The Great Purge of 2008

Apologies for not posting for two thirds of the month of December. Despite not having anything to do after school officially, I still found myself there until 6 or 7 at least two nights a week. Hopefully I will learn to say 'No' very very soon, lest I become permanent fixture in the PAC and set up a cot in the prop room.

Anyway, a much needed Christmas vacation is finally upon us, and I am spending this, the first official day thereof, cleaning my room. It has been in dire need of a normal cleaning for several weeks, considering the amount of dirty clothes, random papers, and shoes scattered across the floor and my desk. However, I've also decided that this is the perfect time for a purge of things that I saved due to 'sentimental value' that no longer have any sentimental value. It's surprising how the mind/heart/teenage-girl-inside-all-of-us forgets the things that seemed so important at the time. So far I've thrown out some pictures of Leonardo DiCaprio a friend gave me out of her Bop Magazine in 7th grade (I shudder to thing that I ever wanted such a thing), an entire years worth of 'The Torch' (my alma mater's student newspaper), my acceptance letter to UCF (why did I keep that?), and financial aid information from FSU (I doubt that had any sentimental value to begin with). Along the way I've been sidetracked and succumbed to the desire to crack open my senior year book, look fondly upon my glory days, and cringe at the fact that I hadn't fixed my hair before they took my senior picture.

On another note, my New Years resolution last year was to post 75 times. It doesn't look like I'm going to make it without a concerted effort at daily self expression for the next ten days. Any suggestions on what to write about?

A Memory of Christmas Past

Christmas is by far my favorite time of the year. I get to wear sweaters, everyone tries to be a little nicer to each other, and I get two weeks off of work. I love singing Christmas carols, and seeing the pretty lights in my neighborhood.

I always looked forward to coming home for Christmas more than any other time of year. It was like driving into a neighborhood that was a little bit cheerier than the last time I saw it, transformed over Thanksgiving weekend. I would usually get home in the early evening and be welcomed by the familiar spreads on the neighbors lawns, then finally by the lights Mom had put on the bushes and in that spikey palm tree out front.

There was one year, 2004, when all of the hurricanes went through Orlando that Mom hadn't decorated when I got home from college. There were no lights on the bushes, our stockings hadn't been hung on the banister. Life got in the way of decorating for Christmas. I spent the first week of that break repainting the dining room and kitchen, and then we decorated. Everything was put up only a few days before Christmas. We contemplated just putting up a few things, but I couldn't stand the thought of having just the tree in the dining room with no little Christmas Village houses and no snowflakes hanging from the loft to keep it company. It was almost as though Christmas couldn't happen unless the house was ready for it.

This year the house has been decorated for a few weeks already. Mom demonstrated a Christmas tea, so she put everything up a little early. This weekend, though, marked one of the first times that we plugged the lights in. Christmas just arrived!

The Christmas Wish List 2008

The house on the next block has officially turned on enough Christmas lights to rival the Griswold's of National Lampoon's fame which means: it's time to publish the annual Christmas Wish List!

• a calendar (retro art nouveau or art deco poster reproductions or non-Ansel Adams black and white photography)
• a new watch (I'm pretty sure this one is already spoken for...)
  
• a new wallet
• The Tales of Beedle the Bard by J.K. Rowling
• Photoshop
• Leatherman Serac S3 Flashlight (because I work in a dark theatre. Also, I like toys.)
  

On Giraffes

I was wandering around on the internet, following some rabbit trail because there was nothing else to do, when I stumbled upon a photograph of giraffes. This brought to memory a conversation I had with a student concerning the theory that giraffes don't actually exist. That's right, they don't exist. This student, who will of course remain nameless, also believes the 9/11 attacks were planned and carried out by agents of the United States government, but I digress. The idea is that they were actually created by someone to fool people, for what purpose and to what end I do not know. "Why would they need such a neck," he/she asks, "and have you ever actually seen one?" "No," I say, "but I've seen pictures." "Ah, but pictures can be altered, so you've never actually seen one." "No," I say," but I know people that have seen them." "They must be in on the plot." The conversation goes on and on until I finally end it with, "Any former respect I had for your intelligence has evaporated under the hot African sun beneath which the noble giraffe roams." Okay, so I didn't say that, but wouldn't it have been funny if I did? I'm sure I said something snarky and condescending, just not quite as intellectual sounding.

The conversation reminded me of my first week of ToK in high school. Is there a dragon in the box? How do you know? From whom did you hear it? Do you trust that source? I wonder if the modern high school (or even some college) student asks themselves these questions when studying or researching. Anyway, I don't know how I got on this topic. School/work and education are not all that I think about. Really, it's not.

On a completely different note (sarcasm), I heard a joke about how teachers can't go for 24 hours without talking about their students. I'm convinced that it's true.

Odd Couple from the Other Side

Odd Couple is now over! I'm extremely proud of my students, and I'm especially happy that I actually got to sit and enjoy the show this year (for the most part), which means I'm nearly to the point where they can run it themselves, without having to consult me at every turn.

Of all the nights, I'd have to say that Thursday and Friday were the best, mostly because the crowd was the most responsive those nights. I was worried at the beginning of the week that they wouldn't be able to pull it off, but on Thursday it all seemed to come together, and they gave sterling performances.

The cast for the Sunday performance experienced one of the things that makes live theatre unique from other dramatic forms: audience responsiveness, or in this case, the lack thereof. When I stepped on stage for the introduction, I felt the lack of energy and excitement in the crowd. The audience hardly laughed for the entire first act, even with the other cast and myself doing our best to seed the laughter. Despite this, the cast persevered and the audience loosened up a little bit in the second act.

All in all, I think the show was a success, but I'm glad that it's over. I spent this entire last week coming home early, well, at the same time as everyone else, and sleeping.

