
Oh, and I haven't been sleeping, either.
So, to fix all of this, I went to get my feet done. The best foot girl in the business worked on me, and she even painted flowers on my big toes. Flowers! I feel so much better, but I still need a nap.



--groovygrrl, queen of depressive states

My monthly blog

...for summer!

Whatever! This is part of the reason I haven't been writing: the crackheads who work at Sears Roebuck keep charging me, over and over, for the 1 (one) dishwasher I purchased. I have spent many hours in anguish, talking to the bank, and screaming at the crackheads, to no avail.


"You just have to wait," they say.


"But don't you see this?" I shriek, "My bank account had zero (0) dollars in it yesterday! Now, it has NEGATIVE 400 dollars! Why are you people stealing my money? How am I going to feed my family?"


Sears crackhead says, "Yes, I know, it sucks, but there's nothing we can do but wait."


After all that, and not being able to access my bank account, they tell me "it sucks." This is why I try to avoid crackheads.


I guess I'll go check my bank statement online; not that it will matter.



--groovygrrl, queen of purchasing dishwashers

A plain ol' log.

I do more before 9am than the Army does.

Well, maybe not. Let's see:

5:24am: I get up. Girlie gets up. I get her some milk. She plays in her crib while I read.

6am: breakfast.

7am: water flowers. Weed small flower bed.

7:30am: Take Girlie to park for walk. Walk 2.something miles.

9am: return home. Put Girlie in bed for first nap of the day.

9:30am: run errands. Bank. Go to library. Get pulled over by cop because I turned right when I shouldn't have (the road had a little "jog" in it...I didn't know...he only warned me..hooray).

11:00am: have coffee with girlfriend. Talk for ever. Happy happy.

1pm: go home for lunch.


Well...maybe not as much as the Army.



--groovygrrl, queen of balance

On Vacation in Iowa

Aaaah....

Iowa is great this time of year. The river is flooding the fields, the deer are overpopulated and wander very close to the highways, and the mosquito population has increased by a power of 10, just from yesterday!

It's not that bad, actually. The sun came out today, after 4 days of rain, and it really felt nice. Last night there was a full moon shining down on us, and there were all sorts of crickets and frogs singing about it. I have been sleeping more this week than I have in the past 10 months. It's been very relaxing.

However, we must STOP EATING. All my parents do is cook us dinner or take us out to dinner. Of course, we feel compelled to eat what is put in front of us. As a result, we will be able to roll home to Denver under our own steam. It's getting desperate. I think a fast is in order.

As much as I am enjoying myself, I am starting to look forward to going home. Well, not going home, but being home. We still have to drive across Iowa and Nebraska and 1/3 of Colorado, with a toddler in the back seat.

At least we will be refreshed for the trip.

--groovygrrl, queen of holidays

Your final exam.

Don't worry, it's easy.

There is one, and only one question on your exam. Please remember to get enough sleep and eat a healthy breakfast before taking this exam. I will not be held responsible for those who do not follow the directions.

Directions: Answer the question in complete sentences. Extra points will be awarded for sarcasm.


1. Which morning is better than THIS morning?




Go ahead....take your time....think about it.....




...you can do it.....no pressure.....



Ok, time's up! And the answer is:



Tomorrow morning! That's because TODAY WAS THE LAST DAY OF SCHOOL, AND TOMORROW IS THE BEGINNING OF VACATION! YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY!


So? How did you do on your exam? Don't worry if you didn't get the answer right. That just means you don't work in public school. :)

--groovygrrl, queen of vacation


p.s. I have changed my voice mail in honor of summer vacation. In a nutshell, it tells people that if they are calling me from work, about work, not to bother to leave a message, because I won't answer it. If you want to call to invite me to summer fun times, then go right ahead. :)

Best Monday of the Year

...it's Today!

Yes folks, today is the best Monday EVER, because it is the last Monday of the year. When I was leaving the house today, I said to my wee daughter, "Only 3 more days of work, honey! Then mama will be home!" It was so refreshing to realize that. I suppose it is somewhat refreshing to know that I will actually make it to the end of the year, and not collapse in a puddle of rage and uncertainty. It's been known to happen.

