Why Papercuts Are A Very Real Job Hazard

I did the math.

I rather wish I hadn't. But what's done is done.

I added up the average of essays that I assign, taking the low side of page numbers per essay, added in a guesstimate of essays from tests, the pages of writing on projects as well as essays, and multiplied by the number of students I have per year (around 150--this year I have 148). I did NOT include the other kinds of grading I do, including objective quizzes and tests, "checked in" notes and vocabulary logs and graphic organizers and the like, and presentations.

According to my calculations, I grade a rough average of 16,000 pages worth of writing per year.

SIXTEEN THOUSAND PAGES.

PER YEAR.

On a not-unrelated note, the first marking period ends next Friday.

Any wonder why I'm not posting much lately?

And, uh, anyone want to come help me wade out of this paperlanche that seems to have fallen on me?

At Least I'm Not As Crazy As Basil Marceaux. Though That Leaves A Whole Lot Of Room For Crazy.

I'm tending towards silence here these days not only because my days are filled with packing or children or both, but also because my thoughts have been tumbling about from one point to another and don't seem to settle down into one coherent post. Well, except for when I'm driving, per usual, and then long and lovely and loquacious posts spin themselves out in my mind, only to be lost by the time I park.

(I do remember the tag line I'd composed for a potential post about Basil Marceaux, quite possibly the craziest political candidate I've ever seen. Well, at least the most obviously crazy. I had planned to write a snarky post starting with his shockingly bad TV spot, then his horrendous website, with an additional focus on page 4 where he includes his letters to the United Nation [sic] and the FBI, at which point my friend Heidi and MTL and I started debating whether he was schizophrenic or had suffered from closed head trauma. I was going to end the post with Oh Tennessee. Bless yer heart. Yer crazy is showin'.)

Here's the thing about change: it's stressful. Even when it's good change, and change that I love, and involves people I love, and I know that I will be and am very happy about it all. Nevertheless, it's change, and it's stress. I feel rather as though over the last two years my entire life has been turned inside out, shaken, scrubbed thoroughly, taken apart at the seams, and resewn into a new configuration. Which, really, is rather a good thing, but is nevertheless rather exhausting. So I find myself attempting to scrape up the energy to finish packing in these last two days before we move on Saturday. The attempt is rather weak.

I've done more cleaning, purging, tossing, donating, and packing of Stuff over the last month and a half than I think I've ever done, largely because I did it The Right Way. This means that rather than just tossing anything and everything in boxes with the vague idea of Sorting It Out Later, I've been going through things very thoroughly. Perhaps too thoroughly at times: I threw out some items that I probably should not have thrown out and had to deal with a very unhappy Ex at one point. I've made seven or eight (I've lost track) visits to donation centers with a car packed to the brim with giveaway items. I've tossed dozens of giant garbage bags of trash onto the curb. I've stripped away the useless and the broken and the unwanted and the forgotten.

And still there is so much left to move this weekend. I won't tell you how many bins of shoes are involved. Or boxes of books. We all know about my addictions.

I'll admit to some anxiety about my new paradigm. To jump from two small boys to five children ranging from three to fourteen is a bit of a shock to one's system. I mean, just imagine. I have to learn how to braid hair!!!

It's a good thing we all, in general, get along. There are bumps, of course, but it could be so very much worse. And MTL is so very worth it.

Nevertheless...it's all quite stressful. So last night I slept restlessly as I suffered the consequences of not doing my physical therapy exercises yesterday and as anxiety dreams flitted through my head. From what I recall, they mainly dealt with trying to move and discovering that everything had unpacked itself, or the trucks got lost somewhere in the handful of miles between one place and the next, or the children kept climbing into boxes trying to pack themselves, or I kept forgetting what I was supposed to take. Oh, and then there were the dreams triggered by work starting up in a month coupled with the need to get children registered and ready for school once we move.

Have I mentioned that I'm a worrier? Yeah.

One day at a time, right? The only problem is that there are only two days left...and still so very much to do.

So I better go work on that mountain of laundry and finish packing the dishes. If you have some extra energy, go ahead and send it my way, would you? Oh, and dark chocolate would be awfully welcome too. Especially with raspberry filling.

