WAG #6: Overheard

She's back! (Don't get too excited... don't know how long it'll last.)

This weeks assignment: Another people-watching exercise this week! This time, let’s listen! Choose a stranger and do your best to overhear what they say, and then write it down. It can be on the phone, to someone else, or even them talking to themselves. What does their voice, word choice, or tone tell you about them? Feel free to write their exact words OR write it as you would for fictional dialogue. By now you guys know the rules aren’t what’s important, but the experience!

I'm kind of cheating. I hadn't read the assignment for this week (since I'd slacked off for two weeks, it was depressing to read others' stuff), but I overheard a good conversation this morning. After reading the assignment, I'm going to do my best from memory.

Today is parent conference day. Not for our students, but for our homeroom kids; we're discussing next year's schedule and blah-blah. Not the most fun way to spend your Saturday, but I'm getting paid. And, as you can see, there is a lot of free time.

The teacher next to me had a conference right after my first left. I was catching up on Twitter, but my ears perked up when I heard her say, "First, Student, I have a question for you. Why didn't you go to the office yesterday when I sent you?"

Wow. This was much more involved than I was planning on being with any of my students. (Honestly, half of them? I don't know their names.)

I didn't eavesdrop on the whole conversation, but the father's voice drifted from her table to mine several times. I liked the dad's voice -- it was firm, no-nonsense, tough.

"You call her Ms. Teacher, not 'her.' Her name is Ms. Teacher. She's not one of your friends, one of those girls you hang out with -- you don't talk about her that way. She's your teacher. You talk to her with respect."

I wish I could remember the other things he said. He laid down the law -- what the teacher says, goes. Period, end of story.

I liked hearing him talk to his son with respect, but a firm hand. The father was not going over the top, making grand, sweeping statements and announcing unreasonable expectations. This did not come across as a show for the benefit of the teacher -- the "I've neglected your discipline for years, but NOW we're going to make some serious changes, YOU HEAR ME?" chest-beating rant. He also wasn't boasting abuse: "Ms. Teacher is going to email me every week and let me know if you're behaving or not. And if you are not behaving, if she says you do one thing wrong in class, if you forget to say, 'Bless you' when she sneezes, you know what's going to happen, don't you? Yeah, you know. You're not going to be able to sit down for a week. Don't worry, Ms. Teacher, I'll make sure this never happens again."

He wasn't like that. I believed this dad. This wasn't a show, this was parenting.

But he still made me think of all the other times I've sat through a parent chewing his kid out just for my (the teacher's) benefit. The times when the parent has let me know that things are going to change, because he's going to beat the kid if he misbehaves again. And how much the parent values education, and how hard teachers work, and how teachers need to be respected... and then nothing changes. The kid acts the same way, gets the same grades, and the parent never follows up. Because the parent said all those things to look good, but he takes the kid's side at home. And, directly, indirectly, consciously, unconsciously, the parent teaches the kid that teachers do not need to be respected. That they are inconsequential. If the teacher doesn't do what we say, we just go over her head.

I don't know if you can tell, but I had a very unpleasant conversation with a very unpleasant mother before I wrote that paragraph. So the post I originally sat down to write, about the parent at the table next to me, kind of went away after the mother at my table had her say. This was several hours ago, and it's still with me. Every other conversation I have had today with a parent has been pleasant. The mother waiting to speak to me while the other woman chewed me out was very sweet to me. But none of those exchanges are going to stay with me; the unpleasant mother, and her unpleasant child, are what are going to stay with me.

I have an hour and 45 minutes before I can go home.

I hope I don't have any horrid typos in this post, because I'm not in the mood to reread (because I'll edit too much). So, there is it. Nekkid.

Condoms on Campus

This blog post: In trouble for distributing Condoms? | Amplify got me thinking... what if I put condoms in the bathrooms on my campus*?

It probably would not be hard to find the culprit. I may be able to recruit some of the other faculty to help me with this social experiment, but that just means there would be more of us sitting in the principal's hot seat. What exactly would happen?

