*LeSigh*

I am quite devastated that the Parkway Theater is closing. Like, really, really sad. Under very sudden, mysterious circumstances. I went there tonight and harshed the mellows of the folks behind me who were wondering why the heck the lines were so extreme and wow this movie must be the bomb. "Er, the movie has nothing to do with it..." Said movie (The Wrestler) sold out while we were still in line. I'll try again tomorrow for a matinee.

I am almost (but not quite) as equally disturbed by the fact that my third graders were quite surprised when informed that the Mayflower Pilgrims couldn't simply pop into Walmart to pick up supplies. They also didn't realize that electricity wasn't in widespread use in the 1600's. One of them astutely noted that Ben Franklin hadn't "invented" it yet.

Where are the question and answer books? The Little House series? What else are they teaching every year when they make paper turkeys?

We are all doomed.

So Far, So Good

California is experiencing a pretty severe water shortage.

Obama gets sworn in, and 24 hours later it's raining.

He's also initiated a salary freeze for top government officials.

I like this guy already.

Happy Inauguration Day!

I was getting sort of giddy this morning and was a tad anxious for the speeches and all, when I looked at my lesson plan and saw a bunch of stuff about Language Arts and Spelling. Thanks to the internet, I knew I'd be watching the Inauguration later, at my leisure. Who needs actual history when you've got RealPlayer?

Our curriculum did include a book about what it takes to become president. During the discussion that followed, a second grade girl raised her hand and said, "My dad says Barack Obama is going to raise taxes."

All I could think was, "Your dad must be doing aok."

Several repetitions later, I had a pretty clear idea of who her dad had voted for. I threw something in about how taxes are necessary, and where, exactly, they come from is another matter, and that's when I think she said it again, "...by one hundred dollars!"

A few months ago, a little boy asked me if McCain, regarded as the epitome of all that is evil by first graders 'round these parts, was involved in the sale of cigarettes, while his classmate informed me that she personally had voted for Obama. As a hippie liberal and former tobacco educator, the cigarette comment has made it into my Top Ten Wacky Classroom Experiences list.

I can say without hesitation that the vast majority of the parents in this town are Democrats.

Speaking of all things that are hippie liberal, I came across this cool thing on the NY Times website, outlining the most frequent words used in past inaugural addresses.

Startitis

I have startitis.  It's okay - I don't need a pill or to drink lots of soup or anything like that.

I just started a pair of fingerless gloves that have been commissioned.  Payment has already been rendered - a couple of extra balls of yarn and some needles, and the fact that the commissioner is super-excited.

I am also planning on starting a Clapotis for mom, out of yarn that's in the middle of going exactly nowhere.  I really should finish the scarf I'm working on for dad before starting this, but the more the merrier, right?

Never mind the fact that I am firmly in the middle of several, nay, multiple projects ("several" is putting it too lightly), and I just sent a message to a woman who is looking to get rid of a bunch of bright-red cotton/linen yarn, because this yarn wants to be a bright-red bathroom curtain.

If only there was such a thing as finishitis!

Girls Will Be Girls

Girl A and Girl B are having "issues". Girls A and B are in fourth grade.

This can't possibly end well.

Girl A is sniffling over something Girl B has said, and says her feelings are really hurt. I, a girl myself and having recently read an entire book about how girls are mean to each other, get down at her eye-level and thoughtfully explain how boys just duke it out when they have an issue, and then it's over. Girls...well, girls get mean when they're mad, but that can hurt even more than getting hit, can't it?

She tearfully agrees.

A little while later, Girl C reports that Girl B has said something mean about Girl A. Before I can finish saying, "Girl B..." in an exasperated tone, Girl B reports that Girl A tried to slug her.

Perhaps this needs to be revisited tomorrow.

Sometimes, it's All About the Little Things

I just put the recycling bag under the kitchen sink, meaning it is no longer sitting next to the refrigerator.

This is going to change everything.

"You Are the Most Awesome Sub Ever!"

This will be my downfall.