I am still in a bit of a frenzy, however. End of the school year and all that, y'know. Perhaps you don't know. Perhaps you have to work through the summer, while I get to sleep late (a lie), take long walks in the park (a truth), and spend the whole summer gardening (also a truth).

Whoever made the first kitschy thing at a craft fair that said, "What are the best three things about teaching? June, July, and August!" was not only being very cheesy, but very truthful. I can't believe I'm ending today's blog with a quote from a craft fair tchotchke. good lord.

You see? The children steal my brain!

--groovygrrl, queen of craft fairs

Rally Monkey!

...dang. I left him at home.

I am participating in a rally today, outside of the administration offices for Big School District. We are attempting to make the school board aware of our dissatisfaction with the budget decisions which do not make teacher pay and professional judgment a priority.

My husband and daughter will march with me! My sign says:

Teacher
Tax-paying Family
Big School District $elling my
daughter's future
short!

The media have been alerted. With my husband and baby, and this sign, I'm thinking the front page of tomorrow's paper is possible. Stay tuned!


--groovygrrl, queen of stickin'-it'-to-the-man!

Lime Rickeys, Take 2

...they sell them in the grocery store!

Seriously!

I wanted some soda for yesterday (we've been off soda in our house...trying to cut down), so I strolled down the aisle at our local Safeway. I picked up some Safeway brand, diet Black Cherry soda (75 cents for a six-pack), and saw, DIET CHERRY LEMON-LIME SODA!

They sell Cherry Lime Rickeys! In the store! FOR CHEAP!


I was in heaven. I drank two of them with dinner.

--groovygrrl, queen of limey bargains

Had it!

...I have absolutely had it.


I appealed to the principal of our school today. Yesterday, when 4 teachers had to restrain a student from kicking another student's ass, and then neither of the students get suspended, I've had it. After we had a general outcry of harumphing about this, both boys were suspended. But it took a lot of harumphing.

Why? Why the hell is there a question about whether or not to suspend a kid? It is May 13, for gods' sake! If they don't know how to behave by now, they aren't going to get it! Get them out of here!

Callous, you say? Bad teacher I am, you say? Talking like Yoda I am, you say?

To that I say, "Tough cookies! You come teach them! You come try to teach a group of kids who actually WANT to learn, but can't, because I have to deal with passive-agressive bullshit when a kid won't even leave the class when she's kicked out!" (She actually started arguing with the principal, when I called him up to escort her out. He got my point.)

We have 8 1/2 days of school left . Somebody mix me a martini, quick. I may not make it.

--groovygrrl, queen of self-medication

What the hell is a 'lime rickey'?

...because I think I love them.

At the end of the school year, (read: right now) the teachers start to get antsy. They are short-tempered, often off-task, and they go out to lunch a lot more than they used to. They also might have to double their doses of Prozac, as I'm sure you can all imagine.

To wit (about the lunch, not the Prozac): S. told me he was going to Sonic for his lunch today, and did I want a cherry limeade? Of course, I said, "...huuuyeah!" I said this because I love that cherry limeade.

And here he is, even as I write this: he enters my classroom, bearing the aforementioned cherry limeade, which will henceforth be referred to as the "cherry lime rickey."

Where the hell did that title for a drink come from? What makes something a "rickey?" Is it the carbonation? The combination of flavors? Or is it a rickey, as Descartes might observe, simply because I say so?

All I know is, this cherry lime rickey is delicious. It is also the envy of the students, who are all begging me to have some. To them, I say, "Nay!" and slurp away.


Payback for all the crap I've been taking from them this year.


--groovygrrl, queen of *ssslllllluuuuuurrrrrp!*

gone fishin'

...it's all about the Benjamins.

So I discovered that there are positions open at the alternative high school where I had the best teaching experience of my life. I checked into it, and if they place me on the salary schedule where I think I deserve to be, I'll be making a lot more money than I am now.

"But!" I thought to myself, "this is the same district that let you go 6 years ago. Perhaps you should hold on to your grudge?"

"No," I replied to myself, " I should let the grudge go. I loved teaching at that school. Just because the people running the district are short-sighted doesn't mean I shouldn't go back. That teaching position is just too awesome. Plus, are you going to turn down money in your pocket because of some stupid feelings?"