Would the administration acknowledge reality and look the other way? Or would they be too worried about their own arses, and throw mine to the wolves?

Would the students take them? And use them for their intended purpose, or would we suddenly see a slew of "water-balloon" fights breaking out in the halls?

Would the students heed the Pope's dim-witted words and just leave the sinful condoms there? (Mind you, they leave the sinful condoms... but carry on enthusiastically with the sinful sex and baby-making!)

What do you think, blogosphere? Should I do it?


*For those of you who don't know, a public high school in Texas with a high teen-pregnancy rate. Yes, I said public school. Yes, I said high school. Yes, I said Texas. No, I did not say death wish -- why do you ask?

Science, schmience!

Don't penalize Texas students for any belief about science, bill says | Top Stories | Star-Telegram.com

Really, Texas legislature? Really?

Please, fight your ideological battles outside the classroom.

What's next, 2+2 can equal whatever you want? After all, if one loaf of bread and two fish can feed multitudes, then what does that say about math?

Can you hear the rest of the country laughing at us? Because I can.

If you live in Texas, please call your legislators and ask them to oppose HB 4224, authored by Rep. Wayne Christian, R-Center. Please.

Ice? ICE, baby!

"... and the rains came down, and covered the lands, and froze. And the district declared an ice day. And there was much rejoicing in the lands, and it was good."

Last night, Freddy and I diligently read the school closings and delays listed across the bottom of channel 8's screen. The two districts where we live had already decided to close for today, but the district where I work, 30 minutes away and notorious for refusing to cave in to silly things like snow days, had not said anything yet. Freddy, who'd been out earlier last night because of an audition, declared I was not going anywhere today, no matter what the district did -- I was going to call them and tell them I was taking the day off anyway because it was not safe to drive. While I agreed with him (I do have several bridges and overpasses on my way to work), I wasn't too keen on the idea of making sub lesson plans over the phone (especially since I'm going to be out Friday already, so I'll need sub lesson plans [read: pointless busywork] two days from now).

We checked the district website, which stated the decision on bad weather would be made by 6:00 am.

This morning, the alarm rang at 5:45 am. In my sleep stupor, I was coherent enough to realize I had not gotten The Call yet, which meant school was NOT closed. Crapfest. Freddy was not going to let me go to work. Who did I need to call? When would someone be at the school for me to call? What crappy lesson plans was I going to give the kids? (Draw the vocab is a popular one. What else are you going to do with a level 1 class?)

Then, at 5:47 am, my cell phone rang -- a call ring, not the alarm ring. It made me happy.

I went back to sleep with a fat cat on my back and a kitten on my side.

Until 6:32 am, when the automated phone system called me to let me know the district's schools were closed.

I forgave the automated phone system, and went back to sleep.

So how to spend this glorious free day?

• Playing with FrontPage and my website
• Polishing disseration
• Reading/editing LIFE CHOICES
• Creating budget for the month and fool-proof ways to stick to it

Tonight, I'm going to see One in Three. I thought it only ran last weekend and I'd missed it, but it actually got extended through next week. Awesome!

The Plan

So the "Does Criss need a new job?" question has been answered with an emphatic, "Yes, I do believe so." It is now time to put A Plan into action.

I should be a pretty marketable individual. But all my job experience is in education, which apparently is synonymous with "Jack Squat" in the non-education world. Funny. In a very non-funny way. But I won't jump on that soapbox today.

The Plan is to start applying to jobs now. This means I'm not really giving this semester much of a chance, but that's okay with me. I'm still going to put effort into my job, I promise. I just know I won't be going back to it, because too many aspects of it irritate the living bejeezus out of me.

Since I am notorious for having absolutely NO self-discipline, and because the Internetz has been known to suck entire days from my life, I must formulate a detailed Plan to keep my butt in gear. And to keep my sanity from imploding.

