Extremes

I find myself in an odd limbo, strung between utter happiness and gloomy despair. Utter happiness because in just under five months MTL and I will be married, and while I am having to watch myself carefully for signs of going off the deep end in preparations for the shindig, plans proceed apace and almost everything is falling smoothly into place.

We're overly organized, really. Honestly, the only reason I don't have the wording for our wedding programs completely set is because one of my beloved bridesmaids is still trying to figure out whether or not she'll be able to attend and stand up for me. Pesky miles. I keep telling her that she and her family should just move over here, but for some reason Michigan doesn't seem to be much of a draw right now...

Cue the other extreme.

The gloomy despair? All it takes is for wave after wave after wave of news and worse news flooding through the television and Internet and email. I love my job, but am seriously wondering if I will be able to continue teaching for much longer. The politicians of this nation and most definitely this state seem intent on destroying the public education system, and sadly enough, too many people seem quite willing to let them do so. I find myself in tears, considering a nation where only those who can afford to do so will be educated (whether through private schools or homeschools--because yes, you have to be able to afford to homeschool), where corporations will get even fatter off the profits of charter schools, where the Least Of These will be once again forgotten and shunted to wither away in their corners and holes.

We are not a democracy. We are not a republic. We are a corporate oligarchy, and the bloated barons are laughing as they feast on the fat of the land.

Updates: Because I Know You Were Wondering

1. Why yes, I am feeling better! And here's the absolutely AMAZING thing: all it took was for me to STOP TAKING THE MEDICINE. Oh yes. You have that right. After multiple trips to the doctor and an ultrasound for my bladder and kidneys, all I really had to do was stop taking the damn Macrobid, keep drinking lots of water, and do my back stretches just a little more thoroughly. And HEY PRESTO! I don't feel like I'm dragging my body across a desert wasteland, my back feels mostly okay (considering it's my back), and my nether regions feel a little less like they've been channeling a little piece of the netherworld.

I'm still going to the urologist next week, though. I'm also still chugging water (and running for the bathroom) on a regular basis. Lesson: learned (hopefully).

2. In case you were wondering, I DID in fact get both a hug (more than one, actually) and a Date Night with MTL last week. Although we may have been so tired that we settled for a visit to our favorite Mexican restaurant and then snuggling on the couch to watch a movie. WITH NO ONE ELSE AROUND. Just maybe. And really? That was good. Very good.

3. On Saturday we drove down to Detroit and hauled my brother and his things back up to my house. He's been having a bit of a rough time living down there lately, what with the loneliness and the lack of available jobs and transportation issues and whatnot, and when he crashed my parents' car...well, he need some TLC. So we brought him up to our place for not quite two weeks, and it worked very well and he fit in perfectly and when he left--well, we kind of wanted him back. So we invited him to come live with us at least until my parents come back in March, and he said yes, and now we are Eight. Since the Dark One has stayed only one night at our place since she left in September (because God forbid she be away from her troll boyfriend for any length of time), we moved my brother into that room instead.

For the sake of this blog, he shall henceforth be known as "DMB", which is short for "DorkMaster B". Trust me, it fits. And he approves.

4. Thursday is DramaBoy's fifth birthday. FIFTH. This is bizarre. It's also Thanksgiving, here in these American parts, so we're sort of combining them but also tentatively planning a separate party in a couple of weeks and once again I am reminded that holiday birthdays are kind of annoying. Even though they are easier to remember. Considering that seven out of the eight of us (I'm including DMB here) have birthdays either on or right around holidays, it's a family Thing now.

Me: Christmas Day
MTL: Valentine's Day
DMB: Just before Halloween
The Dark One: American Independence Day
KlutzGirl: Often around Easter (this year, it's on Good Friday)
DramaBoy: Right around (or, this year, on) American Thanksgiving
The Widget: Often around Easter (a little earlier than KlutzGirl)

So the only one who isn't is The Padawan. Poor boy. Or lucky one, considering he gets his very own day without a holiday mucking up the process.

5. On the side of Evil triumphing over Good, two very evil things have occurred this week: first, someone(s) broke into my parents' house on Monday (fortunately while the renter was out), smashing a window and breaking down some interior doors. My brother's things were gone, of course, and my parents' were packed away, so only the poor renter suffered loss. His laptop and some other things were stolen. It all makes me very angry: most likely someone saw us moving my brother out and figured there would be less monitoring of the house. At least the (very active) house alarm limited the time and damage. And yet: SIGH.