And to that, I replied, as any "good American" would: "Of course not."

Therefore, I'm goin' on a fishin' expedition. I'm going to apply for the position, and see what happens. If nothing happens, I still have my current job.

Added benefit: It will annoy my current principal. Hee.


--groovygrrl, queen of money management

I am so worried

...and I can't help feeling ashamed.

My dog, Lusa, has problems with her eyes. She has this weird gunk creeping up over it. We've been to the vet 3 times in 5 months, and have been giving her eyedrops (as best we can...she is squirmy), and eye ointment, and it's just been getting worse.

Now, I have to take her to an animal opthomalogist. No kidding. I'm glad such a person exists, because I just want my dog to be able to see. I believe she has no vision in her right eye right now, and her left eye is clouding up quickly. If they can get the gunk off her eyes, tell me what it is, and give me something to help prevent it, I swear I'll figure out a way to pay for it.

I feel so bad.

--groovygrrl, queen of sadness

Chastised!

I am a lazy ass!

Ok, Paula. I'm posting.

Paula chastised me for not writing. This is warranted; I have been ignoring my chance to blog and blog some more!

Here goes:

Since my last blog, things have been interesting. On April 2, we had another Middle School social. Instead of selling pizza and pop, I got to do face painting. Much more fun! I discovered that I am pretty good at it, and now I'm thinking I should park my ass at some farmer's markets or seek out some other, low-level festivals, and do some cheapo face-painting with watercolors, to make a buck or two. We'll see.

After the social, we had Spring Break! Hooray! We traveled to sunny St. George, Utah, otherwise known as "The Desert Retirement Community that Desperately Wants to Be the Next Miami." In a few years, it could be. Why are they developing all these homes, and then plunking palm trees down, in the desert? They look stupid. There are lots of other developments out there that are all in desert colors and decor, that don't have palm trees. Nice tile, rust or brown, or gray colors. They look ok.

Zion National Park is gorgeous! Driving through Utah is gorgeous! It's all so pretty! I thoroughly enjoyed myself. I am tanned, rested, and ready.

Ok, not ready. Yesterday, for our "staff development" we went up to Balarat Outdoor Environmental Whatever, and did a ropes course. This is a huge structure where you walk on ropes, while someone supports you from the ground on a tether. I was walking on a rope about 30 feet in the air. It was frightening and fun at the same time. My face is now sunburned, and my muscles are screaming at me. My jeans are also covered in mud on the butt area, where I fell in the mud when I jumped off the truck. It completed the experience of the day.

Now I am sitting at school, blogging instead of working. It's ok. I did real paperwork during my lunch hour. We have 6 1/2 weeks left of school.


I'll make it.


--groovygrrl, queen of perseverance

It's not working.

...the fitness plan, I mean.

I can't get enough sleep, so I end up "sleeping in" until 6am, and driving to work.

Gotta change some things.

--groovygrrl, queen of personal reflection

Monday Morning Coffee Buzz

...it's a good thing.

Aaah. Monday morning. The guy on the radio just said, "Mostly sunny and 70 today." Eat your heart out, Iowans. I drove as far as Broadway today, when I realized that I forgot my office keys at home. Good thing I left early. I walked to work 4 days last week, so my keys were still in my backpack. Since I drove today, I took my purse. I still don't have my rhythm down for transferring keys. Go figure. It's Monday.

This weather has me longing for summer break. I get to have one, this year, because of the wisdom of my advisor/professor at the University. She brought up, in their weekly faculty meeting, that she thought I had enough internship hours, and why were they making me do another one? They all agreed that I have spent more than enough time and money convincing them that I can teach, and they waived the elementary internship for me. That means I don't have to do it this summer. Whee!

That doesn't get me out of the class I'm taking now. It is both stupid and brutal. It has a ton of work each week, and much of it is repeated from my previous years in graduate school. I have to finish it, however, because it means another endorsement to my teaching license. I still have a few more years to teach before I can quit, therefore I need this endorsement. *sigh*

On a lighter note, my baby has started saying actual words. They aren't perfectly formed, but she knows what she is saying. Her words? "Brush" and "bye-bye." She says "bsh" for brush, and makes a movement to brush her hair. If I then give her the brush, she says "bsh!" and actually brushes her hair. So cute! My mom taught her to say "bye-bye" and wave, just this weekend! She has been clapping a lot, too. She is just a precious little monkey.