The Schedule:

• Leave school by 5:00 every day. Screw it if I still have other carp to do; at 5:00 I'm out.
• Limit weekday Internetz time at home to 6:00-8:00. The first hour can be fun stuff, like email and blogs and Facebook (when we're on speaking terms), but the second hour has to be work: applying for jobs, updating resume, fixing dissertation, editing novels.
• Get off the computer at 8:00 and join the World of the Living. (Namely Freddy.)
• Be in bed by 10:30, so I can at least have enough sleep to face the soul-suckingness of the day job.
  

If anyone out there is looking for a passionate, motivated, hard-working bilingual (almost trilingual) employee, please let me know. I have references.

Freddy sent me this, from an editorial in the Ft. Worth Star-Telegram. (I tried to post it yesterday, but the Internets was broken. It made me angry.)

I am neither Democrat nor Republican. I am an educator. I am an American.

I should remember today as a significant day in American history.

Jan. 20, 2009: My son turned 14 today. It was a happy day.

I remember a day in 1963 — Nov. 22. I was in a classroom learning with other children. We were first graders. JFK was assassinated that day. I remember the principal, Mr. Jones, saying that word over the PA system — assassinated. We did not know its meaning, but we knew from watching the adults that it made everyone sad. We went home early, but it was not a happy day. It was a significant day in American history. I was in a classroom with other children.

I remember that day.

I remember a day in 1986 — Jan. 28. I was a teacher and was in my classroom teaching children. The Challenger fell from the sky on that day. I remember the principal, Mr. Walker, telling us over the PA about it. I had to leave my room so my kids would not see me fighting back tears. I was a coach and coaches didn't cry.

I had wanted badly to be in Krista McAuliffe's shoes, to be the first teacher in space. I was a science teacher and I was jealous. Now she and the others were gone. It was not a happy day. It was a significant day in American history. I was in a classroom with children.

I remember that day.

I remember a day in 2001 — Sept. 11. I was an Assistant Principal. I went to a classroom to watch a TV with children. There was no TV in the office. I had been in a meeting that was interrupted with the news that something significant was happening, so I went. I needed to be in a classroom with children.

Together, we watched the second twin tower fall. I remember asking the kids if we were watching a repeat of what had happened earlier when the first tower fell (I had heard) and they told me, no, this is the second tower and we were watching it live as it fell. We were silent. Again, I had to fight back tears. It was not a happy day. It was a significant day in American history. I was in a classroom with children.

I remember that day.

I will remember Jan. 20, 2009.

It was a happy day. Somehow, I found myself having to fight back tears. Our country elected the first black president in our history, and he took the oath of office with more than a million people watching on the Washington Mall. It was a significant day in American history. I will remember what that many people in Washington, D.C., looked like. I will remember the music by Yoyo Ma and Itzhak Perlman. I will be there with our BHS band in March.

I will remember how Chief Justice John Roberts messed up his lines. If I were in front of that many people, I might do the same. A President named Barack. I guess if I can be Priddy, he can be Barack. I will remember how toward the end of his address, he referenced a moment in history when George Washington inspired the troops at the very gravest time during the American Revolution and how he made the connection to the present.

I believe he has great social awareness. I hope he succeeds. Hope is a word I've heard a lot recently and I like that word. I believe it is a good word and should be used more by educators.

Jan. 20 was a significant day in American history. I will remember this day. I was in a classroom with children. I was a principal. I did not make a speech over the PA like Mr. Jones or Mr. Walker.

I sent an e-mail.

I am an American. I am an educator.

May God bless teachers.

— David Priddy, principal, Burleson High School, Burleson

Mid-Life Crisis... at the tender age of 31

I have a lot of anger. And resentment. And anger.

I don't know exactly where it's all coming from, but it mostly gets taken out on my students.

A big chunk of the anger comes from them -- from the apathy running rampant through them. It kills me. I can't deal with it. I wish I could absorb it, at least a teeny, tiny part of it, so I could let so much of this slide off my back. Or over my head. Whichev.

The problem is I have a hard time understanding apathy. I care too much, that's usually been my problem. And when passion, enthusiasm, and energy meet with apathy... well, they get buried deep in the festering tar pit of apathy and eventually emerge, bubbling to the top, as boiling, bitter bile.