Excuses, Excuses

Student Version: Why I Didn't Do The Homework 
(from this site)

1. I didn’t do my history homework because I don’t believe in dwelling on the past.
2. I didn’t want the other kids in the class to look bad.
3. A sudden gust of wind blew my homework out of my hand and I never saw it again.
4. Another pupil fell in a lake and I jumped in to rescue him.  Unfortunately, my homework drowned.
5. Our furnace broke and we had to burn my homework to keep ourselves from freezing.
6. I’m not at liberty to say why.
7. I wanted to frame the detention letter you’re about to give me.
8. It was destroyed in a freak accident involving a hippo, a toaster, and a bag of frozen peas.  You don’t want to know the details.
9. I have a solar-powered calculator, and it was cloudy.
10. I made a paper plane out of it and it got hijacked.
11. My mom used it as a dryer sheet.
12. My agent won’t allow me to publish my homework until my movie deal is finalized.
13. It’s against my religion to do any homework.
14. I was abducted by green-skinned, three-eyed, pig-snouted space aliens, and they incinerated my homework with their death rays.
15. I felt it wasn’t challenging enough.
16. My parents were sick and unable to do my homework last night.  Don’t worry, they have been suitably punished.
17. We had homework?!
18. I see your lips moving, but all I’m hearing is “blah, blah, blah.”
19. I didn’t want to add to your already heavy workload.
20. I spent the night at a rally supporting higher pay for our hard-working teachers.

Teacher Version: Why I Didn't Grade The Homework
(by TeacherMommy)

1. A draft circulated through my room from the vents, and the friction caused by all those papers rubbing together resulted in spontaneous combustion isolated to my desk.
2. I had to go to the ER to treat the blood loss sustained from all my paper cuts.
3. I started reading the essays and suffered a brain aneurism.
4. I fell asleep on the papers due to exhaustion and got ink poisoning.
5. My children mistook the tests for scrap paper and used them for their latest art projects.
6. My cat mistook the tests for kitty litter and...well, littered on them.
7. The military has been taking up all my time having me train their best interrogators in the proper use of The Look. Soon they will be ready to add The Eyebrow.
8. I strained my back carrying my laptop and bag of papers and had to go to the chiropractor.
9. Oh, they're graded, but the computer hates me and won't let me enter the grades.
10. It was the craziest thing. I left my room for five minutes to use the copier, and a miniature wormhole opened up over my desk and transported all the papers to the Gamma Quadrant.
11. My nemesis in A pod papernapped all the essays. I'm negotiating for their release.
12. I'm trying to get my Procrastination Badge. I've been working on it for years, but the organization keeps putting off the final test.
13. I looked at the essays and decided I can't cure stupid.
14. Next week is Spirit Week and I'm too busy trying to decide what to wear on the theme days.
15. Did you know that Gmail chat suddenly works in the building?
16. I'm very busy practicing my blogging writing skills.
17. Since our salaries and benefits are likely to get slaughtered in the next contract negotiation, I've decided to start charging per paper. I'm waiting for my students to cough up the moolah.
18. I'm staging a protest against the needless slaughter of squids by refusing to use ink.
19. Sometimes it's just better not to know what is and isn't in those kids' heads.
20. I have a life.

Calculations

Hours remaining before final exams begin: 114.75

Hours remaining before (rough draft versions of, at least) final exams are due to the front office: 25.5

Number of exams to create: 7

Number of exams in partial existence: 7

Number of exams finalized in even rough draft form: 0

Number of days already spent half-heartedly "working" on exams: 8

Number of estimated hours needed to complete exams: enough to cause panic

Amount of intrinsic motivation I have to finish exams: 0

Number of anxiety dreams about final exams: 0

Number of anxiety dreams about all the other crap I'm dealing with these days: at least 5 that I can remember

I'm doomed.

I'll Keep You Posted (Ha Ha) On How This One Goes

There are many resolutions I could and should make for this year, this year of Clarke-ian significance, this Twenty-Ten. (Am I the only one relieved for a date that's easy to say, finally?!?) If I were to list all the resolutions that crossed my mind in the last few weeks, this is what you would see--though of course, this means I AM listing all the resolutions that crossed my mind in the last few weeks. Whatever.

The List I Could Write and Maybe Would If I Was More, You Know, Masochistic

1. Exercise for at least half an hour at least five times a week. And walking around while teaching can't count.
2. Eat healthier food cooked at home rather than resorting to fast food and boxed carbs so often. Tossing frozen peas in mac 'n' cheese is insufficient. Of course, it would help if there were even any frozen peas in the freezer to begin with.
3. Get papers graded no less than one week after they are turned in. Oh, and actually remember to return them to the students too.
4. Make more money and spend less.
5. Be neater. Okay, just be neat. Tidy, even.
6. Write wonderful, witty, inspiring posts on a regular basis. Perhaps win some blog awards.
7. Write a book. Or at least a good portion of one.
8. Stay caught up on reading blogs too. And commenting.
9. Get rid of the house. Please. Anyone want to buy a house? It's a nice house. I just don't want it. Oh, and if you would actually pay what we OWE rather than what that pesky housing market says it's WORTH, that would be so nice.
10. Win friends and influence people. Without having to read some stupid self-help book.