Simple Pleasures

Show week has finally arrived, or more accurately, leapt on me, but instead of focusing on how tired and stressed out I am, I'm sharing a list of little things that made me happy today:

My 2nd Period Drama I class.

The sound masking tape makes when I pull it off the roll really fast.

The smell of freshly cut grass.

The feeling of wind rushing across my shoulders when I stick my elbow out the window on a cool evening.

The song, "En La Muelle de San Blas" ("On the Pier of San Blas").

How my feet feel after I finally sit down after a long day.

The vibrations of the gear shift beneath my hand.

2:15 run time with a 20 minute intermission.

When my cat nuzzles my cheek with his forehead.

Show Week

Pardon the retroactive post publishing. I don't know why I didn't publish this when I wrote it. Maybe I felt it was too short.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Show week is here. This is the first time that I feel almost ready. Last year, we were still trying to get off book the Monday before the show. But right now, I think well be okay, despite having some hick-ups along the way. We were supposed to have new lavaliere mics, but the order got bogged down in purchasing, so we will most likely not get them in time for the shows. I'm frustrated to say the least. We will get through it. The cast just needs to learn to project. A lot.

We will be ready, whether we're ready or not.

Making the Magic: Flying Plate of Spaghetti

In theatre, we have to do things that would never ever happen in real life, like throwing a plate of spaghetti...sorry, linguini, at a wall four nights in a row (plus rehearsal). The problem is that spaghetti, when thrown, goes everywhere. The noodles don't stay on the plate, and the poor techie on the other end of the flying sauce-er (bad joke, I know) gets a large mess to clean. Compounding the problem is the need for one of the actresses to take a bite of the soon to be flying spaghetti.

The solution to the problem: Elmer's School Glue and tape. You cook the spaghetti first, then put it on a plate, toss with glue and nuke the heck out of it. The resulting pasta is rubbery and sticks together, and most importantly, can be taped to the plate. Spread a little bit of fresh (i.e. not glued and rubbery) spaghetti on top of the glued spaghetti (hurray for non-toxic glue) for the actor to play with, add a little red sauce, and no one is the wiser.

The picture to the right is the spaghetti post nuking, before the extra glue dried. The white stuff is glue. Yum!

The Odd Couple

Here's the info on the bottom if you don't want to click on the image and read it in the pretty font:

The Odd Couple (Female Version) by Neil Simon
Colonial High School Performing Arts Center
November 13, 14 & 15 @ 7:00PM
November 16 @ 2:30PM
House opens 30 minutes before curtain
Tickets $5

Be there! Or just give me $5 bucks!

Oh, and 6 posts in October! Whohoo!

Pet Peeves

I didn't think I had pet peeves. Sure, there were things that bugged me a little bit, but nothing that drove me really insane. Then I became a teacher. I now have several. The most prevalent is the mispronunciation of words/use of words that don't exist.

Here are the top three, with plenty of snark on the side:
Anyways. It's not a word (okay, maybe it was in the 13th Century, but it's not standard today). But somewhere along the line, teenagers must have decided that since there are multiple 'ways' there must be multiple 'anyways,' which is, of course, not the case. Somehow, it wormed itself into even the smartest of students' vocabulary and frequently rears its ugly S-shaped head. I do my best to battle the unnecessary 'S' wherever I may find it. I am slightly ashamed to admit that I too have on occasion succumbed to its awful powers. But thankfully, the light of proper grammar always shines through, and I return to the singular 'anyway.'

Supposably. This, I'm guessing, comes from the lack of written word in teenagers' lives. They heard the word 'supposedly' but have never seen it written, so their brain didn't have anything to connect it to. I believe the term for a misheard word is mondegreen, but I could be wrong. Anyway, we now have supposably, a bane of my existence. And now, a short anecdote: I once was lecturing about Greek theatre history and used the word 'supposedly.' A hand shot up in the back row. Ah, I thought, an eager young mind! and nodded for the student to speak. I was simultaneously amused and appalled by what I heard. "Miss," the student said, "don't you mean 'supposably?'"

Ax. No, not the tool used to chop wood, the verb meaning 'to inquire of'. That's right, fair reader, medieval weaponry has been confused with the simple, harmless verb 'ask'. I'd heard this mispronunciation many times before I began teaching, but the frequency since has driven me to the edge of frustration, so much that I've even created a sign. It reads, "No! You may not AX me a question. You may, however, ASK me a question." One of my students read the sign yesterday, tilted his head to one side and said, "I don't get it." I hope that means he's never heard the wonderful word 'ask' slandered in this manner.

So, one year of teaching and I now have pet peeves. Oh, and I hate being called 'Miss'. I have name, thanks.

So-and-so Squabbling

Well, October is threatening to go by with only a few blog posts to its name, so I figured I'd better get cracking if I'm to meet my goal of 75 posts this year. At this point, methinks it is a lost cause, but I'll still try to get as close as possible.

I was posting quite a bit in September when I had a little more free time, but in the last couple of weeks free time seems to have been sucked out of my life and replaced with unavoidable sleep (falling asleep before I intend), and work. Always work.

As far as work goes, I've been inundated with stupid high school drama in the last few weeks. So-and-so 1 is mad at So-and-so 2 because So-and-so 3 was talking to So-and-so 1 about an ex who is a... you get the picture. Somehow, So-and-so thinks it's part of my job to sort out their stupid squabbles which are really all about their inability to stop talking about each other. So, So-and-so asks to speak to me before rehearsal one day and starts spilling the beans all over my bright and shiny day. I stop So-and-so mid story and ask, "Why, So-and-so, is this my problem? This seems like something you and So-and-so need to sort out between yourselves. And frankly, I refuse to be inserted into your juvenile bickering." Perhaps I shouldn't have called So-and-so juvenile because it then forced me to explain that I said nothing about prison and had simply called them immature. Anyway, that and a few other things have resulted in So-and-so being angry with me. There's also an issue about pizza...