And anger and resentment.

There's anger and resentment about other things, too. Things that are over, but that doesn't mean that *poof* the resentment is gone.

Bush is gone. That's good. But he was bad. He did bad things. And stupid things. And, the worst part, is We The People let him do them.

Yes, we need to get over the past, because, as Mufasa says, "It doesn't mattah, it's in the past!" However, we can't just go, "Okeley-dokeley!" and walk away. We need to fix his screw-ups, and we need to remember what happened so we don't do it again. And we need to find a way to bring our schools back to passing, which at this point -- and no, this is not all Bush's and NCLB's fault, the system was ailing before they came along -- will require a complete overhaul. An education revolution.

Maybe tomorrow I'll wear my beret. And grow a beard. (Oh, wait -- I can't do that. What about growing my leg hair? Is that revolutionary enough? People probably won't want to depict that on t-shirts, though... and I can't say I blame them.)

...

This was supposed to be a cathartic blog post. It was supposed to bring me some sort of epiphany to help me get rid of the anger, so I could have a good day tomorrow. Instead, it turned into mumbled rambling... if I were not sick with The Sickness of Death, I might have been able to think more clearly and pull off this blog post.

I need a lead box. Where I can put the Apathy, so it will not affect me.

I need to let go of the anger and embrace the togetherness. The aisle-crossing. I need to be as big as the moment we lived today, the new era we are living. (I'm not feeling overly confident about my abilities.)

Or maybe I need some medication. Which is probably not a bad idea, but that takes time and money. Also, I deeply resent having to get on medication merely to deal with my job. There is something wrong with a profession that drives so many of its members to anti-depressants.

At least I know one thing: with a mid-life crisis at 31, I'm dying at 62. I don't have to stress out about having enough retirement funds.

Weekend Update

This was a highly unproductive weekend.

I didn't make a concrete lists of to-dos, but I had general ideas:

• take the car in for an oil change
• type the last pages of edits on the bloody dissertation
• catch up on blogs I've meant to write, both here and on another blog
• create the semester exam for my level 3 classes

Things I actually accomplished:

• this blog post

Okay, fine, that's not entirely true: Freddy and I have done some cleaning up around the house, and I finally posted on Freecycle items we'd been meaning to give away or get rid of. (Turns out, lots of people want wetsuits and red velvety curtains.) We also took the two bags of trash bags full of clothes down to Goodwill, along with other stuff that needed to go. And we cleared out some more tubs of stuff out to the shed. And I am writing to you lovely people sitting at a proper desk, not couch -- meaning the mountain of paper and debris that used to reside on this work surface has also been conquered.

So, some cleaning was accomplished. And little annoying things that have been needing to be done got done. Not a total loss of a weekend, all in all...

My problem is that I have a nasty habit of quitting while I'm ahead.

The first 18 pages of my dissertation? Written in one weekend. The last 5-10 pages? Took months.

Whenever I start working on something (laundry, cleaning the house), I start out strong and get a lot done quickly. And then I see that I'm doing well... so I give myself a break. And slow down. And never finish what I started.

Since I have no self-discipline, I can't make myself go back and finish. So I'll do three loads of laundry, but the last load remains in the dryer forever (if I've done four loads of laundry, the clothes stay in the washer... which means moldy clothes, which is nasty. And counter-productive, since I then have to wash the clothes again). And the socks never get matched up.

I'll do an awesome job of cleaning up the bathroom, but then never do anything about straightening up the bedroom.

And I'll stretch out three hours of work on my master's into a month and a half of dilly-dallying.

Meh.

Another productive blip on my weekend: yesterday was the first meeting for the writers group formed from interested Wrimos in the area. I took the first chapter of my 2004 NaNo; I had done some massive chopping before taking it to the group, so I was pretty pleased with myself to begin with, but their feedback and suggestions helped me figure out ways to make the chapter even better. So, I'm excited. Tomorrow I should sit down and get some more writing done (on the dissertation and the novel).