So some of these are actually within the realm of possibility, at least in part, especially if I have a little will power. Numbers 1, 2, and 3 are quite reasonable. Well, maybe not five times a week for number one. Three times? I could at least try.

And I've even gotten a decent start on some others. Number four, for example. I'm trimming excess spending already. I also am looking into picking up some tutoring hours--I advertised on Craigslist and I've already gotten a couple of bites. It would be nice to pay off some of those debts...

(Hey, if any of you live in the area and want a really good Language Arts tutor for your kid, let me know! Seriously. I'm good at it and I could use the money. Ahem.)

Numbers 6 through 10? Well. We'll see. (I really, really would like number nine to come true, but it's a little tough to make it an actual resolution.)

Ah, but number five...

I've never been the neatest person in the world. Okay, Mom, stop laughing. You too, Lauren. And SoccerSister. And soon-to-be-ex-husband. Oh, and all you former students.

Sigh.

This does not mean, however, that I do not appreciate a clean environment. I do. I just am not all that great at the little stuff. The not-leaving-things-all-over stuff. The maintenance stuff. The Clutter stuff.

Recent months have influenced me for the good, however. First, sharing residences with an ex (you know, the whole trading off on the house with the kids thing?) means that each of us needs to leave the place neat and tidy before the other person moves in on those toggle days. It keeps things sane and (more) drama-free. So I've been having to clean up and tidy much more than I did in the past. I'm getting almost used to it.

Also, Joe's house is delightfully clutter-free and he keeps it very tidy. He tends to keep things as simple as possible in his life, and I've found some inspiration in that. This approach worked pretty dang well for Christmas, and I'm thinking maybe it's one I could apply to other areas of life too.

So my real, very concrete, very doable resolution for 2010 is to Declutter. Specifically, every weekend when I have custody of the boys and therefore am in the house, I will produce AT LEAST one large box or bag of Stuff to donate or toss.

Trust me, there's enough to keep me going all year.

Today I went through the boys' toys and books and clothes, and I managed to produce a very large bin of books and toys for donation, a garbage bag full of trash, and a small pile of outgrown clothing. So I'm already good for the first custody weekend of the year! In two weeks, I plan to tackle my own closet. That may take a month...

And overall? The word of the year, this nice, neat, tidily-numbered year of 2010, is SIMPLIFY.

Because my life is complicated enough without cluttering it up with all the extras.

So Do You Know That Feeling...

So do you know that feeling you get when you look at your naked body in the mirror and realize that the utter lack of decrease in exercise and rampant indulgence increase in snacking has led to a body better described as "jiggly" than "jammin'"?

And do you know that feeling you get when you optimistically take home reams of grading with the full intention of spending most of your weekend (when not playing with/feeding/bathing/cleaning up after your kids) catching up on everything you should have been doing for the last three weeks, and then when you come back in to work on Monday you realize you only got about half of it done and you spent far more time chatting online and creating a mix-CD for a Christmas present?

And do you know that feeling when you write out the check for the house cleaner because she's coming in to clean (duh) and you look around and realize that while you managed to get the kids to clean up the majority of their incredible mess, the house is still way cluttered and messy and there isn't enough time left to clean up before the cleaner comes?*

You know how that feels?

No?

Um...

Yeah, me neither.

-------------------------------------------------
*Woah. I need a thesaurus. Way too many forms of "clean" in that sentence. I'm not doing so well on the writing front either, apparently.