Science is Cool

As someone who used to make a living (I used to complain but it sure seems like I had a hefty salary from my vantage over here) trying to make science concepts understandable to novice audiences, I appreciated this Slate article, challenging journalists to just say it like it is, rather than burying already potentially off-putting subject matter in unnecessarily reverential, flowery prose.

I am reminded of the "Venus Explains the Atom" segment on WKRP.  This Emmy-award winning episode was directed by the dad of a good friend of mine.

These days, I slip in science whenever I can, which isn't very often in the age of No Child Left Behind.  If we're not reading, we're doing math.  If we're not doing math, we're reading.  

Sometimes we even read about math!

Math Manipulatives Make the World Go 'Round

Need I say more?  When I rule the world, not only will there be hooks under every restaurant table, but there will be fake money, fraction bars and circles, base ten blocks, and flippy counting pieces in every classroom, regardless of the subject.

Yes, I am substitute teaching again (*waves to the US economy*).

Really, it's all about fraction bars.

Slack-O-Rama

While in college, I ran with a crowd who was rather obsessed with the satirical "religion" called The Church of the Subgenius.  I don't even want to link to it, as it predates The Dawn of Al Gore's Internet, and the whole thing is, well, sophomoric, like something to do in college. Anyway.  A core principle of its belief system revolves around the concept of "slack".  That is, free stuff.

Well, slack has been raining down like manna from heaven for the past 24 hours, with no sign of stopping.  

• A Burning Man ticket fell into my lap.  After much consternation, I am going to go.  Once a decade, whether I need it or not!  
  
• A ride with a dear friend materialized, saving me from needing to ride with a chakra-yogic stranger.
  
• A 32" TV was just offered to me for free.  No more DVDs on the computer screen!  It's old-school, but who cares?
  
• I have access to a PARKING SPACE in SF tomorrow if I need it for a thing I need to go do; this is invaluable.
  
• And the most recent bit of slack that came my way was a receipt with the cafe wireless code on it, which I am of course going to leave here for the next person who happens along.
  

Unfortunately, slack can only be achieved when one does nothing for it, so it cannot extend to my job interview tomorrow.  But I am taking all of this slack as a sign that things are good in the world, and will use this attitude go in there tomorrow and assume the best!

In or Out?

Yesterday, my mailbox fell apart.  

I put the key into the lock, where it promptly got stuck.  Really stuck.  This key wasn't disengaging, not on my watch.  So I started unscrewing the mechanism from the inside, at which point I became intimately familiar with how much I do not know about locks.  I soon found myself on the dusty porch, chasing tiny little metal cylinders (are those the tumblers?), trying to place them back into the lock (now freed of the key).  I learned that you can't just put any length cylinder wherever it fits.  I made my best guess and now the lock sort of works.

Something similar happened to me last year, when the house lock got stuck, fortunately in the "open" position with the door open (as opposed to not being able to open the door at all).  There weren't any little cylinders falling all over the place that time, though, just a door that I couldn't close.

I'm sure there's a tarot card or astrological sign or rune or something that's trying to tell me to stay in or out of this or that place, or maybe it's trying to tell me that I need to take a locksmithing course.

The San Francisco Mime Troupe is Back in Action!

Go see!  

The Story is Late, But it's Still Worth Telling

It's been a couple of months now, but this is the story of two days in one third-grade classroom.

I got to know the kids pretty well during these two days.  Their regular teacher apparently ran  a very tight ship.  I let them get away with a few things, but let them know that they were only getting away with things because it was okay with me.

One kid was a natural leader.  Smart, personable, always ready with an answer.  I noticed him speaking with his stock broker on the way to recess on a cell phone.  One made out of paper.  "Yeah, yeah," he said.  "Sell high?" I asked?  "Yep," he'd reply.

He had fun with his phone each recess, but after lunch I noticed what must have been the result of a promotional deal in the lunchroom - everyone seemed to have a phone!  We were going to do an afternoon activity, and I explained that, because we were in class, they were going to need to power their (paper) phones down.