I really want to just tell them, stop taking life so seriously. Have fun, let stuff go. You're in high school! RELAX!

One Year

Here's an excerpt from my personal journal from October 8th, the one year anniversary of my first day as a teacher.

"I felt that I should write something today because this day, October 8, marks the one year anniversary of my first day as a teacher. The only thing I can say is thank God I survived. There have been more than a few times in the last year in which I thought I would not make it (Christmas Carol show week, Districts, States...), so today, I breathe a sigh of relief and hope for a better year."

I ended up not actually writing much because the power was out, which incidentally is why I didn't write it here in the first place. So, a week later, I'll try to flesh it out a little bit.

I still don't feel like a teacher. When people they walk in, they come up to me and ask where the teacher is. But I have an advantage this year over last, my students knew I was the teacher from day one, rather than assumed I was jut another sub. This year, I'm not telling them that I'm only 23 years old, and that I only graduated from college a year and a half ago, and that some of them have siblings older than me. I am acting like I know what I'm talking about (which I generally do), and that I've been doing this for a while.

The biggest difference, though, is the distinct and wonderful absence of worry pangs. Last year I spent half of my time with a dull feeling in my stomach rooted in the fear that I had done something wrong, or that I'd missed something important. I imagine myself as a little puppy trying so incredibly hard to do everything everyone wanted of me, freaking out whenever I fell short. I've been more relaxed this year, and it certainly feels better.

One year...and counting.

Google 2001

If your favorite search engine hasn't reminded you yet, Google turns 10 years old this month. In celebration, they have put their oldest available archives, from 2001, up for the public to search and reminisce. Try typing in September 11. Apparently, their archive is from before that fateful day; nothing of consequence pops up. It was a different world back then. This article in the Washington Post does an excellent job of walking you down memory lane, pointing out things long forgotten, and some things which are all too familiar.

I Googled this very blog and was disappointed not to find it. Then I realized I didn't start writing it until October of 2002.

So, I searched the archives of my own memory and dug up a few personal highlights of 2001. Here's what I came up with:

- Last year on JV soccer, Jobie teaches me how to run
- Paul graduates high school
- Summer trip to West Virginia. Cold showers for a week. Good times.
- Bud dies
- Meet Amy, one of my best friends, after history class
- September 11th
- Do tech for "The Foreigner" until soccer starts, my first play at UHS
- I make Varsity soccer & split my head open on a teammate's chin in the second week of practice. The scar still hurts sometimes when its cold or rainy.
- "Scenes from a Tuesday in September"
- IB kicks it up a notch
- Pre-Calculus kicks my butt (Mrs. Parrish, round one)
- Klongerbo's class, find out that I LOVE English, I learn how to write a good essay
- TOK with Mr. Boyte, wonder if dragons can fit in tea boxes
- Driver's License...woot (still accident free and only 1 ticket!)

What do you remember from 2001?

An Orchestra of Shapes and Colors

I wonder if anyone imagined anything like this when Vivaldi wrote "The Four Seasons" (if you're wondering, no, I didn't recognize it exactly, but I suspected Vivaldi...). I remember standing in the yard as a child conducting an imaginary orchestra of moving shapes and colors, but never anything so elaborate.



Then I thought back to Advanced Shakespeare class and our study of Falstaff. He is thought of as one of Shakespeare's funniest characters, yet when a class of 21st century college students read his words, none of us found them particularly funny. Our professor went on to explain that we don't find Falstaff all that funny because he is making fun of a life which moves quickly from one thing to another. We modern Americans didn't understand the humor because our lives move so quickly that we hardly notice the speed. They had never seen, for example, a television show that jumped instantly from scene to scene, face to face. The point is, they couldn't imagine a reality where things move quickly from one thing to another, and we now live in that very reality.

So, with that in mind, I got to wondering whether children a hundred or two hundred years ago would have imagined my orchestra of shapes and colors. I live in a world where such things are possible, at least in digital format, and the idea of objects (other than birds) flying and floating through the air has been normal for nearly a century. Perhaps my mind took what it had observed and changed it into something a little more fanciful. Could a mind that never saw an airplane, or a shuttle launch, or fireworks, or pictures of satellites drifting through space imagine that same thing? Or would it be limited by what it had observed?

Thoughts on the Bail Out

It seems the whole world has been waiting with bated breath for the Congressional decision about the Wall Street bail-out. I too, despite my general disdain/lack of interest in politics (they're going to take my money no matter what party they're with), kept an eye on the iGoogle news feed. Since I know very little about the economy (I never had to take Economics), I'm not sure what to think about all of this. But here are some of the thoughts spinning around my head.

-If a CEO gets the job 17 days before the company goes under, he shouldn't get more than I make in 30 years. Just saying. Furthermore, why are CEO's still getting paid huge bucks when their patrons are finding themselves up the creek without a paddle?

-I'm generally a proponent of the government keeping its nose out of private business, but it seems like in this situation, the well being of certain private institutions translates into the well being of the American financial system. Perhaps doing something isn't such a bad idea after all. But every time I think about the whole CEO thing, it frosts me. Shouldn't there be some kind of condition in the bill that requires those billionaire CEO's to cough up a little dough? Can't the government hold them responsible for the failure of their companies? They hold everyone else responsible for bad driving by instituting fines, can't they do something similar for sucking at running a Fortune 500 Company? Instead of capping the salary, why not institute some kind of aid scale? For every yacht they sell, they get a million dollars from the government.

-Finally, I hate election years. Everyone is so bent on getting their man in office that they can't behave like adults. It's stupid.