two days late

i know it was a year
two days ago
i started this thing called a blog
thought i'd be clever
thought i'd share a few words
thought i'd pretend to be well-put-together

it's amazing how when there's an audience
for your Self put into code
sent out on the silicon veins
shot out over satellite waves
the truth has a way of coming out
creeping through the lines of lies
and half-truths
and shallow observations

and when the world comes crashing down
it's there
raw
real for once

so i took a break
didn't know if i'd return
or if the words would remain
silent in their wondering
what happened
and where did i go

and after three months
returned
with a new attitude
transparency
truth
time to be raw and real
and mix in a little humor
write what i know
write what i am
write what i would like to be

it's been a year
but a year of such change
such upheaval and pain
discovery and loss
stretching and learning
failing and growing
and still wondering
what will happen
and where will i go

it's hard not to plan
not to predict
not to jump a mile ahead
press fast-forward
take a short-cut through the woods
and forget the path
i'd rather skip the next few months
there's too much that's unknown

but that's not how it works
life
the process of time
is necessary and cannot be voided
a time machine would only land me
where i'd be unprepared for what has changed
experience is painful
but experience makes up Self

and so i'll write
and post
and learn
and grow
and fail
and grow some more

through pain and healing
sorrow and joy
evil and good

and even though i'm two days late
i'll send this out to you
my readers
who watch me in my journey
as witnesses to my words

and i'll say
wherever i go
wherever this next year takes me
thank you
and thank you
and thank you again
and may the words mean more
than a vacant babbling in the wind

Meanderings

1. It isn't hard to love them, these miniature people with the wacky senses of humor and infectious giggles and puckered-lip smooches, but it is at times immensely difficult to like them. Especially at six o'clock in the morning when I'm trying to convince them that they should get dressed and maybe not whine and cry and throw their clothes across the room and twist away from me while I'm putting on their shirts/shorts/socks. Oh, and then God forbid I actually get them out the door without carrying them both simultaneously along with my laptop, purse, and lunch. I am, after all, a professional pack mule.

You should sleep in later, DramaBoy informed me as we drove the (thankfully much shorter) commute to daycare and work.

I'd like to, but I can't. My work starts early, I replied.

Well, then you should tell them they start too early and they need to start later, he said.

Sometimes I wonder how I ended up in a career where I am routinely up before dawn and starting my day just as most normal people are thinking about crawling out of bed and hopping in the shower. Not for me the leisurely breakfast with the newspaper over a steaming mug of coffee. I forgot to grab a new box of South Beach Cereal Bars this morning, so I had to go begging. My darling mentee S. had a snack pack of chocolate crackers in her cabinet, so at least I won't be taking my pills on an empty stomach. Yesterday that did not go well: between the lack of breakfast and my unfortunate habit of dehydrating myself during the workday, I had a bad reaction to my antibiotics and had to go home early.

Note to self: Drink More Water.

2. I've managed to get a few of my many stacks of papers graded this week, and hopefully more will be done this afternoon. I miss the days of teacher's aides: when the state changed the rules about monitoring TAs and making sure they were actually working, the district discontinued the program. I worked my TAs hard. In fact, I had one student who referred to himself as my "TB"--he said he wasn't the Teacher's Aide, he was the Teacher's B*tch.

So now there is no one to grade the objective quizzes and tests that pile up on my desk, no one to file my papers, no one to decorate my bulletin boards or make posters or tidy my cabinets. I laugh when people say that teachers have it easy, working a measly six- or seven-hour day. That's ignorance talking, so usually I forgive.

Unless they get insulting about it, in which case I have to wrestle with the rage. So far no one's gotten hurt. Much.

3. I still haven't unpacked and organized things at the house and apartment. I'm struggling with decisions, such as where to keep the majority of my clothing and shoes. I think the house is the logical choice, but this means I will have to plan ahead. I'm much more accustomed to waking in the morning and choosing my outfit based on how I feel. Is it a sophisticated sort of day, or am I feeling cute? Skirt or slacks? Jacket or cardigan? Blouse or top? And then there's the issue of accessories. Earrings, rings, necklaces, shoes. I'm an emotional dresser. I think I will have to provide myself with at least two more outfit options than I actually need in order to satisfy my sartorial soul.

4. At some point I need to go coat shopping. I have a snappy little charcoal grey coat from the Gap that will do for daily going-to-work during the winter, but I am lacking a true winter coat for the outdoors. Since DramaBoy is already stating his desire for winter to arrive so he can play in the snow...

You'll get tired of the snow after a little while, I said.

No, I won't! I will love the snow forever and ever! he replied.

...and it looks like I might actually get involved in outdoor activities more often these days, perhaps I should have outerwear that will prevent hypothermia. I may need to invest in a good pair or two of long underwear, not to mention heavy socks and real gloves. Oh, and perhaps a pair of boots that don't have a fancy heel.

Last winter I barely stepped foot outside other than travelling to and from my car. I'm sure that didn't help my depression any. This year I just might breathe some fresh air and have a snowball fight or two. I've heard a rumor that Michigan actually has sun in winter. That vitamin D could do me a world of good.

