I have to write. I just can’t shut up. This week one of my students mainstreamed for the first time. I was looking forward to sending him to P.E. with the general education students. In the afternoon I assigned one of my paraprofessional’s to take him to P.E. while I stayed in the classroom and finished some paperwork. When I could finally break free I slipped out of the room to check on them.
When I reached the field my student and para were jogging around the field with a hoard of 1st graders. My poor para was being a sport and keeping up with the first graders as they enthusiastically sprinted the ¼ mile. I was horrified and apologetic for putting her in a position where she had to run in 95 degree heat. Fortunately she forgave me.
Anyway, when the running was over the kids huddled up; waiting for instructions on what to do next. At this time I joined the group and tried to look teacher like and full of authority. Instantaneously I was surrounded by gaping 1st graders. One boy sheepishly spoke for the group. “You have really long legs … and … um … short arms”. I looked at him quizzically while I tried to interpret what it was he was actually trying to say.
“Oh! You mean my neck? I have really long legs and a short neck?” The entire group of 1st graders nodded and smiled in unison. I had successfully cracked the code. Inwardly I shriveled. I hated this topic. Visions of childhood abuse and disdain flooded through me and my knees sagged. By now the other teachers had joined the group and were all looking at me expectedly. I had to speak. Ironic. I had spent several days preparing an ability awareness lesson I planned on delivering to the first graders at the end of the month. The purpose of the lesson is to teach “different is good”. Well time to bite the bullet and practice what I preach.
“Well kids”. Little monsters. “My neck is so short because I have a disability”. Or I’m an alien. On my planet everyone has no neck and we eat small children instead of vegetables. They all looked at me horrified. I dropped to one knee and smiled warmly from the heat of the bile rising in my throat. “It’s ok. It doesn’t hurt. It just makes me different and different is good”. There was a tense pause as their little first grade minds processed this information. Then the hoard grinned and nodded. “Different is good” some of them repeated. “Each of us has a spine that runs up our back”. Mine is yellow. “The spine is made up of a lot of different bones. When I was born some of my bones were missing. So, now I have a short neck”. And it’s such a joy to be discussing this with you. I made eye contact with the other teachers who smiled sheepishly. I winked encouragingly at them. They smiled back and started gathering the kids together. As we all walked back class together my student was in the middle of pack, surrounded by his peers who considered him one of their own. I, on the other hand, was in the back of the line. A smaller group of 1st graders had attached themselves to me. Little hands grabbed my pockets, belt loops, legs, and hands. Apparently different was good enough. I am now their disabled friend.
In our district we have had a series of abduction attempts by two sleaze balls trying to lure young girls into their cars. The elementary schools are on high alert and the Principals are holding “Stranger Danger” talks in the cafeteria. Our class eats lunch in our classroom because the cafeteria is still to overwhelming for my kids. Our staff didn’t know anything about the talk. My paras were returning from breaks reporting that they were being accosted in the halls by young children pointing at them and yelling “Stranger Danger”. The paras have badges and will start wearing them soon. I do not yet have a badge, but oddly enough I am not being accosted. We have determined that I am being mistaken for a 5th grader.
This week blows.
Saturday, September 12, 2009
Foot to Mouth
It’s 3:00 a.m. I’m awake and considering how totally fracked I am. I can’t explain yet why I’m fracked; but oh are you going to enjoy the story once it can be told. When my paras find themselves in this position I usually tell them we need to have a “Come to Jesus” moment. Well, mine is here, and VSC can’t stop giggling. Wish me luck. The wait will be well worth it. For all of you who have fallen victim to my late time ramblings; well your vindication is coming soon. Thank god for the trip to Monterey tomorrow (well now it’s today). I’ll have plenty of driving time to consider what a bad girl I’ve been.
Saturday, September 5, 2009
Nothing Here ... Move Along
Literally. Cleaning up messes. I'll post again later.
"Satire is traditionally the weapon of the powerless against the powerful. One kind makes us chuckle about our foibles and our shared humanity--like what Garrison Keillor does. The other kind holds people up to public contempt and ridicule--that's what I do."(Molly Ivins)
"Satire is traditionally the weapon of the powerless against the powerful. One kind makes us chuckle about our foibles and our shared humanity--like what Garrison Keillor does. The other kind holds people up to public contempt and ridicule--that's what I do."(Molly Ivins)
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
My New Hippie Hats
A few days ago I was driving in Berkeley and noticed how many hippies were wearing bandannas on their heads (look, I finally changed the spelling from hippi). Suddenly I had a strong, consuming desire to own a bandanna. So after work today I drove to Any Mountain and bought two bandannas, one red and one blue. Once home I realized I had never actually worn a bandanna on my head (or for that matter any other part of my body). So, I had to go on-line and look up instructions on how to properly tie a bandanna. Thank god for the internet. After about 6 tries, I finally found a look that suited me. When wearing my bandana I prefer to squint and pretend that I am a pirate as opposed to a dirty footed hippie. My one hoop earring helps to solidify my new persona.