The Boot Game

Every year, Colonial and University battle for a boot painted red and black on one side and blue and gold on the other. This game has come to be known as the Boot Game, and it is undoubtedly the one game out of every season that each team wants to win the most (except for maybe University vs. Timber Creek, but that's a newer rivalry). Six years ago, I stood on the east side of the stadium. This year, I stood on the west side looking towards the bleachers I had run up and down countless times in my high school career.

It was strange walking around to the far side of the field, greeting people in red and black. Even more strange were the cheers of, "Let's go, Colonial, let's go!" issuing from my mouth. I felt weird cheering against my Alma Mater, but at the same time, I couldn't possibly cheer against my students. After all, I don't really know anyone at UHS anymore.

I contemplated wearing my University Varsity jacket over a Colonial faculty shirt, but decided that the ribbing I would get from everyone wasn't worth it. Besides, it's September and therefore WAY too hot to wear a leather and woolen jacket.

Anyway, I walked over to the home side to watch the band. As I stood there, it struck me that I was looking, to borrow lyrics from Ragtime, "toward the future, from the past."

Out of Sorts

I'm feeling very out of sorts this morning. I know that there are a myriad of tasks I could, and probably should, be doing at this moment instead of writing a blog post, but somehow I can't really think of any. My brain doesn't seem to work. This has been the case nearly every day for the past week. I had a restful weekend, but here I am again on Monday wishing it was Friday all over again. Somehow, I haven't gotten out of the summer state of mind, and it's about to bite me in the butt.

Anyway, I guess I'll go try to get something done.

A Tad Bit of Whining

I have observed, much to my chagrin, that many teenagers can't think past the tiny quibbles in their lives and into into the realms of imagination. Two days of watching yelling matches under the guise of improv have turned me off to so many of my students. No matter how many times I tell them that it really isn't that interesting watching two ghetto-fied kids yell, I see the same scene over and over again. I chalk it up to watching too much MTV (which I'm convinced was created to destroy the cognitive capabilities of the America's youth) and seeing little to nothing creative.

I'm also quite a bit frustrated about how much whining there is about the 'G'- rating upon which I insist. "Miss," they say, "we're all teenagers here, we can handle it." To which I reply, "That's nice, but it's even nicer to not have to. Besides, you all grow up too fast anyway. And since you're in my class, you will act like you live in a Disney world where everything is rainbows and butterflies." There is always the kid trying to be smart that says, "But I saw this Disney movie one time..." to which I reply "If Mickey didn't say it, then neither will you." They don't understand that the dirty joke is taking the easy way out.

The worst of them all are, of course, the freshmen who seem to have a new found confidence now that they are out of middle school and have yet to be beaten down by the Seniors since the campuses are separate. Full of snide remarks, they love to point out the error in an analogy (don't analogies always have errors?) which leads me to believe that their sole purpose in life is to drive me insane.

My Week In Pictures (Sort Of)

Since I don't have much time to write anything substantive, I thought I'd attempt to follow through on my birthday resolution by taking more pictures and sharing them with the world. By the world I mean the handful of people that read this blog. Anyway, here you go.


I took this sitting at the traffic light getting off the toll road a few days ago. The moon has been charming the past few days, appearing larger than normal. This particular evening I was captivated by the sight of the setting sun in my rear view mirror and the rising moon in the sky above it. Since I was driving at the time and could therefore not look at the screen on my digital camera, I couldn't get the best shot. This is the best of the set.

We found this little guy hanging out in the back hallway in the PAC. I assumed at the time that he was fleeing the rain from Tropical Storm Fay. But in hindsight, I realized he's an amphibian, so that really wouldn't make any sense. Also, there wasn't any flooding at school. Maybe he just wanted to learn something about Drama.

I spotted this hot air balloon on the drive to work early last week. My initial reaction was, wow, that's a huge advertising balloon. Anyway, I can only assume the flight was sponsored by Leslie Pool Supply. If you look closely, you can actually see the guy standing in the basket.



I spent several hours on Sunday night finishing the floor plan for "The Odd Couple". Bard provided a welcome distraction from my line weights. After jumping on my lap and deigning to have his chin scratched, he crawled behind and then under my drafting board. I lifted the front side and snapped a few shots as he played with a whistle and an old hair tie until he grew tired of the entertainment and took his snobby self downstairs.


The last time I took a mailing tube to school it disappeared and I found it several days later in two battered pieces. So, in an attempt to not have my possessions destroyed, I taped a note onto this version. It reads: "This is a mailing tube designed to transport documents. It is not the plaything of teenage hoodlums. It is not to be used as an imaginary sword or projectile. Thank you."

Taken on the drive home. I just like the jiggly lights. They're pretty.

Death to Squishy

My friend gave me one of those squishy pillows for Christmas during my freshman year of college, and it has been on my bed ever since. I studied on that pillow, slept on it, drooled on it, took it on vacations with me. That is, until last week. I began noticing tiny beads in my bed. At first I thought it was just balled up cat hair, but soon the sheer number told me that they weren't the follicles of my feline friend. Upon closer examination, I found the culprit. A small hole at one end of the pillow, no doubt the work of that same feline whose fur initially threw me off the track of the tiny beads.

It is with sadness that I've removed the squishy pillow from my bed. I miss it dearly.

September Memories

Right around the time the fireflies quit blinking for the summer and the leaves began to change into their autumn attire, the apples in the small orchard on the hill were ready for picking. Early in September, the pastor's family would come out to the farm and help us pick apples. I'd spend the morning running around the base of the apple trees picking up the fallen fruit, then climbing around the baskets in the back of Dad's little black pickup truck.