5. A student thanked me this morning for making him write that horrendous ten-page paper last year that is the annual bane of my sophomores' existence.

I told you so, I said, always the gracious victor.

My sophomores this year have already heard about it. The paper is a good seven or eight months away and they're already groaning.

I love having a reputation as a tough teacher. I don't want to be the teacher students choose because they'll be able to skate through my classes. I want to be the teacher they remember years later, the one they just might send an e-mail or card to, or drop by on a visit, so that they can tell me that as much as they resented the work I made them do, they are grateful for it now.

I do have students who return, however, who sign up for classes on the chance they'll get me again, who visit my classroom and tell me how much they miss having me. It feeds my soul to know I have an impact, that I make a difference. I could not be happy in a career where I felt like I was just a cog in a machine, where if I disappeared no one would know the difference and my position would be filled as if I had never been there. Knowing that at least some of my students see me as a significant person in their lives makes the stress of this job worthwhile.

It even makes getting out of bed at 5:30 in the morning bearable. With a cup of coffee, of course.

6. I took the RHETI Enneagram test yesterday on the recommendation of my dear friend Heidi. I've always been a fan of the Myers-Briggs Type Indicator, a tried-and-true personality assessment I've loved for years. (I'm an XNFJ, for those of you in the know--a combination of INFJ and ENFJ depending on my context.) The Enneagram goes hand-in-hand with the MBTI, really, even asking for one's MBTI type on the RHETI test. It turns out I'm a Type 4, the Individualist, with a secondary emphasis of Type 2, the Helper. Reading the Type 4 description was...eerie. It was as if someone crawled into my head and wrote me down. The Type 2 description is a little more secondary, but still true.

Something written on the Enneagram Institute website caught my attention, because it is true of both my Type 4 and Type 2 aspects, and it says a great deal about why I do what I do:

Perhaps the biggest obstacle facing Twos, Threes, and Fours in their inner work is having to face their underlying Center fear of worthlessness. Beneath the surface, all three types fear that they are without value in themselves, and so they must be or do something extraordinary in order to win love and acceptance from others.

I cannot express how true this has been for me during my life. Even now, when I am stronger and more self-confidant than I have been in...well, ever! I still struggle to believe that people would love me simply because I am Me, rather than because I am or do something that stands out, that grabs attention, that has a Wow! factor.

Last night Joe told me that he wants to know me just because I am who I am, not because of what I do or can do for him. I want to believe this, but it's difficult. I so often feel like I am insufficient in myself, that I need to do and be More. I'm still learning to love myself, to be content with who I am in the Now.

Where I'm blessed is the many wonderful people in my life who are patient enough to keep telling me this, who are happy to just spend time with me. I was reminded again this morning, when I read a lovely comment from GingerB, a fellow blogger whom I have never met, yet who sent a message of love across the blogosphere.

I love you too, Ginger. I love you all, and I'm so thankful for you all.

I better end my ramblings before I get all mushy and verklempt.

Happy Friday, you wonderful people!

If Blogs Were Weather Patterns, This One Would Have the Meteorologists Stumped. Because They're Always Spot On in the Normal Course of Things.

Okay, so yeah, here it's Tuesday and I haven't been on here for realsies in ages and you're probably wondering, Hey, doesn't she love us anymore?  And the answer is, Yes, yes I do, but life is crazy and busy and awful and wonderful and up and down and sideways all at once and sometimes I think I might just need to pull over for a while and hyperventilate in private.

Because I'm insane complicated that way.

School is going well, other than having to squish the occasional overly-vociferous boy-child and threaten them with a dark, dusty sojourn in the Pottery Jar of Ashy Anguish.

"Ashes of Obnoxious Teenagers"

It always seems to be the boy-children. With the very occasional exception (none so far this year), I spend more time exhorting the female students to speak up than I do commanding them to pipe down.

I move up to the apartment/house on Saturday and have gotten absolutely nothing packed or ready yet. I have a vision of flinging everything down from the third-story window into the waiting arms of various friends and family so they can stuff it all in cars and haul it north. I'm terribly afraid it may come true.

I had a fabulous time over the weekend. My nails are now purple. I was only able to read 40 pages of the book I took, which says something about the amount of time I spent talking and laughing and goofing off instead.

I have graded a grand total of NONE of the papers piling up on my desk. That's a task for this afternoon, since I'll be stuck here until the Sneak Peek (a.k.a. parents-come-meet-teachers-and-check-things-out) tonight. Fortunately a wonderful and much-missed retired teacher is feeding a number of us at her house beforehand.