Or I might go on a laundry spree. You never know.

First day back at school = fail.

I fully planned to stay at school until 5:00 to finish putting together my semester exams and reviews. Because of the ice and freezing rain, I left at 4:00 (school's out at 3:45). I fully intended to do the work at home, but never got that far.

Nor did I finish typing in the edits to my dissertation. The dumb cat kept getting in my lap, which makes typing very hard. So I read my book instead.

Then I took a nap.

All in all, a pretty worthless evening. Hopefully I can manage to be more productive tomorrow.

PS: thank you to my readers! All... three of you. TRIPLED IN SIZE WITH ONE POST! :P

Divine intervention via Twitter?

The past month or so, I've been seriously reconsidering my career choice. You know, that same career I decided to leave for good a year and a half ago... but then came back to six months later. I've been back for almost a year, and I'm doubting again whether I belong here.

I'm a pretty angry, negative person to begin with. And there are quite a few major problems with the public education system, so there is plenty to be angry and negative about.

Today I was having a particularly end-of-my-rope day, and thinking I was done for good with this (however, given the nature of my day job, I can't put in my two weeks' notice until two weeks before the school year's out). My mood lifted slightly in the last hour or so, then I read this post by Janet Reid, about the publishing industry and its naysayers, and the last two paragraphs struck me:

If you've worked for ten years in an industry you don't value or respect, with people you find distasteful, that says more about you than it does about the industry.

So take a piece of advice from me: quit your job. Leave the work to those of us who love this damn industry more than we should, despite its myriad flaws, against all odds and really for no good reason.

Shut up and get out.

I'm a couple of years shy of ten, but everything else fits. Is God trying to send me a message? (If so, he's pretty nifty - I clicked on her blog post link on Twitter.)

I have a bit of sorting out to do. And I have plenty of time to do it in, since I can't change my job status until June. But I think I should keep these words in mind as I sort.

"Hello! And welcome to my pity party."

I've been playing by The Rules this year. I've been working hard to be good. I've stayed on top of it - as much as I've been able to.

Even during NaNo, I made sure to put in my time for school stuff before going off to write-ins or doing NaNo-related stuff.

And it's still not working.

I like teaching. I discovered that the first time I quit it. It's all the other crap I can't handle.

I wish I could do my job part-time: that would give me enough time to get my job done well in a regular, 8-hour work day. If I could teach four, maybe five classes a day, all the same subject/level, I would have time to do everything that is expected of me without ignoring certain aspects or cutting corners or giving up my life.

Because that's the part that's killing me. I like teaching, but I like my life. I have other stuff going on. I refuse to give up my self in order to feel successful at my job. It's a day job, really. And it's not the only thing I have, or want, in my life.

Right now, doing this well and having a life outside the school are mutually exclusive. And that's not going to work for me.

Today, I had a half-give up day. This afternoon, I've spent a lot of it wasting time. I have not done this so far this year. I do not check my home email or browse my Google Reader subscriptions until I get home. Today? Nah.

Now, part of the reason for popping on over to the home email inbox was because we were discussing crucial matters (the who, what, when, where of Christmas - when you're family is as big and complicated as mine, this is a serious issue that demands time and your full attention. Trust me). But, before today - before last Friday, when the penny dropped - even that kind of discussion would have waited until later.

I had a conversation Friday that made me realize this job is stressing me out. And it's stressing me out more than normal, because this time I'm doing everything the way I am supposed to be doing it. Before, when I was behind on grading and overwhelmed by the endless to-do list and harrassed by parents, I knew part of it was my fault. I wasted my time instead of focusing on grading stuff early. I didn't plan out my lessons ahead of time. I didn't do X and Y and Z the way I should.

But now I'm doing all those things, and getting the same results. Actually, getting worse results than people who do a much crappier job than I do. So how the heck does that work out?

So, here's me. Here's the towel.

Here's me, contemplating throwing it.