Around lunch, when the truck was full and heavy, we'd drive back to the house wedged in between bushels of apples. We'd spend all afternoon cooking apples into lovely things: apple sauce, apple butter, apple pie. Us kids would take turns turning the crank and mashing the cooked apples into the machine. By the end of the day, everyone was tired and sweaty from being in a hot kitchen all afternoon, but we had fresh apple sauce and apple pie as a consolation.

A Birthday Resolution

I bought my own point-and-shoot camera right after Christmas last year and went through several weeks of taking pictures at every chance I got. But as the novelty of having a camera wore off, I quit wearing it on my belt, or throwing it in my pocket, now I seldom think of it. This summer I anticipated taking picture after picture as I went sight seeing around San Francisco and southern California, but being a Floridian, and even more, an Orlandonian, I have a distinct distaste for anything touristy. In my aversion to looking like a visitor, I didn't take many pictures at all. Sure, there was Alcatraz, and pictures of the Golden Gate Bridge from Paul's roof, but other than that the camera stayed in its cozy holder tucked away in the bottom of my purse.

I would like to change this. I find it surprising that I take so few pictures considering how visually oriented I am. It would seem that pictures would be an excellent way for me to document things, rather than writing them down. Somehow, I've never been comfortable taking pictures of things. It feels like an intrusion. Anyway, I'd like to take more pictures. Maybe one day I'll actually become good at it.

What Are You Afraid Of?

Ever since I was a little girl, I've had an overactive imagination. I used to hate going to the bathroom at night because there was a shadow in the back stairs which looked, to my childish eye, like the Egyptian god Anubis. Eventually I grew out of my fear of the shadow monsters, but I still find myself falling prey to the unseen terrors in my life. Sometimes it stops me from writing what I want to write on this blog (which isn't necessarily a bad thing, especially when it comes to work). Other times it just raises my blood pressure and begins hours of useless worry.

This evening, the end of a particularly bad day, I ask myself, "What are you afraid of?" And perhaps more importantly, why?

On the bright side, I passed my General Knowledge Exam. Whoo hoo.

Fact: Free Time Leads to Slacking

I've known since my high school days and especially the summers of watching the same movies over and over again (Mulan one year, The Emperor's New Groove another) that I don't get anything done if I'm not really busy. In a way, I'm glad that summer is over so that I can get back to being productive. In other ways, I'm sad to see the summer go. The Olympics ended today, and although it was getting a bit tiresome going to work exhausted from staying up too late watching some event, I will miss the pageantry and the weird sports (what's with syncro diving?). But the sports void will soon be filled with college football and the regular fare, so I'm sure I won't miss it too much.

More than the demise of anything else I associate with summer, its end means the beginning of school. Although I spend most of my vacation time feeling pretty useless, it's time that I'm not stressed out. This school year, if it's anything like last year, promises stress, short nights, long work days and mistake after mistake which I will have to fix. The most stressful thing is the ever present worry that one of my mistakes might get someone hurt or get me fired. That seems ridiculous, I know. I tell myself that every time it pops into my head. But it doesn't change the periodical reminders that teachers (especially young ones without tenure) are essentially at the mercy of their students in many ways. It doesn't help that I'm supposed to be teaching my students about things which are inherently dangerous, like power tools and fly systems.

Anyway, if you're wondering why I haven't been writing, blame it on summer.

Interesting (and unrelated) observation: I've been having a hard time writing in paragraphs lately. I spend so much time around drama and dialogue that I've started thinking in it. I can bang out a conversation about something pretty quickly, but paragraphs and narration are something of a trial. I'm pretty sure it's not a good thing.

The Most Wonderful Time of the Year

I love sports, so it goes without saying that the Olympic Games every four years (or two if we're counting the Winter Games) are a highlight of the year. I love everything about them. Growing up, I remember the lighting of the torch with a flaming arrow at Barcelona, and a shaking Muhammed Ali lighting the torch in Atlanta. I remember watching Kerri Strug make that famous vault to win the Gold Medal in the Gymnastics Team competition. I remember watching in horror as the Russians won gold over the Canadians in figure skating (okay, that's Winter Olympics, but who cares) in 2002. And I love watching the sports that you only get to watch every four years because of lack of interest in the States.

More than watching the sports, I like hearing about the people. The athletes worked incredibly hard to get to Beijing, and it's fun to celebrate with them when they succeed, and feel for them when they fall short.
Anyway, if you need me, I'll be in front of the TV, rooting for Team USA (that sounds so 90s for some reason).

The End of a Languid Summer

Well, it's August. The new school year begins in a couple of weeks. Although one week of freedom remains, I have accomplished very little this summer. There was plenty of sleeping, reading for fun, playing Nintendo, and absolutely no working. It is generally around this time of year, at the end of periods such as this that I begin to feel particularly worthless. I've been unable to motivate myself to actually get things done, save for a few days here and there. A handful of days of productivity in two full months of vacation.

I remember feeling this way at the end of the summer before my Senior year of high school. I'd put off all of my summer work until that last week and spent most of it researching, writing, translating and reading.

I've been so lazy this summer that I've hardly written anything, and have failed to meet my post quota again. Let's hope the school year gives me something to write about.