Our T.V. died today. I’ll add it to the list of one more thing to go wrong in July 2009. It was a bit odd because I was watching Warehouse 13 when it happened. On the television screen a man was at the airport buying tickets. From behind him two men dressed in black trench coats, goggles, and black masks enter the airport. The camera angle switches and now the audience is watching the two men through a security camera which is a grainy, black and white video feed. The men reach down and pull back their trench coats to reveal bomb-like apparatus attached to their chests. A green ball forms between them, in the middle of the T.V. screen, then suddenly the screen goes black. As though the image “fell” or was sucked in to the middle of the green ball. Frantic voices can be heard in the background. I sit for a few minutes staring at blackness before I realize, “well son-of-a-b*tch. The T.V. just died”.
When your T.V. dies a little part of your soul will give its own momentary death rattle. It sounds something like, “Grrrp … k-k-k-k- … rrrrr …pop”. I tried to think positive thoughts like “oh well I can just read” or “maybe I should wash the dog” or “wow, now I have time work on the book” or “I should practice Form Stance for karate”. Instead I ran to my laptop and watched a video feed of “Glee” coming out in September but available now on the web. I suck. I super suck. My suckage is so large and so vast that I am a little green ball in the universe swallowing up tiny video images around me. I should be cleaning my Glock. I should be collecting fresh lettuce from my eco-bin. I should be squeezing fresh grape fruits for my shower tonight.
Oh, which brings me to another thought. Today a paraprofessional offered me fresh fruit from her garden (no this isn’t some bizarre sexual innuendo). I’ve never actually accepted fruit from anyone’s garden before. It made me feel very organically minded and stuff. I wish I had fruit to offer from my garden. Proclamation #5: I will plant seeds. I will watch them grow. I will offer strangers fruit from my garden!! Yes!! I will wear my hippie bandana, kneel in dirt and plant organic lemon seeds! I will fertilize my sees with re-appropriated dog poo (probably not) and fight damage causing insects with vinegar! Next time when I am watching T.V. and it dies I will have sense not to sit in front of a dark screen for two minutes before realizing this sudden darkness was not part of the plot.
Our T.V. died today. I’ll add it to the list of one more thing to go wrong in July 2009. It was a bit odd because I was watching Warehouse 13 when it happened. On the television screen a man was at the airport buying tickets. From behind him two men dressed in black trench coats, goggles, and black masks enter the airport. The camera angle switches and now the audience is watching the two men through a security camera which is a grainy, black and white video feed. The men reach down and pull back their trench coats to reveal bomb-like apparatus attached to their chests. A green ball forms between them, in the middle of the T.V. screen, then suddenly the screen goes black. As though the image “fell” or was sucked in to the middle of the green ball. Frantic voices can be heard in the background. I sit for a few minutes staring at blackness before I realize, “well son-of-a-b*tch. The T.V. just died”.
When your T.V. dies a little part of your soul will give its own momentary death rattle. It sounds something like, “Grrrp … k-k-k-k- … rrrrr …pop”. I tried to think positive thoughts like “oh well I can just read” or “maybe I should wash the dog” or “wow, now I have time work on the book” or “I should practice Form Stance for karate”. Instead I ran to my laptop and watched a video feed of “Glee” coming out in September but available now on the web. I suck. I super suck. My suckage is so large and so vast that I am a little green ball in the universe swallowing up tiny video images around me. I should be cleaning my Glock. I should be collecting fresh lettuce from my eco-bin. I should be squeezing fresh grape fruits for my shower tonight.
Oh, which brings me to another thought. Today a paraprofessional offered me fresh fruit from her garden (no this isn’t some bizarre sexual innuendo). I’ve never actually accepted fruit from anyone’s garden before. It made me feel very organically minded and stuff. I wish I had fruit to offer from my garden. Proclamation #5: I will plant seeds. I will watch them grow. I will offer strangers fruit from my garden!! Yes!! I will wear my hippie bandana, kneel in dirt and plant organic lemon seeds! I will fertilize my sees with re-appropriated dog poo (probably not) and fight damage causing insects with vinegar! Next time when I am watching T.V. and it dies I will have sense not to sit in front of a dark screen for two minutes before realizing this sudden darkness was not part of the plot.