A former student brought me dark-chocolate-and-raspberry Godiva chocolate bars today. I may have to write her into my will.

I am surviving on practically no sleep, a mug of coffee, a breakfast bar, and a Godiva chocolate bar. The walls are wiggling a little.

And now perhaps I should return to work, since there are some students here to teach. I don't know where they came from. Apparently the tables have given birth.

Remember, only silly teddy bears wear red bow ties.

I Really Am Excited About School Starting, but I Need a Good Kickstart

Tired. That's the word. And unmotivated. That's another good one.

I started the day with vim and vigor, but my energy has waned and I'm staring around at the chaos that is my classroom, with its haphazard few decorations (the rest are sitting on tables and in cabinets), with the piles of textbooks staring at me. We dare you, they taunt. You haven't poured your heart into your job in three years. What makes you think you can start now?

I want to, you know. I want to get back to teaching the way I know I can teach, with passion and committment and dedication to my work. I want to open up vistas for students, spark ideas, build confidence and skill. I want them to want to come to my class, even when they know I'll be tough and kick their butts.

But lack of sleep and the sleepiness of my new medication (which will wane, they say, as my body grows accustomed) mean that I've gotten little done today. I look back over the last ten hours and wonder--what have I accomplished? A little lesson planning with my Professional Learning Community colleagues, a handful of decorations put up, a good deal of semi-fruitless efforts to create reading quizzes for the summer reading assignments.

I'll be here tomorrow, but will have no time to work in my classroom. And I won't be able to stay after school. So Friday is my last chance. I'll have five or six hours during the day to tackle this room, tackle my remaining prep work. Next Tuesday the students descend upon us and I must be ready, come hell or high water.

Anyone have a handy teen just dying to spend an hour in a classroom helping a frazzled TeacherMommy get the room looking presentable? I might even be willing to cough up a buck or two...

I Tried to Make This Sound Exciting, but I Don't Have Much to Work With (and Yes, I Know That's Grammatically Incorrect)

After a brief kid-filled pool party this morning with a friend's MOPS group (we were rained out after an hour), I returned with my wee whiners to the house. Fun time was over. Today was the day. I had put it off for four months, and there was no turning back.

It was time to Clean the Room.

Back in May, when my parents flew out of the country, I moved up into the Skyhouse, their charming attic suite. Which has since become less charming and more lived-in-by-children. This freed up the second-floor room where I had been staying since January, and on Monday a young couple is moving in there as renters.

The problem is that I am a slob. I am also the queen of procrastinators. Therefore, I moved the things I wanted up into the Skyhouse and left behind a nice variety of extraneous minutiae, such as my winter clothing and my jeans that don't fit any more (they're too big!) and craft supplies and books I'd already read. And there they have sat, collecting dust mites.

So today I put an Imagination Movers DVD on for the kidlets, turned my MP3 player to the Garden State soundtrack, plugged in the earbuds, and got down to work.

I swear my stuff must have procreated, because I don't remember having that much in there.

Today, despite the rain, is stifling hot and, due to the rain, horribly humid. That room hasn't had the windows open or a fan running in months, and there's no central air in this house. So after only fifteen minutes my shirt was sticking to my skin, my bra was rubbing damply beneath my boobs, and my hair was plastered attractively to my face. Great fun.

By the time everything was packed up and the bed was stripped and I could put my brother to work lugging my things upstairs, the soundtrack was over and the kidlets were beating each other up in the living room. So I am now sitting on the couch while DramaBoy complains about the show availability on TV, luxuriating in the breeze sweeping through the windows. Shortly, DramaBoy will have to deal with my own choice of show. And I will cheerfully ignore the enormous pile of clutter up in the Skyhouse until I can't avoid tidying up there as well.

Holy cannoli, but I am pooped. This cleaning thing is so overrated.

I Only Took a Little Break to Come Online, Okay? I Swear I'll Tackle the Piles of Clothes in a Minute!

I know it's been like, two days since I posted and all, but oh lordy. I just don't have the time or energy in all this humid heat (I'm such a wuss these years) to write anything deep and/or witty. At least in reality: you should SEE what I've composed in my head during all the car trips! And this means that I'll be composing even more on Wednesday when I travel up to the Upper Peninsula with the boys in tow--including my bro, who will help keep the kidlets (and therefore me) sane. Perhaps I'll pull out my computer and type some things up while my brother drives. We'll see. Maybe if the kidlets fall asleep.