Here, in the spirit of self-loathing, is list of things I wanted to do this summer and didn't:

• Learn at least 2 new songs on the piano
  
• Read 6 plays (I read 4)
• Find a One Act to do at Districts
  
• Redo my room
• Loose 20 pounds (I've lost 10-ish. Okay, 8-ish)
• Design the Fall play (I've done one [bad] sketch)
• Write lesson plans for the first 2 semesters of school (ambitious, I know)
• Make something
• Grow spiritually
• Learn how to care for theatrical lights

Thing I have done:

• Cleaned my room (hey, that's an accomplishment)
• Watched a whole lot of movies (yay Netflix)
• Doodled a LOT
• Learned to play "Sweet Home Alabama" on the guitar
• Beaten Mario Kart Wii
• Beaten Super Mario Galaxy
• Beaten Battalion Wars II (are you getting a good picture of my summer?)
• Finished Pride and Prejudice
• Slept a LOT
  

Paper Chandelier

Last weekend I found myself in the Neiman Marcus at the Mall at Millenia. This venture into the foreign world of the modern shopping mall lead me to one of the most brilliant things I've seen in quite a while; an idea which I intend to plagiarize in my classroom. It was a chandelier of sorts, although that might stretch the definition thereof, consisting of sheets of paper, wire and binder clips. Visitors from all over the world had written messages in their native tongues, drawn a flag, created a picture from words, whatever came over them at the time. I love this idea. I love how individual it is, and how it is in essence a cloud of thought which is ever changing. I think I will attempt to make something similar for my classroom at school and give the students the opportunity to share their art work or thoughts in a relatively anonymous way. There is, however, the danger of getting a lot of profanity and vulgarity if placed in a high school classroom. I think I'll try it anyway, and trust that they can be mature about it. Yeah, right.

Reader challenge: My own note is up there, see if you can guess which one it is! (No fair if I already showed you...) Post your guesses in the comments.

In Search of Inspiration

I find that in the slow summer months (may they last forever) that I have little about which to write. It's not that I don't want to, but a play by play commentary describing my afternoons sitting around playing Nintendo and carrying on long and intense conversations with my cat isn't particularly interesting.

Then came my trip to Border's this weekend. As Curt and I searched for the hard cover Strunk & White's, I happened upon an intriguingly small cube-shaped book. The Writer's Block emblazoned on it's binding caught my eye, and I soon found myself flipping through its worn three inch pages. This is a book that has seen some hands. Stopping on random pages, I began to see why. Page after page of prompts. Things to write about; fiction, autobiography, a story heard long ago, all of them there on a 3 x 3 page waiting for me. So I bought it (and got a discount because it was a little beat up), and I'm going to use it. Maybe I'll share some of it here. Maybe.

Hi, I'm Laura, and I'm a Pack Rat

One look at my bedroom would tell you that I'm a pack rat. I don't throw things away if they have an iota of sentimental value. So, my room looks like an 8th grade art class or a very large refrigerator door. Pictures from trips, high school memorabilia, and bits and pieces of things from college clutter my bookshelf, floor, desk and walls. There is just too much stuff. It's no wonder that I have been dragging my feet in beginning the daunting task of cleaning and redesigning my room. I don't even know what color to paint it. Some things need to go, I'm sure of that; but I don't want to take the walk down memory lane only to find out how much I've forgotten.

It will eventually have to happen, because I'm going a little bit stir-crazy with all of the clutter.

On Exams

I've finally kicked my butt into gear and looked into the registration process for the Florida General Knowledge Exam which I must complete before the beginning of October if I want to keep my job. The act of looking it up and filling out the registration forms online brings back memories of high school and registration for the SATs, IB and AP exams. There is this distinct feeling I get when I think about exams. I dread them in general, but at the same time look at it with a fairly large ego. I've never done horrible on a general knowledge test. The FCAT was remarkably easy in my memory, and the SATs, while a good deal harder than the FCAT, presented only things I had seen and studied before.

In fact, I don't think I've ever had a horrible experience in an exam. There was the ACT, which I took on the morning after our second performance of "Les Miserables" for which I was only half awake. But even then, my score was better than average; I didn't get the score I wanted, but it was still better than many. Incidentally, I took that exam at the school where I now teach. I recall the first day of IB Chemistry being difficult, but I attribute that to the unfortunate schedule which placed it after IB History, thus my brain was already fried. In hindsight, spending the lunch break at the bowling alley thinking of anything but chemistry was perhaps not the best choice. The AP Calculus AB exam was absolutely atrocious. Since our main focus was the IB Calculus exam, we hadn't really prepared for the AP. Also, I had missed a few important days because of Drama (go figure) and could not for the life of me find the volume of a shape rotated around the x-axis (or the y-axis for that matter). I spent most of that exam doodling and drawing fish in a cylinder.

Yes, my senior year of high school was full of exams, some fairly easy, other decidedly not. My main memory is going in with confidence. Never nervous, always a little unsure, but confident. Hopefully this time around it will be the same.

LA, LV, LA

This leg of the California adventure took us to the Los Angeles area where most of my cousins live. Last Saturday was my cousin's debut (pronounced dey-boo by Filipinos), so we all got dolled up for the big night. It is basically a cotillion ball for only one debutant. Anyway, I'd never been to one before, so it was all new to me. Good times.

My family takes opportunities such as this one to have huge family reunions, so good times are had by all. This year everyone decided to take a vacation to Las Vegas, where we could eat copious amounts of food (methinks Las Vegas is the capital of all-you-can-eat buffets), feed money into slot machines and enjoy each other's company. This was my second time in Las Vegas, but my first since I've turned 21, and thus been able to actually stand in the casino area, rather than being watching from the child friendly aisles. Having seen it from up close, I'm not quite sure what the big fuss is about. It seems to me like a city created for the sole purpose of taking your money. Keith and I saw Spamalot our first night there which was pretty much amazing. I got a bobblehead "Knight of Ni".

My family and a couple of my uncles took a break from the city Wednesday morning and drove out to Hoover Dam which was pretty awesome, to say the least. Not only is it a marvel of engineering, but it also boasts some lovely art deco architecture. Here are some pictures.

The turbines that harness the power of the Colorado River.

The view from half way up the dam.

View from the top looking down.

Looking across the face of dam.

That art deco architecture I was talking about applied to the water intakes on the upstream side of the dam. This also reminded me of Starwars. Just saying.

An angel in the art deco style. Again, pretty awesome.