They had a variety of excuses about why this was simply unacceptable:

"But I'm expecting an important call!"

"But can't I keep it on vibrate?"

"How about if I just text?"

"Can I just use it to take pictures?"

No, no, a thousand times no...we're in class, and you need to power down your phones...and the same goes for LAPTOPS (this was directed to a girl who at this point was furiously typing away on a sheet of folded paper, who upon hearing this news slammed it shut, clamshell-style).

It was all pretty funny.  Keep in mind, their regular teacher would've had these things in the recycle bin before anyone had speed-dialed their bookie, and they knew it.

Below is the phone the ringleader made for me - he made sure to check and see if he had included a texting function:

I said "thank you", and modeled powering it down, shutting it, and putting it away until after class.

This class, having a tight daily ship, knew the rules.  Oh how they knew the rules.  And they were not shy about enforcing the rules with each other.  In short, they were tattlers like no tattlers I had ever met.  After about one hour of this, I remembered a trick I'd read on a sub message board: The Tattle Box.  I emptied a small box I found on a shelf, and told the kids (upon their return from recess, all with fresh tattles to report), "It's very clear that you all know the rules, and you're very good at reminding each other of the rules.  Here's what I'd like you to do, and please use your judgement...if someone is bleeding or otherwise doing something dangerous, I want you to come tell me.  In all other cases, I'd like you to write down your concern and put it into this box."

The box was overflowing in a span of 45 minutes:

It turns out they were very concerned that I read the notes, but beyond that, they were just happy they'd been heard. 

I cannot recommend this technique enough.  I imagine there are some offices where this approach to management might come in handy.

Is This Thing On?

I can only imagine what I'd look like if I wasn't attempting to get my money's worth out of my gym membership.

Sheesh.

Simplify, Simplify, Simplify

Just as my substitute teacher dance card was filling every day, the clock struck midnight and the ball ended.  I am now once again an unemployed pumpkin.  This is actually sort of good, as I was getting a little too comfortable in a unsustainable position.

In an attempt to not reinvent the wheel every time I write a cover letter, I crib as much as I can from past cover letters.  This is a great idea, except while looking at past cover letters and their overabundance of 25-cent words, well, it's no wonder nobody has hired me and my big mouth yet.  I'm not intentionally using 25-cent words...they just sort of come out when they happen to be the best words to express idea x, y, or z.

We'll have no more of that!  No more proper idea expression!  Humph!

Reason Number 869

Remember when friends are receiving holiday bonuses that you receive your bonuses from much greater things.  The bonus includes students saying thank you, telling you that you are the best teacher, little notes and formal letters, and general job satisfaction.

--1000 Best New Teacher Survival Secrets

That's sure poetic and all, but as they say, it sure doesn't pay the rent.  But today I was struck by some of the truth in that (setting aside for a moment record gas and food prices, CA rent that's far too high, and no benefits) as I shuffled from one odd situation to another.

This is the final week of school.  I miraculously have four assignments, but they're all a little weird at this point in the game.  This morning, I was working at one site for a half day, supposedly filling in while teachers met with some incoming parents for next year.  Only one of the parents showed, leaving me doing a lot of sitting around in the faculty lounge.  At one point, the office manager asked if I'd mind doing some work for her.  Presented with a pile of papers to be folded and subsequently stuffed into envelopes, I lasted about ten seconds before feeling grateful that I have not been serving time in a different high-rise every day.  Yes, as frustrating as this job is, as low as I feel on the totem pole, as poorly as I am paid, I would rather be wrestling with the constant needs of kindergartners (who, by the way, imprint in about one minute), than stuffing envelopes.  

Way to go, perspective!