In the meantime, I'm scrambling to clean house, especially since renters will be moving in this month and I never fully moved all my stuff out of that room, and maybe (or maybe not--stupid credit) I'll be moving back up to that suburb sometime soonish if we can rent a one-bedroom apartment (more on that later), and I have meetings and appointments crammed in tonight and tomorrow. Oh, and I should probably pack at some point.

So remind me to tell you about the following when I have a chance:
My visit back to my childhood church this last Sunday morning (oh the angst! and then not)
My children and their delightful conversations with each other (90% DramaBoy, 10% Widget)
My overwhelming hatred of paying bills and cleaning house which makes me yearn to win the lottery so that I have no more debt and can hire a full-time maid (oh, well that's about it on that one, especially since I haven't bought any tickets lately, so no post needed)

And depending on how it goes, maybe I'll fill you in on the trip up to the UP, too. We'll see.

So, I'll write you when I can...Loves and cuddles 'til then!

Eight Reasons I Haven't Been Posting And This Is The Post You're Getting

1. Sleeping in on my day off (last Friday)

2. Spending the rest of my day off (1) having lunch with my dear friend M., (2) frantically looking for my missing cell phone that is STILL MISSING, and (3) finally catching up on some bill-paying (I know, I know--not much of a Day Off Activity. What can I say? At least it left me feeling like a weight had been lifted from my shoulders!)

3. Two Small Boys. Enough said.

4. Going to the Detroit Yacht Club (doesn't that make me sound so hoity-toity? ;D) to grill and go out on my father-in-law's sailboat on Memorial Day

5. Two Small Boys AND self getting/being sick with a nasty cold

6. Spending whatever time I WAS on the computer playing World of Warcraft instead of blogging

7. Being completely intimidated when I looked at my Dashboard and realized that everyone else had, in fact, been blogging and I now have three zillion and one blog posts to read

8. Having way too much work to do and catch up on, with only two weeks remaining to complete it all--why hello, Professor Panic, when did you show up?

There you go. Hopefully I'll be back at some point soon.

In the meantime, here are some Deep Questions to ponder (for more, check out Crazy Thoughts):

• How far east can you go before you're heading west?
• Why is it that everyone driving faster than you is considered an idiot and everyone driving slower than you is a moron?
• If a kid refuses to sleep during nap time, are they guilty of resisting a rest?
• When does it stop being partly cloudy and start being partly sunny?
• If ghosts can walk through walls and glide down stairs, why don't they fall through the floor?
• What do you do when you see an endangered animal that is eating an endangered plant?
• How can something be "new" and "improved"? If it's new, what was it improving on?
• If, in a baseball game, the batter hits a ball splitting it right down the center with half the ball flying out of the park and the other half being caught, what is the final ruling?

Discuss.

Do What I Say, Not What I Do

Yesterday I went off on my honors tenth graders.

They were whining, as has become all too usual, about my daring to *gasp* MAKE THEM DO WORK. I know. I am so cruel.

You see, I just assigned them the dreaded TeacherMommy Ten-Page Paper That Requires Them To Do All Sorts of Unreasonable Things. Namely: (1) read and analyze a major piece of American literature on their own; (2) research the biographical info of the author, (3) research the historical context of the literature/author; (4) synthesize their literary analysis and research into a seven-to-ten-page paper that discusses how that author's work is the "living memory" of our nation, with proper MLA format, citations, and Works Cited page; and finally (5) prepare and deliver a ten-minute presentation, with visuals and handouts, of their findings.

It's a bitch of an assignment.

This is the project that makes students who formerly adored me start snarling at me with hatred and resentment. My response is and has been that I really don't care if they hate me right now, BUT however long it is down the road (a few months if they're bright; a few years or more if they're a little slower on the uptake) that they finally realize that I was doing a major favor by prepping them for the hard work they will face in the future, they need to thank me. E-mail, phone call, walk in my room, catch me in the hall: I don't care how they do it, they need to do it.

At any rate, I went off on a rant and preached at them from my lofty soapbox about Doing Things You Don't Like To Do and Taking Responsibility and Not Being Whiny Little Bastards. One of the examples I brought up is parenthood: as much as one may love one's children, there is a LOT of crap (literal and figurative) that comes along with the job, and one has to just get through that and deal with it and move on.