We're now back in the LA area. Tonight: Wicked. Tomorrow: Disneyland.

En La Isla De Los Alcatraces

Today Keith and I took the ferry boat over to Alcatraz Island which proved to be one of the highlights of the day, since I walked within 3 feet of one of the best soccer players in the world, David Beckham, and his family. Incidentally, I had seen Victoria Beckham earlier in the day and thought, "Wow, with that haircut and those sunglasses, that lady looks exactly like Victoria Beckham!"

Celebrity spotting aside, the visit to the island was quite good as well. It holds such legendary status in Americana that actually being there, seeing the cells and feeling the cold Pacific winds coming off the bay is almost unreal. I caught myself thinking on more than one occasion that it being there wouldn't be too bad. Of course, I would remind myself that no matter how beautiful the weather, Alcatraz is Alcatraz, and it has that reputation for a reason. The audio tour has become a jumping off point, whetting my appetite for stories from Alcatraz. I spent several hours reading about its history on Wikipedia after returning to Paul's apartment. The story of the three escapees that may or may not have made it is absolutely fascinating. I almost hope that they did, because that would make an already amazing story even more so. Keith was also observant enough to notice that he and one of the escapees use the same hair product. It is also interesting to note that the can for Murrey's Superior Hair Dressing Pomade hasn't changed in seven decades. There was a sign there that said the things in the cell were props from a movie, but I choose to ignore that.

It seemed cruel to put the toughest prison in the country in such a beautiful location, with the city and the Golden Gate Bridge just across the bay; so close that they could hear the sounds of life floating across the water when the wind blew in the right direction. I can imagine that knowledge of the outside only made the long hours a little longer. The families of prison guards who lived on the island spoke of it as they would any other small town.

Notes from San Francisco

We made it safely to San Francisco, and I feel like it's October. It's in the 70s, the wind is blowing and the sun is hot. Basically, it's gorgeous. The roof of Paul's apartment has a nice view of the Golden Gate Bridge and whatever lies across it. I've been here once before, when we visited Mom's uncle in Vallejo, but I remember very little from that trip other than the fact that seals, although cute, make a lot of noise and smell pretty bad.

I look forward to seeing what the city has to offer. It's different than I imagined it. You say San Francisco, and I think of flower children, maximum security prisoners, and gay people. I think of huge earthquakes and turn of the century Asian immigrants. There is more color than I imagined. The houses across the street are this sun-bleached brown, green and pink. Although it is one of those iconic cities, I don't think I've seen many pictures of it, at least not the residential areas. Anyway, I'll post some pictures somewhere in the near future, once I've taken them.

Who knew the Denver Airport has free WiFi? Keith and I missed our connecting flight to San Francisco, so we ended up having a layover when we had initially anticipated none. Our plane actually landed on schedule, but we were stuck on the tarmac for a good 15 minutes waiting for another flight to get out of our gate. Despite a mad dash across the terminal, we missed the flight by maybe two minutes, which is frustrating to say the least. We had to stand in a long line for 45 minutes, then finally were booked on the flight for which we now wait.

So, we're waiting.

Pictures

I finally downloaded all of the pictures I've taken in the last two months onto my computer. Here is a small selection. I have more, but the my internet connection is running really slowly for some reason and I don't have the patience for it. Perhaps I'll post more later.

Here's one side of the "Arsenic and Old Lace" set, including the most complicated part, the stairs.

This is the other side of the set, and the second most complicated part of the set. The windows took about 6 hours to make, but they turned out pretty well, if I do say so myself. I actually had to put some of my Advanced Stagecraft knowledge to use and join the windows with splines.

The whole set in all of it's glory. It was more impressive in person, and it was a heck of a lot of fun to play on. Fun fact: the picture on the stage right wall (that's the far left, for you non-theatre people) would slide every time anyone opened or closed the door so that by the end of the show it was almost sideways. I got a kick out of it, although it likely distracted some audience members from enjoying the show fully.

Here are some shots from my trip to Tampa for the Florida State Thespian Festival. I love some of the architecture in downtown Tampa.

The Tampa Theatre is probably the most aesthetically pleasing theatre I've ever been in. Check out those light fixtures!

The exterior of the Tampa Theatre. It harkens back to a time when people actually went to the theatre.

Some random building we walked past. I thought it was pretty.

A totally cool mural painted on the side of a music store.

What I Miss About Tallahassee

My trip up to Tallahassee this past weekend reminded me what I miss about it as a city. I'm refer not to the people, relationships, or student life, but the city itself, things that are unique to our state's capital. Tallahassee has an abundance of really good homegrown restaurants, Tallahassee originals, small shops that have grown enough to have one or two locations in the city, but nowhere else. Hopkins Eatery, Cool Grindz (I ignore the tacky Z at the end for the sake of their White Chocolate Mochas, Cafe Con Leche and Chai Lattes), The Coffee Pub, The Pitaria, and One Fresh Stir-Fry are some of my favorites. Even better, I have memories tied to each and every one of these.

I used to go the the Pitaria during a break after some of my theatre classes because it was right down the street. It was also the last place I ate in Tallahassee before moving back to Orlando. I used to have D-Group at the Cool Grindz downtown when we got tired of the ever busy Starbucks. C. and I used to chat with the baristas while they made our drinks at the one on Monroe and Tharpe. One Fresh was an after-church favorite. They also have amusing signs in the dining area.I took a picture of this one for Dad. If you can't read it through the glare, it says "Did You Close Your Garage Door?" Sound Familiar?