The second and more evil of the events is that one of my stepson's teachers was arrested on suspicion of child molestation--not at school and not one of the students, but OMG ANYWAYS. This sort of thing makes me so very angry on so many levels: that the evil of molestation happens, that child molesters exist at all, that it was one of my stepson's teachers (!!!!), and that once again it is one of these cases where the evil individual will cast a shadow over the entire educational system. I know it's all alleged right now, and that guilt and innocence must wait for the trial and all that....but still.

This week has not been strong for the side of Good.

6. Except for the case of my school's annual Canned Food Drive. We nearly missed our goal, but a flurry of last-minute cash donations edged us over, and as of this morning we have collected the equivalent of over 60,000 cans in food and cash donations for a local food bank. It's one of the reasons I love this school: the staff and students here regularly reach astonishing levels of generosity for a wide variety of charitable causes. The Food Drive is one; next week the annual Gift Drive for an impoverished elementary school in Detroit takes place; other drives occur frequently to help charities and individual students and families stricken by illness and accident. Last year alone my school raised over $84,000 in charitable donations. That's not the district; that's not the county; that was ONE SCHOOL ALONE. In one year. And while we do have wealthy students and families here, we also have the very, very poor. It's a very diverse school both ethnically and socio-economically.

So that? That makes me proud. And it gives me hope, a little light in the darkness, that sometimes, just perhaps, Good can in fact overcome the many forces of Evil.

An Unexpected Post : Now With Lava. And SHARKS.

So a dear fellow teacher and friend of mine posted this link on her Facebook page with a statement about how all the cruelty in the world saddens her, and I read it while I was wasting time procrastinating taking a break during my prep hour and then commented that people like this should be exiled to an island where we wouldn't have to share the same air. And she commented back about how they don't deserve the beauty of an island, and I responded that it could be one of the ones devastated by nuclear testing and we can surround it with electric fencing and SHARKS, and she said they'd still get to enjoy the sunsets and that just doesn't seem right.

So we came up with a new idea. We think that all the evil douchebags of the world (including but not limited to cyber AND non-cyber bullies as well as massive numbers of politicians, Wall Street brokers, megacorporation CEOs, and of course idiot drivers who think the road belongs to them and their massive SUVs) should be air-dropped into the center of the very very deep caldera of a dormant volcano with impossible-to-climb sides. The top of the caldera should be rimmed with electric fencing, just in case.

We are also debating the possibility of genetically engineering lava sharks, because there need to be sharks. Obviously. We think one of our science teacher friends may be able to help us.

And just think of the excitement the evil douchebags will get to experience on a daily basis, what with all that wondering whether the volcano will decide to end its dormancy!

Talk about fire and brimstone. We have all those ultra Baptist preachers beat by a mile.

Because we're talking LAVA SHARKS, people!!!!

Like this. Only a lot scarier and more shark-like, because honestly this doesn't exactly make me shake in my shoes. Don't blame me. Blame mishaelley.

I fully expect a Nobel prize or two when we've accomplished all this. You're welcome.

Who else should we include in our group of future charcoal briquettes exiles? We're open to the possibility of employing multiple volcanoes, if need be.

I've Got Them Under My Skin. Kind of Like Chiggers.

So Wanderlust tagged me for a meme about Seven Things That Get Under My Skin (but not in the Frank Sinatra sort of way) and it's honestly more about narrowing down the list than coming up with ideas. Especially today because OMG I was hanging on to my temper with a death grip at one point this afternoon, I kid you not. It was one of those moments where I had to shut my mouth and just breathe, then decide NOT to address the issue that was standing there in the room like the biggest frickin' pachyderm ever described by Rudyard Kipling (Oh Best Beloveds) and instead move on while talking in a very very very calm and soft voice. This served to send every student in the room into a stock-still nervous hush because they could tell the slightest slip might send me over the edge and they apparently wanted to survive the day.

Smartest thing they did all hour.

Anywho, here are my grumpy seven things that are currently getting under my skin (and I'm keeping a smallish scope here, people, because it could get ugly otherwise.)

--1--

Politicians. Pretty much all the time and everywhere, but especially (right now) the Michigan ones who have apparently decided that their budget woes can be solved by screwing all the public servants and state employees, especially the teachers, police officers, and firefighters. BECAUSE THEY CAN.

--2--

Lazy students. Like mine today. The ones who've had a week to work on a project WITH class time to do so and chose today--the Due Day--to come up and tell me they weren't done and needed more time. Or the ones who had a presentation but had obviously invested as little effort as possible. It's a good thing this year is almost over, both for my blood pressure and their continued existence.

--3--

The smokers whining about the changed law here in Michigan. Especially the ones who believe that second-hand smoke is a myth. I KID YOU NOT. Makes me want to grab their little cancer sticks and shove them in a different orifice so they can enjoy a special kind of smoking experience.