Do I suck at my job?
Am I too angry and inflexible to be in this kind of job?
Is this just the December blues, and everybody's feeling it?
Do I need to get back on medication?
Or start doing yoga again?
Cut out sodas and other sugars?
Or maybe I should go the other direction, and start drinking heavily?

We'll think about it.

Change in POV

Twitter emailed me today, letting me know Heart_song was following me. So I followed back. And I found these two blog posts of hers, which I feel need to be shared:

Stop the Perfecution!
I don't want to be a groan up anymore!

I think I've slowly gotten over my perfectionism (I probably have NaNo to thank for that), but I could always use more help in letting it go. Now, the groan-up issue... this one is a bad weed. In early college, I think I was reading Don't Sweat the Small Stuff and read the chapter on negativity, where the guy suggested for every negative thought you have, you have to think of a positive one: if a guy cuts you off on the freeway and you call him a jerk, you have to think of three positive things to say about him. "He drives a fuel-efficient compact car, which is better for the environment;" "he might be late for work;" "his car is a pretty shade of blue." Yes, it can be hard to come up with three, but after a while your brain starts to think more positively (either that, or it learns to not think negatively, because then you have to pay for it with three nice things). I remember doing this and it working, but then I stopped... and went back to being my regular grumpy self.

The groan-up/grin-up thing is the same idea - replace your negative thought with a positive one. This is my challenge to myself. Lately, I've been griping about my job a lot. And it's easy to do, when other people gripe with you. But I like my job. I have fun there, most of the time. I like working with the kids, and I'm lucky that I do not teach a TAKS-tested subject, so admin leaves my department alone most of the time.

At times like this week, when grades are due, it can get hectic and stressful. Kids coming in Thursday afternoon or Friday morning, asking if there's anything they can do to bring their grade up... when the six weeks ends Friday at 3:45. Parents can see their kids' grades online, but not all of them know this or have signed up for it, so I need to call parents and let them know Johnny never turned in that big assignment. Do I have enough grades this six weeks? Do I have enough test grades? Did I call that parent to make sure she knows her daughter is failing because she sleeps in class or, when awake, plays Tetris on her computer? Why is it my resposibility to keep up with these things, when I have 179 students but the parents only have 2-4 kids each? Shouldn't it be the parents' responsibility to keep up with the kids' grades?

I get to work by 7:00 and usually don't leave until after 5:00, most of the time it's closer to 6:00. We do have meetings all the time (2-3 a week, most weeks). This cuts into grading/lesson planning time. There is not enough time in the day to do everything I want to do... Freddy and I had a more concrete (ie: we've set a tentative date) conversation about having kids; how's all that going to work, working this much (and still not getting it all done) and having a newborn? Will I be able to handle it? Will things get better next year, after I've taught a full year in this school, in this subject (I have a nasty habit of jumping grade levels or subjects every few years, which is starting over all over again)? Or am I just telling myself it will be easier?

It's easy to drown yourself in a glass of water... especially for me. I like drama. And personal pity parties. And I like to complain about injustices in the world, percieved or otherwise. The science department has to contact 2-3 parents a week, and TeleParent (and automated calling system with pre-recorded messages - student didn't turn in major project; sleeping in class; made an A on a test - doesn't count); the math department has to offer tutoring every day from 4-6 (don't know if they're getting paid extra; our contracts end at 4:00). My department doesn't have to do any of that, but I'll sit and whine about how unfair it is that they are required to do that - which is unfair, on top of everything else. And why doesn't TeleParent count as a way to contact parents about their kids' progress? The district is paying good money for it, we should use it! It's a great system/tool! Uh... but do I use it? It would be very easy to keep up with those parents (or cover my butt about keeping up with parents) if I used it, but I don't. Then, at the end of the six weeks, I complain that the parents should be checking up on grades, I shouldn't have to call each and every parent... when, really, all I have to do is click a few buttons on the computer. I focus on whining about things, instead of looking for solutions or focusing on the things that are going well.