Monday, July 13, 2009
Soap Nuts
About two weeks ago we started using the Lullwater Soap Nuts regularly. This is an eco-friendly laundry detergent, 100% natural and biodegradable. My bag cost me about $23, and should do about 330 loads (according to the label on the bag). 150 fluid ounces of double concentrate liquid Tide only washes up to 96 loads. Another bonus is that fabric softener is not needed. Financially this is a pretty good deal.
Prior to washing you take 2 – 3 nuts and throw them in to a little bag (provided by Lullwater). If used in the same day, this bag o’ nuts will wash three loads of laundry. In your hand they smell very vinegary. Many of the nuts in the bag have broken apart, so it’s hard to determine what constitutes a true nut. I just guess. Another irritating issue is that the Soap Nuts come in a nice canvas bag with red writing. Unfortunately, the red writing sloughs off easily so you find yourself kind of guessing what the actual instructions might say.
Once the clothes are washed they feel kinda soft and smell kinda clean. By “kinda” I mean they don’t feel or smell dirty. They just feel and smell like clothes. Which is weird. However, I would definitely recommend Soap Nuts to any of you hippies out there. As an added bonus if you use a Laundromat, as opposed to having a washer and dryer in your home, I HIGHLY recommend this solution. No more carrying heavy containers of laundry soap and softener up and down stairs or across long distances. Just grab 3 nuts, tie them up in a bag, and you are ready to go.
Prior to washing you take 2 – 3 nuts and throw them in to a little bag (provided by Lullwater). If used in the same day, this bag o’ nuts will wash three loads of laundry. In your hand they smell very vinegary. Many of the nuts in the bag have broken apart, so it’s hard to determine what constitutes a true nut. I just guess. Another irritating issue is that the Soap Nuts come in a nice canvas bag with red writing. Unfortunately, the red writing sloughs off easily so you find yourself kind of guessing what the actual instructions might say.
Once the clothes are washed they feel kinda soft and smell kinda clean. By “kinda” I mean they don’t feel or smell dirty. They just feel and smell like clothes. Which is weird. However, I would definitely recommend Soap Nuts to any of you hippies out there. As an added bonus if you use a Laundromat, as opposed to having a washer and dryer in your home, I HIGHLY recommend this solution. No more carrying heavy containers of laundry soap and softener up and down stairs or across long distances. Just grab 3 nuts, tie them up in a bag, and you are ready to go.
Monday, July 6, 2009
Toilet Paper Post
Did you know that only 2% of toilet paper used by Americans is Recycled toilet paper? We have officially made the switch, and are now only using 100% recycled toilet paper. For the record; yes it is scratchy; yes it seems like a roll lasts ½ as long; and yes I’d rather be using Charmin. I’m actually tempted to stash away some Charmin under the bed in case of stomach flu. The recycled stuff just isn’t going to cut it in the case of a true bathroom “emergency”. Actually, now that I think about it, the car and house disaster kits are populated with Charmin. Lucky us!
So, if you are planning on visiting our house consider yourself warned. You may want to bring your own T.P. to the party. It could be worse. A few months back we were told a story about a couple visiting some friends for the day. The only method of wiping offered to them by their hosts included rags and a waste bin.
The guy on the radio today was actually trying to encourage American’s to consider using a bidet instead of Charmin. Are you kidding me? True, I’ve never used a bidet before, so I have no good reason for abhorring the idea. But, I do. If for some reason you are high and interested in purchasing a bidet for your bathroom, they actually make them now so that they attach right to the toilet you are already using. Weeeeee! More information can be found at http://www.biobidet.com/. I love the name, “BioBidet”. Snicker.
In the case of true Armageddon you will eventually run out of toilet paper. No toilet paper? No problem. Cool things you can wipe your butt with are (as suggested by Cody Lundin):
Rocks. Rocks come in different sizes and textures. You can find a shape and size to fit every orifice.
Sticks. Be careful of sharp broken ends.
Grass. Long grass can be folded up on itself to create a soft, fresh smelling alternative.
Leaves. Use several at a time, overlapped, or your fingers will bust through.
Snow. An invigorating experience that wipes and cleans at the same time.
Tree Branches and shrubs. You will quickly learn that some are “directional”. First rub the branch across your wrist to check for comfort.
Rags.
Newspaper. Crumple it up a few times beforehand and the paper will become softer and more absorbent.
Magazines. This paper can be somewhat slippery and oily feeling. So, like newspaper, crumpling up the pages can improve wiping ability.