--4--

The legal system. Especially the way it's been designed to make it as difficult as possible, if not practically impossible, to do anything without resorting to lawyers. It's a self-propagating, parasitic process that sucks us "regular" people dry. As Arby commented to me last week, judges are just lawyers in a referee outfit. And as Shakespeare wisely humorously wrote in Henry VI: The first thing we do, let's kill all the lawyers.*

--5--

Bureaucratic nonsense--especially bureaucratic nonsense that costs money. The district hired a firm to run an audit of all the dependents carried on health insurance by district employees. You know, to make sure we're not lying bastards or whatever it is they think we are. I never received my audit in the mail, or it got misplaced (you know, what with the whole weird living situation thing), so here I get an email today about it, and I have to come up with all this paperwork proving the existence of my dependents. It needs to be postmarked by May 31st. WHICH IS MEMORIAL DAY. /headdesk

So I'm scrambling to get that together and mailed by Friday at the latest.

And how is this audit being funded? Oh, don't worry. It's not being paid for up front by the district. No, it will be paid out of the premium savings made through the audit.

see more Lolcats and funny pictures

--6--

Telling a certain someone that he needs to get a certain task accomplished for OVER A MONTH only to discover, yet again, that it was not accomplished. And knowing full well, all the time, that eventually I will have to give in and just do it my own damn self, give him the receipt, and have him pay for it this time because I paid for it last time. Just like almost every one of these kinds of tasks we share. Passive aggressive, much? Also see: insanity.

--7--

KIDS WHO WILL NOT GO TO SLEEP even though it's getting insanely late and they'll be super grouchy in the morning when I have to get them up to go to school. I mean, at least they're being quiet. But the morning's gonna be a bitch.


There you go. I think I may have used up my grump allotment for the day. But WHOO does it feel good to get it out!

I'm now tagging:

DraftQueen at The Drafts Folder
Beth at BurkinaMom in France
Aunt Becky at Mommy Wants Vodka
MaryMac at Pajamas and Coffee
Nicola at Some Mothers Do Ave Em
Melissa at Rock and Drool

And since the whining gets to even me, let's relax a bit and listen to something much nicer.

------------------------------------
*For the sake of legal protection, I state for the record that I am not, in fact, promoting or condoning violence toward anyone, no matter how scum-sucking or sharklike he or she may be. Ahem.

I Think It Should Be More Than One Week A Year, But At Least There's SOMETHING!

Photo courtesy of www.worldbuzznow.com

(See? I CITED MY SOURCE!)

Have you thanked a teacher today?

I mean, you don't necessarily have to walk up to some random teachers and thank them, because while they may be somewhat pleased, they'll also be very confused. This is because they'll be sure you must have been their student/parent of a student at some point and they've forgotten your face and name and holy crap what do they do now?!?!?!

So be nice. Thank a teacher you know. Or, more to the point, knows you.

As for me, my not-so-little brats are driving me crazy today because they apparently did NOT get the memo. I'm trying very hard to not commit a felony stay professional.

WARNING: RANT POST MAY BE FORTHCOMING unless those kids who didn't show up for the presentation THEY SIGNED UP FOR were in the hospital and have the doctor's note to prove it, because they are DEAD MEAT otherwise, let me tell you grumblemumblegrumblegrrrrrrrrr......

Cheers!!!

To Tell The Truth

Okay. Perhaps I haven't been as honest as all that. There's some angst. It's just angst I don't feel like I can write about much. You know. The Big D. And money. Evil, nasty, wish-I-had-more Money. And the whole What Does The Future Hold? thing. And hot water. And mailboxes.

Um, yeah, about those last two. The house hasn't had hot water for two weeks now. The kidlet's father has been great about handling it, but it's been a nightmare. The hot water heater is broken; the Roto Rooter guy keeps misdiagnosing/lying-about/whatever it; Sears apparently doesn't feel that keeping stock in, well, stock is anything very important; and two weeks later we are on our third diagnosis, second part being shipped, and impending fourth visitation from el Roto Rooter dude whenever it is that the all-important (and please dear God correct) package arrives.

And no hot water.

Then today someone decided to take a detour off the beaten path and obliterate the mailbox. As in smashed to smithereens, metal bar twisted and awry, wooden slats and muddied mail spread about the road. That someone was kind enough to deliver the remains of the mailbox to the front door, along with its damaged contents, but was not kind enough to leave a note so that we could have it replaced via his/her insurance. Which is, by the way, what happened three winters ago when the ex lost control on the icy curve and took out four mailboxes. WE left notes with all our insurance information and explanations for how to file claims at each house's front door.