And so we arrive at the end of my rambling. I should read over all this and check it for coherency, but I have to finish grading a few assignments for my level 3 classes, and I would like to hit 40K by tonight (probably won't happen; I'm at 34,356 at the moment). I'm still about a week ahead of schedule, but I want to keep my lead!!! (Have I mentioned how much I love my AlphaSmart? Because I love it lots.)

Where's an English teacher when you need one?!?

I know I wrote research papers in high school - didn't I?

But then again, that was back when the Internetz was something new and scary. It had games, and this wacky "e-mail" thing, but that was it. When you had to write research papers, you got your little butt down to the library and made friends with our good buddy Mr. Dewey, of Decimal System fame.

You grabbed your encyclopedias, a book or two - maybe even a magazine or newspaper if you were really cutting edge. (I was in all Honors classes, so yes, I used magazines, thankyouverymuch.) You looked at the notes your teacher gave you to cite an encyclopedia, a book, and a periodical, and you were set. Whoo-hoo!

I took one class in college where we had to write research papers (a grand total of three). Again, I used books. One citation format, and I was done. No, wait - I might have gotten online sources for the very last paper, because by the time I sat down to start it, the library was closed, and the all-night computer lab was my only recourse. Either way, that was still a nice, clean-cut "online source" citation. And it was a science class, so he wasn't that big on the mechanics of the paper.

Because I am that annoying G/T kid, all raw and cutting-edge, my dissertation is about a rock band. I already blew some people's minds when I asked how to cite a song from a CD (then again, that was at the local community college). I figured out how to adjust the "short story collection" citation format to fit "songs on a CD" - but what the heck do I do for YouTube videos of live performances of those songs??

Who's the author? The TV channel that aired the concert? The artist, who wrote the lyrics? The band, who composed the song (music and lyrics together, and performance)? The guy who took the TV footage and put it on YouTube? Does the guy who posted it on YouTube count as the "editor"? The "publisher"?

HELP!

"I'm late! I'm late! For a very important date - no time, no time!!"

I have a bazillion blog posts I need to write, but absolutely no time to even think about them. Grades are due tomorrow at 8:00 am and I am so far behind I want to cry.

Cliff Notes (not so much to keep you updated; more to remind me of what I want to write):

• I lost my flash drive, and no, I was not smart enough to save the latest copy of my dissertation on my laptop as backup.
• finally did the triathlon this weekend. Not so great. And it took up any and all free time this weekend (hence the obscene behindness on grading).
• the hypocrisy of miscarriages and abortion: "life" begins as soon as the egg is fertilized - but when a woman miscarries, do we offer proper consolation for the "death"? No, we simply treat it as an unfortunate medical condition. If we talk about it at all.
• NaNoWriMo is coming!!! (And yes, people on the forums are already starting to tick me off.)

Okay, break's over. Back to work.

Ask, and you shall receive

After writing the post this weekend looking for cold-drink travel mugs, the baseketball team at my school begins selling them on Tuesday. One of my students walks into my 2nd-period class holding a 32-oz. travel mug (for cold stuff, with a straw - okay, the straw was not included, but Sonic straws fit perfectly), shaped like large to-go cups ("tapered" at the bottom so it fits in car cup-holders), in the school's colors, all shrink-wrapped and ready to move. I was giddy.

I bought it off him right there and then, even though I think that might have been his sample mug, to show everyone else how nice they are, don't you want to buy one? And because I only had a $20 on me and he didn't have change, I bought a Dallas Cowboys one for Freddy. I'm slowly converting him to the Green Side. (Don't give me too much credit - it's not because I want to save the planet; I'm going to offer him my Script Frenzy hot-drink travel mug so I can buy this year's NaNoWriMo hot-drink travel mug.)

I even got to use the mug that very afternoon, when one of the science teachers went on a Sonic run and brought me back a cherry limeade. I didn't need to use the plastic mug, since the drink already came in a styrofoam cup (therefore defeating the green purpose), but the Sonic cup was sticky and a pretty blatant violation of the no-food-or-drink policy... at least with a HighSchool mug I'm breaking the rules while showing school spirit.