One more item of note for today: I am sitting in for our student advisor at school today. She needed a paperwork day, so they asked me to fill in. That means I will be the one to deal with all the kids who are sent out of class for disruptions and general tomfoolery. As Homer Simpson once said, "I got a hankerin' for some spankerin'!" No, no. We don't spank the children. Much. :)



--groovygrrl, queen of starbucks

The Moral Obligation of Stupid People

...is to either wise up, or shut up.

So I was talking to my girlfriend, S. the other day. She was telling me this small story about her crazy sister. This sister is a quite intolerant sort, and happens to be an evangelical Christain, to boot. She is a self-professed homophobe, among other things. Just a short history, for reference.

The big point that made me put my head in my hands was this: The sister, B. said to S., "Have you gone to see The Passion of the Christ yet?"

S. replied, "No, I don't think I want to. It looks pretty gruesome."

Then B. said, (I am not kidding)" S., it is your moral obligation to God to see this movie!"

S. was a bit shocked by this statement, since she didn't generally rely on her sister for moral or spiritual guidance. S. replied to her sister, "Well, that may be, but I don't know if I want to support a film that is potentially Anti-Semitic."

Now, here's the "head in her hands" moment. B. replied,"What does that mean?"

S. said, "What? What does what mean?"

B. said, "Anti-Semitic. What is that?"

*big open eyes from me...shaking my head...putting my head in my hands*

Yep. That does it. If you are smart, and want to proselytize, go for it. I'll probably not talk to you, anyway, but at least you'll understand the word "proselytize," and will probably be gracious about it when I tell you I would rather not discuss your issues.


If you are and evangelical Christian, and do not know what the term "Anti-Semitism" means, then your moral obligation to society is to shut the hell up.

Does this make me appear intolerant? Perhaps. However, I would like to state that B. has every right to follow whatever spiritual path she wants. My point is, if you are stupid, then perhaps you shouldn't follow a spiritual path that demands you recruit for your cause, because you are going to end up looking stupider than you are.

Of course, if you have read this far and are actually stupid, then I bet you have a puzzled look on your face. No problem. I'll fix it for you:

Hey! Stupid people! Zip it!


--groovygrrl, queen of intolerant rants

Walking, Gardening, and Tae Bo, oh my.

...it's a tall order.

So I get this email from my friend A. "It's time to register for summer softball!" Good grief! I'm still recovering from last year's softball season. Granted, it was only a few months after I had my baby, and I probably had no business out on the field. It was fun while it lasted, but my muscles were so sore the next day!

So! I have decided, because I am a lunatic, to train for softball this year. My plan? Walking to school at least 4 days per week, lots of gardening (some in the evenings and some on the weekends), and Tae Bo whenever I can. Yeah. That oughta do it.

Now, I don't know how soon all of this can be phased in. I mean, I'm a busy person. However, my husband was looking at some photos the other day, and commented about his own appearance, saying, "Man. I've gotta lose weight." So, I have someone that I can encourage along with me. We'll see. I hope all of you who know me now have a mental image of me with my husband, fake-kickboxing in the basement, along with Billy Blanks. Yes, you should be laughing.

Perhaps I'll get him to help with the gardening, first.

--groovygrrl, queen of fitness

What kindofa log is this?

...my last post was on Monday!

And here we are, at Friday, and I finally have one minute (literally) to spend on blogging. Such is the life of a teacher, and I hate it more and more each day. The stupid politics. The incessant gossip. The ridiculous requirements for employment, either initial or continued.

Every day, I am closer and closer to chucking it all.

I think my posts make me appear manic-depressive (bipolar?). Unfortunately, that is not the case. If I were bipolar, I could take medication to help me get through this. Unfortunately, if I were to do that right now, it would not be considered "helping, it would be considered "drinking on the job."

I'm not at that point. :)


--groovygrrl, queen of ribaldry

I need an Art Day

...a serious one.