Because we are Good People.

And yes, I'm judging him/her.

Life is not horrible or even bad, but as my chiropractor said, I am under stress. And as well as I am handling things in general, as happy as I am in many ways, that stress is still there. I think it's bubbling to the surface this week, what with money being extra tight, so many things going wrong (aren't they supposed to be limited to threes? I think we're on five or seven), and the switch from my regular routine.

So tonight? Tonight I'm tired and anxious and lonely and just a touch sad.

And that's the truth of things.

Because It's Not Just Kids Who Have a Sense of Toilet Humor (Warning: Not for the Overly Squeamish)

For decades people have discussed, debated, argued, and even screamed about an enormously important issue that is central to the lives of most Americans. Friends discuss it in a friendly fashion--unless they are roommates and on opposite sides of the issue, in which case the friendliness vanishes. Advice columns cover the topic once annually to address the flood of letters. Spouses seek counseling over it. For some dating couples, this crucial issue can be a deal breaker.

I speak, of course, of the Great Toilet Paper Hanging Debate.

Over or Under? Chances are you have an opinion, and it's a strong one. For many, the directionality of the toilet paper roll on the toilet paper holder is passed down from generation to generation. In peaceful households, all are in agreement, until some interloping in-law introduces riotous disfunction when he or she loads a new roll improperly. In other, less fortunate households, the debate rages on between family members, leading to sneak attacks and middle-of-the-roll alter[c]ations.

Most advice columnists say there is no Right or Wrong way to hang the roll, that the choice is ultimately up to the individual--and therefore an ongoing issue for debate. However, I am happy to inform you that there is, indeed, a Right way to hang the toilet paper roll, and I have incontrovertible support for my position.

Diagram courtesy of treehugger.com

I'm so sorry, Under people, but you are Wrong. The only Right way to hang toilet paper is Over, and there are three strong reasons for this.

Any parent who has potty-trained a child knows that the ultimate goal is for that child to be able to wipe his or her own butt. Even after the days of diapers are long past, every parent knows all too well the lilting song that issues from the bathroom, often loudest in public restrooms, of Mommy! Daddy! Come and wipe me! There may no longer be a soggy disgusting diaper of which to dispose, but for quite some time you must still place your hands into the depths and wipe off what your child cannot reach.

Or you could just deal with some truly disgusting laundry and bad cases of rear-end rash. Your pick.

Therefore, anything that simplifies the transition to your child being able to do the wiping is all to the good. Watch a child attempt to gather toilet paper sometime. Toilet paper that hangs Over the roll is simpler by far for those chubby little fingers to grasp than the elusive end trapped behind the bulk of the roll in the Under position. Be kind to your child. Use the Over position.

A similar situation applies to adults as well. No doubt everyone has experienced middle-of-the-night bathroom adventures, usually complicated by an inability to wake fully during the experience and a reluctance to turn on any lights. In such a semi-somnolent and darkened state, the last thing anyone wants to do is fumble for the end of the toilet paper, again trapped behind the bulk of the roll in the Under position. Likewise, not all toilet paper hangers offer easy access to Under-hung toilet paper, particularly in public restrooms. Just yesterday, at a doctor's office, I found myself in the highly frustrating situation of fighting to get more than a few shreds of flimsy single-ply paper off an Under-hung roll a little too big for the limited space between hanger and wall. Granted, I would have struggled somewhat even if the roll was Over-hung, but the fight would have been far simpler to win. At the very least, the shreds of paper would have been significantly larger and more useful.

Besides the issue of easy access, however, we must acknowledge the crucial component of cleanliness. Bathrooms and toilets are already germ factories, and any reduction we can make in the general nastiness is vital. When toilet paper is Under-hung, people's hands come into contact with far more paper than necessary, especially on second and third wipings (for those of us who are thorough and therefore civilized). Just imagine the filth that is left behind for the next person to use that roll! I shudder to even think of it.

So if you have been hanging your toilet paper properly (i.e. Over), then give yourself a pat on the back--once you've washed your hands thoroughly, of course. And if you have been falling into error all this time (i.e. using the Under method)...

Repent. There is still time to mend your ways. Forgiveness is freely offered.

I'm generous like that.

I Was Trying For Something Humorous And Then Found Myself Getting All Nasty. Must Have Been The Subject Matter.