I realize that I am in danger of being labelled a hypocrite here. My own motivation at work is on par with the seniors'. My desk is overflowing with pile after pile of quizzes and papers that really need to be graded and which I have not touched in ages. I have several student evaluations to write for IEPs which may be overdue at this point: I don't even remember when they were supposed to be turned in.

As for parenting--last night and this morning I definitely slipped down the scale of parenting excellence, at least as far as patience goes. I found myself responding a little too harshly last night when DramaBoy and (especially) The Widget insisted on climbing out of bed again and again and again instead of staying put as I told them to. This morning as I struggled to get bags and a computer and kids all out to the car in the rain (I'm staying with ComputerDaddy for a couple of days, so of course I have to pack up half my life), I repeatedly lost my temper. I snarled and snapped at them as they got in the way when I was lugging things out, as The Widget wailed and followed me about because I dared leave his sight, as DramaBoy lost his shoe on the porch and simply walked away instead of putting it back on, as I discovered and had to clean up the ridiculous mess they had made with cereal while I was in the shower, as DramaBoy began whining when he heard he was going to his daycare today instead of switching over to The Widget's as he insists he wants to do...

Feeling that rage boil up inside me, I had to remind myself that these are my sons, these are the precious little people who bring me daily reminders of grace, these are the souls God has put in my care. And as I just told my students yesterday, I must take the frustrating along with the rewarding. My whining and complaining, my lack of patience and forgiveness (It was an accident! DramaBoy insisted tearfully as I growled about the cereal mess. I don't care! I snapped back) is just like that of my students yesterday.

I'm better at giving instructions than following them.

So it's time to take a big breath, pray for grace and patience, and start over again.

Apology to my Students: A Poem

I've always liked William Carlos William's brilliant "This is Just to Say," and when GingerB at Gas-Food-Lodging posted her own very funny spoof and linked back to Schmutzie's marvelous post, I had to take on the challenge. You may see more.

This is Just to Say...
by TeacherMommy

I did not grade
your papers
or quizzes
today

Which you
have been
asking about
the last three weeks

Forgive me
the blogs
were seductive
and many

Hail to the Victor (It's Not What You Think)

I've actually been wanting to sit down and write some posts the last couple of days but have had to Resist Temptation because once again I have been my Bad Bad Bad Procrastinating Self and put off grading things until the very last minute. TECHNICALLY grades aren't due until 10:00 tomorrow morning, but we were supposed to export them the first time at 10:00 yesterday morning and guess who was frantically entering grades and didn't check the clock until 10:06 when posting was closed?

You got it in one.

Since I STILL didn't have all the grades entered at that point, I simply sighed and moved on with classes. At the end of the day I righteously packed up the remainder of the papers that needed to be checked and took them with me in their cute little pink and green accordion folder. Where they stayed while I got my oil changed...

(I know I'm way overdue--please don't yell at me! I begged the nice people at the oil changing station I frequent. I am the Queen of Procrastination and have to pay for it--sometimes literally.

You're five thousand miles overdue, you know, he said gently. You see this gunk? This is your oil. We recommended a system flush last time, and I really think you need to get it this time.

Along with the overdue coolant flush I had already requested. I'm surprised my poor overworked vehicle still chugs along. Not to mention my overworked wallet.)

...and while I searched fruitlessly at JoAnn Fabrics for the precise shade of blue cross stitch fabric to replace the piece that I mutilated in my attempt to rip out the hundreds of stitches I had done in the wrong color, and while I did my five miles of aerobic walking, and while I watched NCIS (my latest TV addiction--did you know that the USA channel plays three episodes in a row every week day? My DVR is getting filled), and while I played World of Warcraft until it was time to crawl into bed.

It's not that I'm doing nothing with my time, or even that I'm always doing useless things, it's that I just don't always seem to remember that those papers are sitting there, mournful and lonely, until it's too late to actually do anything about them anymore.

But VICTORY IS MINE, for I have labored mightily today and conquered my foe!

Even though it meant I completely forgot to do my lesson planning for my last hour of the day and had to come up with a totally off-the-cuff Scavenger Hunt.

(Go get your lit books from your lockers, I told them, eliciting groans as they faced lugging the massive tomes through the hallways, and search for all the texts you can find that deal with discrimination, racism, and/or hatred. You can't use texts we've already used.

Thereby having THEM do MY work for me, since we're doing a quick overview of such texts before diving into A Raisin in the Sun and Night. We're a wily lot, we
educators.)

So maybe, now that I've gotten all that pesky work stuff out of the way for the time being, I can get back to the far more important task of blogging.

Never let it be said that I don't have priorities.