This Friday night, I am going to a class for my sewing machine. The class came free with the purchase (It should be free! This thing is expensive!). I am looking forward to it for a couple of reasons:

a) It' free
and
b) It has nothing to do with my job.

I will miss my baby for a bit, but I am excited to learn all the things this machine can do. I'm almost done with the quilt for Baby Girl. I know this class is going to be fun.

So I've got that on my mind, and I was watching HGTV the other day, when this woman starts showing how to use copper tubing to create a trellis for the garden. It is so easy! I mean, the soldering might put some people off, but because I am skilled with stained glass work, it appears very very easy. I then got the idea to make some triangle/tipi/pyramid shaped flower trellises, with straight sides, and one snaky spiral of some skinny copper tubing wrapping around it, up to the top. Plant some morning glories, moonflowers, or other climby-viney things (clematis!), then sit back and watch the fireworks. I like it!

So. When will I find the time to do this? It is very much like taking a day off from school: I need a day off from my life, to do this! I am plagued with cool ideas, and no time in which to bring them to fruition. *sigh*

--groovygrrl, queen of unfinished projects

What Happened Last Week

...I'll just post the emails.

What follows are the emails (names omitted) that went back-and-forth from me to the teacher who completely lost all decorum and freaked out while I was teaching. I don't know if it will be clear to all what happened, or not. To teachers, it will be clear and appalling. To the rest of you, it goes like this: there is an unwritten rule of classroom management, in which if one teacher/administrator tells a student to do something, any other teacher just butts out and lets that person handle it. That way, the students get a clear idea that the adults have solidarity, and they can't play one off the other. It is very important to be this way in a middle school.

*sigh* Anyway, here are the emails, in order. I wrote the first one, and she wrote me back. Then I wrote one more, and that's been it so far. Please note the dearth of apology on her part.

A-----,

I had asked to speak with you privately, because what I had to say was not appropriate to say in front of the children. Therefore, I will tell you via email.

1. I was beginning the class, and you were not there. Therefore, I had to make decisions about how the class was going to move forward. I had asked Raysha to leave, because she had said, "F---you," to another student. I told her to wait for me. I was going to deal with her when I got a minute.

2. I then asked N----- to join her, because she called M------ a "stupid retard." I was going to deal with her when I got a minute.

3. That is the way I work, when I am running a class. You made it very clear to me, and to the whole class, that you feel I cannot control the class, and that you would rather they answer to you. You made this clear by bringing those children back in, and dressing me down in front of the class, after I had asked them to stay out and wait for me. You made it even more clear when you began to lecture them about wasting time, and asking them to apologize to me. You also made it clear, to the class and to me, that you do not think I am capable of teaching the class, because you came back in and started dictating what we were going to do.

4. When I tried to talk with you about this, you indicated that you did not want to talk about it. This tells me that you did not approve of the way I was doing things.

5. I had previously received E----'s email about students in the hall. However, I was about to proceed with the lesson in such a way that I could go deal with the situation. I was handling it in my way.

6. My conclusions, after this interaction are that you:

a. think I have no control over the class.
b. are not comfortable with me teaching your class.
and c. would rather I wasn't there.


I would like to conclude by letting you know that I feel insulted by your actions today.


Her response to me is as follows (please note that her first comment about mediation came from her conversation with the principal. I had gone to him, letting him know that I might need mediation in this matter):


A--,

I do not think mediation is necessary. I do, however, think it is important that are methods of resolution are similar. I do not think it is ever appropriate to have students out of the hall without being supervised. I usually send them to Mr. H----, our student advisor, or remove them from the group. We can discuss if this is okay with you, but is important that we are on the same page. I also think it would be good for you to have more opportunities for instruction, so the students will become accustomed to your teaching style. I address issue to build communication/relationship; not to demean anyone.

As far as the two situations, M------ admitted to the fact that he started the whole incident between he and N-----. N----- was merely repeating what he said. M------ apologized to N-----, and they worked it out.

R----- did admit to saying profanity and she apologize to A------ for saying that to her. She also wrote a letter of apology to me for being disruptive in class. She remained with Mr. H---- for the remaining of the period.