We never talk trash, our rhymes are clean
Our rhymes are never vague and we say nothing obscene
So any sucker mcs who wanna battle us
Can you go at least 20 lines without a cuss?
Cause once we start to jam, you'll be in a state of shock
Clear the way party people, we're the new kids on the block

Ah, memories. Back in 1990, when I was a gangly, gawky, flat-as-a-stick seventh grader with bad skin and worse hair, someone brought a CD back from the United States that sent waves of (delayed) pop culture through our little boarding school. This was the Next Big Thing, what Regular Americans were listening to, and if we were going to be Cool, we had to be in love with

The New Kids On The Block

God help us all.

Boy bands had been around for a while, apparently (Menudo, anyone?), but NKOTB made them American as apple pie and pickup trucks with shotgun racks. The boys were so Cute. They were so Upbeat and Perky. More to the point for us, they were ICA*-approved, which meant that their lyrics would not offend the Powers That Be Were. That meant we were allowed to listen to the caterwauling music and dance er, bob our heads in appropriate restraint.

I didn't really get the music. But Everyone Loved NKotB, so therefore I loved NKOTB. And when the other girls asked me breathlessly which one was my favorite New Kid, I went with the most popular answer and said Joey...or was that Jordan? Crap, I don't remember any more. Because it was such an IMPORTANT decision, you know. The New Kid you liked best apparently said huge amounts about you.

I think some people may have gotten into fights over it, but mostly I just tried not to look too confused.

When NKOTB went out of style (thankfully quickly), I had hope that the days of boy band craze were of Yore. I should have known better.

In college, along came

The Backstreet Boys

who were then challenged by

'N Sync

and I believe people still debate who won that fight.

I am TOTALLY an 'N Sync girl, let me tell you. I mean, really. How could there be any competition there? Justin T., y'all!!!

Excuse me while I run to the restroom.

Whew. Sorry about that.

And if that weren't enough, along came the MMMMbopping Hansons

Aren't they nauseating adorable?

And lest we think that only the male half of the species offended, there were

The Spice Girls

I wish I could say that was all. But it wasn't.

What do I have against the Boy (and occasionally Girl) Bands?

Well. Where do I begin?

If you like meaningless and cheezy lyrics, derivative melodies, overchoreographed dance moves, an almost complete inability to write or actually PLAY music (and let's not even talk about originality here), and an overwhelming emphasis on merchandising and faux celebrity "news", then go for it. Boy Band it up. More power to ya.

Personally, I want to hurl.

And yet...there is something hypnotic about that pop-bubblegum, faux badass, overproduced stuff. It's kind of like Taco Bell or Cheetos. You know it's just so very bad for you, but once you start eating...you can't put it down.

Because while I may not have ever owned an album by one of these bands...

I did catch myself singing along to their songs.

And I kind of liked that one 'N Sync music video where they were marionettes.

And I did watch the Spice Girls movie.

 I may be going to Music Hell.

Um, so DraftQueen? Once you decide to forgive me for my musical sins, you want to send me some more mp3s? I'll be washing my brain out so it's clean enough to receive those luscious songs.

Oh, and you can thank Jason Mayo of Out-Numbered for the post topic. He apparently is a Backstreet Boys fanatic (seriously, all I can do is giggle) and has threatened to play Boy Band music through my window at night so it haunts my nightmares dreams.

I'd be a lot more scared if he knew where I live.

I'll never tell. I value my sanity too much.

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*International Christian Academy, the now-defunct boarding school where I went for 7-9 and 11-12th grades. They were quite conservative there. Quite.

We're Staring at the Headlights and There's No Hero Riding Into Sight

Oy.

Okay. There's another reason I haven't wanted to write much prose lately.

It's called Stress. Over my everlovin' fund-cuttin' teacher-bashin' student-screwin' state legislature's decisions to cut education funding again and again and again. Halfway through the school year, as is the idiotic illogical normal way things are done around here.

My district, a large district, will lose an estimated $14.5 million as of December 20, 2009.

My building alone will lose almost $600,000.

This is not projected money, money that would be spent Down The Road that simply cannot be spent now. This is money that (because of the way things are done in this state) was already figured into the budget for the year before the state said Oh, sorry, did we say you could have that? Never mind.

This is money that pays for the programs that educate our youth, for the teachers and support staff who make the programs happen, and the facilities in which the programs are run. This is money that is spent to cover costs in a district that has already been paring away at spending and programs and jobs in an effort to absorb all the budget cuts made over the last several years.

So we are in Crisis. Crisis-mode decisions have been made, and the devastating results are already in play.

Last Thursday, after we wasted our time sat through a professional development presentation, four close English teacher friends of mine and I headed to a nearby Coney to eat lunch. I snapped a picture of them, these four young 20-somethings who have become my colleagues, my buddies, my mentees, my confidantes, and sent the picture to Joe via text labelled My peeps. He texted back Hi peeps! And then he and one of my peeps teased each other through me.