In “When All Hell Freezes Over”, Cody also includes a page of “Hardcore Hints” for folks interested in wiping their ass with their hand. Maybe some other time …
So, if you are planning on visiting our house consider yourself warned. You may want to bring your own T.P. to the party. It could be worse. A few months back we were told a story about a couple visiting some friends for the day. The only method of wiping offered to them by their hosts included rags and a waste bin.
The guy on the radio today was actually trying to encourage American’s to consider using a bidet instead of Charmin. Are you kidding me? True, I’ve never used a bidet before, so I have no good reason for abhorring the idea. But, I do. If for some reason you are high and interested in purchasing a bidet for your bathroom, they actually make them now so that they attach right to the toilet you are already using. Weeeeee! More information can be found at http://www.biobidet.com/. I love the name, “BioBidet”. Snicker.
In the case of true Armageddon you will eventually run out of toilet paper. No toilet paper? No problem. Cool things you can wipe your butt with are (as suggested by Cody Lundin):
Rocks. Rocks come in different sizes and textures. You can find a shape and size to fit every orifice.
Sticks. Be careful of sharp broken ends.
Grass. Long grass can be folded up on itself to create a soft, fresh smelling alternative.
Leaves. Use several at a time, overlapped, or your fingers will bust through.
Snow. An invigorating experience that wipes and cleans at the same time.
Tree Branches and shrubs. You will quickly learn that some are “directional”. First rub the branch across your wrist to check for comfort.
Rags.
Newspaper. Crumple it up a few times beforehand and the paper will become softer and more absorbent.
Magazines. This paper can be somewhat slippery and oily feeling. So, like newspaper, crumpling up the pages can improve wiping ability.
In “When All Hell Freezes Over”, Cody also includes a page of “Hardcore Hints” for folks interested in wiping their ass with their hand. Maybe some other time …
Sunday, July 5, 2009
Foot Tonic Fail
Many years ago when I was assembling my first Disaster Kit I came across the recommendation that one should always keep comfortable shoes in the car in case of an emergency. The point being that crawling through mounds of debris in Teva sandals might be a bad, not to mention potentially crippling, endeavor. Fortunately I own multiple pairs of shoes and it was very easy for me to throw a pair of rarely worn sneakers into my emergency backpack.
Today I was again reminded of the need for good, conscientious, foot care. On Saturday morning I went to my Zombie fighting class. For two hours we ran around barefoot on a hard wooden floor and now my feet are killing me. I continue to hobble around the house more than 24 hours later. Honestly, I’m not sure why we have to be barefoot. I truly believe it would be far more useful to practice kicking ass in Doc Martin’s or at very least steel toed hiking boots. But I digress. I have accepted the fact that not only will I re-learn the fine art of spinning back kicks, but I will also learn to be humble and do as I’m told, regardless of how ridiculous it might seem. I am a leaf on the river …. I am a leaf on the river … I am a leaf on the river ….
For sore foot relief it seemed appropriate to consult, “Clean Body: The Humble Art of Zen-Cleansing Yourself”. The suggested foot tonic was:
Ankle Deep Warm / Hot Water
½ cup Vinegar
2 tablespoons salt
After soaking my feet for about 10 minutes I became terribly bored. My feet smelled like Vinegar soaked Long John Silver’s fish and chips, and my Cha-Ching-Cherry nail polish began to fade. The results were less than stunning. My feet still hurt and now they have the added bonus of being stinky. Foot Tonic Fail.
Today I was again reminded of the need for good, conscientious, foot care. On Saturday morning I went to my Zombie fighting class. For two hours we ran around barefoot on a hard wooden floor and now my feet are killing me. I continue to hobble around the house more than 24 hours later. Honestly, I’m not sure why we have to be barefoot. I truly believe it would be far more useful to practice kicking ass in Doc Martin’s or at very least steel toed hiking boots. But I digress. I have accepted the fact that not only will I re-learn the fine art of spinning back kicks, but I will also learn to be humble and do as I’m told, regardless of how ridiculous it might seem. I am a leaf on the river …. I am a leaf on the river … I am a leaf on the river ….
For sore foot relief it seemed appropriate to consult, “Clean Body: The Humble Art of Zen-Cleansing Yourself”. The suggested foot tonic was:
Ankle Deep Warm / Hot Water
½ cup Vinegar
2 tablespoons salt
After soaking my feet for about 10 minutes I became terribly bored. My feet smelled like Vinegar soaked Long John Silver’s fish and chips, and my Cha-Ching-Cherry nail polish began to fade. The results were less than stunning. My feet still hurt and now they have the added bonus of being stinky. Foot Tonic Fail.
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