Hopefully this experience will allow an opportunity for us to collaborate and figure out ways to resolve issues, which are similar, regardless of whether both of us are in the room or not.

Have a good day,

A-----


*fuming, even as I am reading this again*

Ok, and my most current response:

A--,

I do not think mediation is necessary. I do, however, think it is important that are methods of resolution are similar. I do not think it is ever appropriate to have students out of the hall without being supervised.I usually send them to Mr. H----, our student advisor, or remove them from the group. We can discuss if this is okay with you, but is important that we are on the same page.

Since you do not think it is "ever appropriate" to have students in the hall without being supervised, then I don't think we will come to an agreement on that. However, when there are two of us in the room, then there is never a need to have a student alone in the hallway, is there? I made a decision as the only teacher in the room at the time. I am not complaining about that, I am just stating it as a fact that pertains to my issue.

When I am the only teacher, and someone needs to be removed, I either send them to the office, or send them to the hall to wait for me to conference with them. They were not sent to the hall indefinitely. I sent them there to wait for me, so I could talk with them privately, and to send the message to the students that a person may not remain in the room if they are behaving badly. That is how I usually do things, when I am the only teacher in the room, making the decisions. I did not have the chance to handle that situation today, because you took over.

That is my issue here: that you took over the situation when I was teaching. I had made a decision, and you swooped in and usurped it. That sends the message to the children that they don't have to follow my directions.


I also think it would be good for you to have more opportunities for instruction, so the students will become accustomed to your teaching style.

Many of these students experience my teaching style during other classes. Others know my teaching style because I am the teacher during period 3, when you have a sub. They know how I work, because they have had that experience several times. Each time, they behaved differently, but each time I handled it.


I address issue to build communication/relationship; not to demean anyone.

I felt demeaned when you addressed this issue in front of the children,and in the middle of instruction.

As far as the two situations, M------ admitted to the fact that he started the whole incident between he and N-----. N----- was merely repeating what he said. M------apologized to N-----, and they worked it out.

R----- did admit to saying profanity and she apologize to A------ for saying that to her. She also wrote a letter of apology to me for being disruptive in class. She remained with Mr. H---- for the remaining of the period.

I would have found out what actually happened, had I been allowed to handle the situation myself. As it stands, I did not have the chance. Can you imagine my frustration, when a student who had just said the "f" word was led back into class, and you then told me that she "needed to be there?" What was I supposed to do? Question your authority in front of the students? I will not do that, to any teacher.


Hopefully this experience will allow an opportunity for us to collaborate and figure out ways to resolve issues, which are similar, regardless of whether both of us are in the room or not.


I suspect that we do not see the situation the same way, since your email did not address my issues, which I thought were very clear. Perhaps not. I'll be more explicit:

I feel incredibly insulted by the entire experience, because my authority as the teacher was usurped in the middle of instruction, and I was belittled in front of the children. That is my issue.




Now, as far as resolving issues when both of us are in the room, I can answer that one for you: I am there to serve my students with special needs. When problems arise, I'm happy to help with them. When shared reading time comes, I'm happy to read. I am also happy to simply assist the students with special needs, and remain otherwise silent, if you would prefer.

Right now, I cannot get over my anger at being belittled in front of children. Since you did not apologize for it before, I presume you don't think you did anything wrong. The fact remains that I feel insulted, no matter how you perceived the situation.

E---- has informed me that he would like to observe me during period 3 on Monday. I don't have time today to have a face-to-face conversation with you, because my schedule is tight, as usual. At this point, I guess I'll just have to roll with whatever comes my way on Monday. I feel this is still unresolved.


And THAT is why I couldn't write about it last week. Now, I did have my observation today, after talking with E----, the principal. You won't believe what happened: During the lesson that we had agreed I would teach, she interrupts, saying, "I've been trying to remain silent, but..." and then proceeds to teach for the next 5 minutes. The content she was teaching was what I was just going to say, to boot. After the class, in the hallway, the principal said to me," That was nice of her, to interject and then teach for 5 minutes, wasn't it?" being sarcastic. I am so glad he was there to see it.

*sigh* *rolls eyes*

Do you people now see why I have to get out of here?








--groovygrrl, queen of cranky emails