The next day three of them were told they will be laid off as of January 25th.

The fourth one is the next on the chopping block. Reality says she will not have a job next year.

The reason? One of the many cuts being made at the semester's end is the position of high school media center specialist (i.e. librarian.) Our libraries media centers used to have one full time MC specialist, one full-time MC paraprofessional, and one full-time MC secretary. And they were Busy. Over the last several years, the media centers first lost the secretaries, then dropped the para-pros to half-time, then lost the para-pros entirely. Our beloved MC specialist is quite possibly the hardest working and most overworked woman in the building, and she saves our asses on a regular basis. I put her on a pedestal along with our IT woman and the administrative secretaries.

Now all four high school MC specialists have lost their positions. Each school will have one para-pro working in the MC half the day.

This will work well.*

As a result, those MC specialists (all of whom were once teachers and are certified) are being moved back into the classroom. Even the one who only taught for a couple of years and hasn't been in a classroom for twenty-five. They have the seniority, they have the certification, so they will go into the classroom and the low people on the totem pole are gone.

Thus, my peeps.

Don't get me wrong. I don't want the specialists to lose their jobs either and I believe (knowing the kind of people they are) that they will work their butts off to do well as teachers. That's not the issue.

What is an issue, besides my friends losing their jobs, is that all these cuts (and there are more than these, believe you me) will Not Be Enough. More are coming our way--if not during this year, certainly within the next couple. Our in-school custodians are losing their jobs as the district switches to a cheaper (and much less effective) outsourced company. Some secretarial positions are being cut, others put to half-time. Bussing may have to be cut. Elective and Fine Arts programs may disappear. Sports programs may even be cut--freshman and junior varsity teams are already on the list of possibilities.

Class sizes will very likely rise (we're already at 35). The middle school program may be changed drastically, leaving about fifty teachers either laid off or transferred to high school, which means lay-offs there. Our contract is up for negotiation this summer, and I have every expectation that we will be forced to take dramatic salary cuts and benefit changes/losses. More people will lose jobs. MAYBE even some administrators (and believe me, that's a true sign of a crisis).

I understand, to a certain extent, why this is happening. Michigan is in crisis too. The state does not have money and is cutting all sorts of programs. Education is not alone. Police and fire departments are being drastically slashed. Other programs are being cut entirely or severely underfunded.

And I know that not just state employees are suffering. Almost all of Michigan is suffering. I know many people who have been laid off and cannot find jobs. Believe me, I'm grateful that I have one.

In fact, yesterday I found myself counting up the number of English teachers in the district who stand between me and a layoff. It may be human nature, but I recoiled at my cold-blooded approach to reality: how many bodies (so to speak) must fall before I do? And how bad would things be that I, who have approximately 14 people buffering me from unemployment, would be on the chopping block?

The reality is grim. It has been for some time, but now I'm catching a glimpse of the Reaper in my peripheral vision.

However, I have to wonder: at what long-term price are we making these short-term decisions? How will overcrowded classrooms, lack of bussing, lack of enrichment and Fine Arts and sports programs, and (yes, I'm going there) underpaid and overstressed teachers create an educational environment that will draw crucial people and funds to this state? What are we sacrificing for the present crisis that will contribute to the long-term one? The experts waffle on when we will start emerging from this recession, but I can say this: unless positive decisions are made rather than negative ones, that journey will be a very long one. And at this rate, I believe we may drop down into a full depression rather than the "milder" recession sooner rather than later.

In the meantime, I'm glad the legislators are able to sleep at night.* Apparently they're so relaxed about the oncoming train of the December budget cuts that today they declared a hiatus from sessions and decided to take a two-week vacation.

Unfortunately, they left a lot of people stranded on the tracks.


*In case you can't tell, this is being said with Deep Deep Sarcasm.

Look, Ma! No Heels!

Today has been Crazy and I'm not going to go into all the reasons why because it mainly involves Other People doing and not doing things they shouldn't or should, as the case may be, and I don't feel like outing them here because they're not my students (who are almost always fair game) and at least one of them is no longer mentioned on this blog and the other would get hurt feelings and I'm trying not to be bitchy.

With only a small measure of success, but hey! You take your victories where you can get them.

With luck, I will be able to somehow both completely rearrange my plans for the day and still fit in what I need to do, including go to the doctor and get the boys' hair cut.  We'll see. I can hold off on the hair until tomorrow if I really must.

So in the spirit of Focusing on the Positive, here are my gorgeous new boots with the (faux) fur:

You're welcome. You may now return to your regularly scheduled lives. I'll be over here trying not to resent you for it.