This afternoon, I was at a second site, and the plan called for some science.  Out of a textbook?!?  I asked if the teacher had any balloons for a chapter on electricity, and spent my lunch hour coming up with static experiments.  I was in The Zone, similar to the one I was in during my stint as a high school Improv instructor.  Enter the students.  I'd had them before, and we were just getting to the good stuff when BEEP BEEP BEEP - there's the fire drill!  We got out to the playground, where the alarm proceeded to go on for...a half an hour.  Someone had pulled the alarm, and the lock on the control panel was apparently corroded shut.  Wheee!   While all this was going on, I gathered the kids around me and tried to explain, over the din, how opposite charges attract, and like charges repel, all to set up a quick experiment we hadn't yet been able to do...just in case there was time back in class.  Booo!  They got the alarm shut off just as schooltime was ending.  I invited kids to leave if they wanted to leave, and to stick around for a few minutes if they wanted to do a couple of experiments.

The five students that stuck around gave me one of the most rewarding experiences I've yet had in this position, and at this point, all of us were off the clock.  They were interested and they were curious and they were grateful.  All very unusual during the course of a regular school day.

Also off the clock, I stuck around town for an extra three hours, all so I could head to yet another school and attend a showing of Hansel and Gretel Eat Right, as produced by a wily group of first graders I've grown to know very well.  I arrived just as the lights were about to go down, so the kids spotted me and started shouting my name.

I've gotta say, that was pretty cool.  

As long as I have to be a temporary worker with crappy pay and no benefits, I'd much rather be in a position of leading a discussion pointing out the relative un-PC-itude of Schoolhouse Rock's "Elbow Room" (which I did last week) and get hugs from germy little kids than push paper somewhere.

"Ways to Deal With Bullies"

"...walk away."

"...tell an adult."

"...stand up for kids who are being bullied."

"...use humor, and try to make friends."

Wait, what?

Try to make friends?  Who writes these motivational school posters, anyway?

Goody Two Shoes

This morning I was recruited to be the advisor-for-the-day of a lunchtime dance club (i.e. they need grown-up supervision to be in the dance studio).  The school office manager (we were in the same class) hands me the key and the conversation goes something like this:

"So this is in the basement of the other building, down in the old rifle range."

"Er, I'm afraid I never knew where the RIFLE RANGE was."

"You know, right by where they held detention."

"Uhh..."

I kind of sort of never had detention.  Kept my mouth shut about it, though, as I am still desirous of being "cool" when I go back to high school.

Silly Rules and Regulations

So I was back at the ole high school today, covering for a science class.  High school teachers assume subs know nothing of X subject matter, so they often leave videos.

I had lunch in the English Department lounge, as I'd spent many a lunchtime there as a precocious teacher's pet.  The English teachers were all very nice, some recognizing me, and etc.  Mr. C (who was at the time, and remains now, a looker) was talking about how he was going to show his class "Into the Wild", as they're reading the book.  "And I'll have to get permission slips," due to a couple of far-away partial nude shots.

Permission slips? I started describing the videos I was showing today:

The Great Barrier Reef: Nowhere have I heard the word "sperm" mentioned with such frequency.  Nowhere.  (Coolest thing I learned from the video - synchronous spawning.)

Inside the Living Body: You'd have thought this was health class.  In what was actually a very cool video about the human organism, we had: birth, repeated extreme-closeup breastfeeding, cameras shoved inside just about everywhere a camera could be shoved, computer models of reproductive organs, actual footage of said reproductive organs (from the inside), discussions of body hair (complete with CGI), sexual desire, dopamine, oxytocin ... and the kids loved footage of food plopping around as it made its way through various stages of the digestive process. (I kept saying, "This is what's happening to your lunch RIGHT NOW!")

I scoff at your permission slip! 

Leetle Tiny Things Make All the Difference

So I gathered a mother lode of Bed & Bath coupons (as I am wont to do) and got me a Bodum Coffee Press.  The classic one.  The one everyone has.  The one that's painfully bereft of any volumetric measurements...

...until now.

I was very pleased to discover that the newest model does indeed have measurements.  Though they are only for "cups" rather than the "ounces" referred to in the instruction manual, I'm still happy there's finally something there.

Just for fun, here's a CoffeeGeek Manual on how to prepare perfect french press coffee.