Just Watch Them Come After Me Too: Mocking Mattel

Oh. My. Word.

My post this morning is brought to you courtesy of Barbie (TM), already queen of plastic and now apparently queen of hypocrisy. You've heard me rant mildly before about Barbie and the warped view of the female form she perpetuates, but this is about something else.

For those of you around and paying attention to mainstream music back in the mid-90s, you may remember the song "Barbie Girl" by Aqua that came out in 1997. And perhaps you remember the tantrum that Mattel threw about the song, saying that it was an unauthorized use of the product name for commercial use and that it portrayed women as sex objects (HA! Because Mattel never has been guilty of that). In fact, Mattel won the suit, which is why you  no longer hear that song played.

Well, that and because it's the kind of bubblegum pop song that doesn't last long on the airwaves as it is.

Anywho, this morning as I was hoping in vain for Nick (the kid's channel, not a person) to stop playing commercials and actually show "Max and Ruby" for The Widget's delight, I witnessed a commercial for Barbie that had my jaw dropping faster than Barbie's boobs would if she looked her age.

(She's 50, y'all. There's a reason we call boob jobs "plastic surgery." And I think I mentioned she's the queen of plastic.)

The commercial showed a teenish Barbie (who are they kidding?!?!) skating along to a tune that sounded AMAZINGLY like "Barbie Girl," with some slight tweaks to the lyrics. And without the male backups.

I did a quick search just to make sure I wasn't mistaken, and look: it's true! (You can even see the commercial over there--check it out and compare to the YouTube link of "Barbie Girl" above!)

Why am I writing this post? I'm not really sure, other than this is simple confirmation of what I've suspected about Mattel all along: they'll do and say anything as long as they think it will make them a buck. They've been quick to sue over perceived slights to the Barbie image, and just as quick to use the same slights to their advantage. Goodness knows they make sure we can't avoid their product in every store and on every remotely kiddish channel.

God forbid we don't fill our little girls' worlds with Pepto-Barbie fuschia.

I had other ideas for posts today, and maybe I still will, but I had to address this burning issue while it was hot pink.

You're welcome.

You'd Think I Actually Expect Them to LEARN Something, for Pete's Sake

I am, apparently, a Very Mean and Unreasonable teacher.

You see, I am showing my sophomore honors classes the film Good Night and Good Luck in an effort to connect the Salem witch trials as portrayed through Arthur Miller's The Crucible to the Red Scare and McCarthyism of the fifties.

Oh, you're showing them a movie, you say, surprised that I'm being so wimpy. And how does this make you a Mean Teacher in any way, shape, or form?

Ah, but there's a catch. You see, I am MAKING THEM TAKE NOTES. And THE MOVIE IS IN BLACK AND WHITE. WITH NO CAR CHASES OR HAND-TO-HAND BATTLES. Or sex scenes, even.

I know. The horror.

I also keep pausing the film to ask questions and add commentary. Did you notice what they called the law enacted during that time? I ask them. That's right, the Internal Security Act. A law that was supposed to protect us from communist infiltration and just happened to stomp all over civil liberties while doing so. Does that remind you of anything? No? Really? Thank you! Yes, the Patriot Act. And do you notice the use of euphemisms there? "Internal Security." "Patriot." So what does that mean if you happen to disagree with any elements of the Patriot Act? Right. You must not be a patriot. Isn't that great?

I'm very subtle with my opinions.

Anyhow, you should have heard the groans when I told them the kind of movie they would be viewing, not to mention what they would be doing while watching it. You would have thought I was threatening them with waterboarding or something.

Hey, maybe that's what our government should do. Instead of torturing employing "enhanced coercive interrogation techniques" on all those suspected terrorists, they should just sit the suspects in front of non-stop black and white movies composed mainly of dialogue and character development and FORCE THEM TO TAKE NOTES.

I'm very much looking forward to hearing my students' reactions when I tell them about the paper they're going to be writing.

Next thing you know, I'll be brought up on charges of violating the Geneva Convention.

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To keep my darling friend Lauren happy (which apparently involves hating me for my fabulous foot fashion), I'm gracing you with a gratuitous shot of my footwear today.

You're welcome.

Putting On The Glitz

Been wondering where to go for that birthday party your little munchkin has looming on the horizon? Want something that offers a full range of services including cake, beverages, kid-friendly location, and entertainment? Trying to raise a child who believes that either the Disney princess or the youthful Paris Hilton look is the greatest aspiration a little girl can have?

Then why not try your local kids' hair salon?

Yes, indeed! What better place to entertain a group of estrogen-laced little kidlettes than a salon that will tart them up in hairspray and butterfly barrettes, cheap glam outfits, glittery makeup, and plastic high heels? And then have them parade down their very own grabbed-from-the-remnant-rack red carpet to the applause and camera flashes of their mamarazzi? Or will let them learn their very own makeup- and mousse-application techniques on a creepy head-on-two-legs doll that they can take home for their future style rehearsals?

That's Snip-Its, "The Most Amazing Kid's Haircut Franchise" known to--um, me! You can choose from the Glamour Party, specially crafted for those pageant mom wannabees; the Hollywood Party, where your little darlings can prepare to be the future Paris Hiltons of Hollywood "celebrity"; or the Style-A-Doll Party, where the dolly creep factor is unbound!

Come--join in the effort to brainwash an entire generation of girls into thinking anything that glitters is, in fact, gold!

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When we were looking for a new place to get the boyo's hair cut, now that our beloved Carnival Cuts is defunct, ComputerDaddy spotted Snip-Its near his workplace. Desperate to keep the kidlets from turning into woolly mammoths before our very eyes, we decided to give it a try. (I should note that our previous attempts at home haircuts have been, shall we say, disastrous? I'd rather not have our children be mocked and stoned on the playground, thank you very much.) We checked it out online first, and I was rather surprised to see that they offered birthday events. I don't see how that's possible, opined ComputerDaddy. It's such a little place, tucked between Trader Joe's and another store, that must just be something that happens at other locations.

Despite my inner ick at what I had seen online, I was desperate enough to give the place a whirl. I mean, it's just a kid's salon, right?

Ha. We walked in just in time to witness the grand finale of what I THINK was a Glamour Party. Since they weren't slutted out a la Paris, as the website had shown in their *ahem* "adorable" photos.

Hey, biotches! aren't I HAWT? See ya on Surreal Life!

A gaggle of six six-or-seven-year-old girls in multiple layers of garish clothing, wilting fairy wings, glittery wands, plastic high heels in various shades of pink and purple, and glitter plastered all over their faces and hair was milling about uncertainly at one end of a cheap red runner. A store employee was explaining to them what they were supposed to do. A handful of parents gathered, cameras in hand, at the other end of the carpet. One by one the girls stomped down the runner and stood for a few seconds, then turned and lumbered back. A couple smiled brightly for the camera, one of whom I believe was the birthday girl. A couple looked confused. A couple looked downright sullen and embarrassed. The parents oohed and aahed and marvelled over what a brilliant idea this was. And for only $175?!?! Why couldn't they do something like this for adult birthday parties?!?!

(They do, chickas. They're called Spa Days. Not as cheap, though, and more likely to involve chocolate and mimosas. Much more satisfying, though, in my humble opinion. Unless you'd like karaoke, for that potential public humiliation factor.)

I struggled to keep the sneer off my face, peoples. I mean, girliness is great, and we all know I'm a shoe addict, and I enjoy earrings and makeup and dressing up and all, but in this day of rampant obsession over all things Barbie and Bratz Dolls and Miley Cirus and Britney Spears and Paris Hilton (I'm aiming for some major search-term pop ups here), it seems to me that we're sending a strong message to our little girls about what's important and just what it means to be a Girl these days. It's one thing to enjoy femininity--I'm not saying I don't ooh and aah over precious little dresses with ribbons and bows, or cute pigtails--but it's another entirely to take it to such a glitzy extreme. And then put it on such a display. I think the red carpet strut may have put the whole thing over the top for me, horror-wise.

People can talk all they want about Disney heroines and modern female celebrities being strong, independent women who choose their own paths, but the reality is that Jasmine and Pocahontas and all those chicks are NOT realistic representations of the female body or lifestyle, any more than Barbie or Bratz Dolls. Every time we see young female stars in the news, there's some emphasis (often exclusive) on what they are--or are not--wearing, how many extra ounces of fat they seem to have accumulated, and who they are dating/marrying/divorcing/sleeping with. How many of those celebrities went or are going to college? And if so, how many articles are covering that?

Being the parent of boys is not magically easy, and I believe I will be facing my own set of social issues--not least of which is the horrific Boys Will Be Boys fallacy and a massive double standard regarding male behavior. But right now, having witnessed that birthday party yesterday, I'm grateful I don't have a little girl to raise. I wouldn't be the one giving such a party (bring on Chuck E. Cheese or a day in the park!), but what would I say to my daughter if she was invited to such a thing?

Maybe I'm getting too heated up over a birthday party in a hair salon. And maybe I'm not getting heated up enough. What do you think?