The Coffee Pub was probably my favorite study spot, especially in the mid-afternoon before all of the college kids got there. They had these really comfortable chairs in the corner by the window which allowed for copious amounts of people watching and a good deal of studying as well. That's where I studied for my Modern British Lit exam, and where I wrote the first few pages of a Senior Seminar paper. On one occasion, I was surprised to find non-college students in a very college-type coffee shop. I had grown accustomed to the evening hours when every seat was occupied by laptop laden students. So, one Wednesday morning I was surprised to see a few older ladies walk in with their knitting to sit, drink coffee and chat.

It's Over

They have this really great tradition at the 9th Grade Center. On the last day of finals, the teachers walk their students down to the bus loop and wave goodbye as the buses pull out. I think the real purpose is to prevent fights by getting the students out of there as quickly as possible, and by flooding the area with adults. It is nonetheless satisfying to see them leave. Once the buses are gone, the teachers cheer. Goodbye and good riddance. It was a great feeling.

Anyway, we still have another two days of work. The end of the year is packed with paperwork, and since I've never done any of it before, it takes a really long time, which is why I'm up at 1:00AM working. It's been a long time since I've done this. I want to say I miss this feeling of burning the midnight oil, but when I did that I generally had a lot more sleep than I have this past week. In any case, back to work.

A Cruel Break

It seems cruel to give students (and teachers) a three day weekend a week before school gets out. Not only have we suffered through almost two months (since Spring Break) of no three day weekends, we have one right before summer vacation, a single day mocking us, providing just a hint of the sweetness to come in a week and a half. I am already in summer mode, playing Nintendo (by the way, I beat the Fast Staff Ghost for one of the courses! It took me three hours, but I did it!) and being lazy all around. Unfortunately, the end of the year is one of the busiest times for teachers with all of the paperwork and miscellaneous hoops through which we must jump before they let us leave, not to mention grades and all of that stuff.

So, I'm beginning to stress out a little about everything. Just a little.

News Headline States Obvious

This just in, earthquakes are dangerous according to a recent scientific study. I saw this headline on my iGoogle page, and couldn't resist making fun of it for the sheer Duh Factor. "Scientists: Gigantic Earthquake Would Devastate Southern California." Really? What gave them that impression? Could it possibly be the recent natural disaster in China? Thank you, China, for showing us that we too would be screwed if a similar earthquake struck our shores. Now that we know we can do. . . almost nothing about it.

Does anyone else find that a little bit tasteless (says she as she pokes fun)? It belittles the huge amounts of loss they have experienced in China, steals focus from their suffering and places it on the potential danger to Southern California. Please, let them figure out how many people have died before you start forgetting about them.

And while I'm on the topic of the news media, do you ever get the impression that the writers assumer their readers are idiots?

Layers of Shirts and other Randomness

I'm a fan of layering shirts. For one thing, it makes me look a little more teacher-ish, which given my age and maturity is always a good thing. It gives me an excuse to wear t-shirts, and it also covers the fact that, due to some severe laziness, I didn't iron any of my nice shirts this week.

In other news, I'm toying with the possibility of getting Wii Fit in the next few weeks. It will definitely have to be after school is over, because I'm slacking enough as it is without further distractions.

I graduated from high school five years ago Monday (May 20, 2003). Yikes! Where did the time go? Today was the last day for seniors, and it was hard to see them go. I'll miss some of them immensely. Others, not so much. I've been thinking of my own last days in high school and the fun and sadness. The long series of lasts. Last show (Les Mis!), last class, last test, last year book, last drive home, last AP Exam, last IB exam. And then there was that blasted song, "Friends Forever," and the swaying, hugging melody that somehow succeeded in bringing tears to every Senior's face at some point in time whether they want to admit it or not.

Rain and Driving

It hasn't rained here in ages. At least, it feels like ages. See, we're used to daily afternoon rains this time of year, and they haven't come yet. The grass on the practice field is turning brown. The dust is accumulating its second layer on my poor white car. And it's hot. There is no respite from the sun's onslaught. So we Floridians retreat to our air-conditioned houses, and work places, and cars, not daring to spend too much time in the heat, lest we break a sweat and have to shower twice in one day.

I miss the rain, but I love the crystal clear afternoons. Driving home as the warm sun floods through my rear window. I like driving home in the afternoons. I might go so far as to say it's my favorite part of the day.

News and Notes

I've been slacking as far as writing goes, and work has followed suit. Now that I have time on my hands, I don't quite know what to do with it. I have work that I could and should be doing, especially with the end of the year coming up, but I can't motivate myself to do it. Perhaps I subconsciously believe that I don't have to live by the same rules as everyone else because I'm working more hours than anyone else on campus.

For the first time this year, I think I'm getting a taste of what all the other teachers get to do all year. I have to say, it would take some getting used to. I've grown so accustomed to being there all the time that leaving before the sun sets is a strange sensation. Not that I like leaving that late.

Anyway, I guess that's all I have to say. There are, of course, things to talk about, but well, I don't really feel like it.

Possibilities

Now that Arsenic and Old Lace is over, thoughts of next year have begun flooding my mind. The ever-present question of what to do for our fall play, one act and [gulp] the spring musical looms over my head. I have all summer to decide these things, but with students asking almost daily what we're doing next year, throwing out suggestions, and begging to design the set or be technical director, I can't escape it. So, I've begun searching. Well maybe not searching--because that would require effort--but definitely downloading musicals from iTunes to expand my library and hopefully fall enough in love with one of them to do it next year.

I'm currently rocking out to Godspell, which, I have to admit, is pretty groovy. I saw it a when University did it ages ago, but didn't remember much about it, other than who played the lead as well as a freshman who got a long solo, and that it had that one song that DC Talk covered. Anyway, I'm digging it. I'll have to see if I can get my hands on a script. I talked to Mrs. D at State, and Godspell was her first musical, so it can't be too bad of an option. Also, Stephen Schwartz wrote the music for it, and I happen to adore one of his more recent works, Wicked.

A Funny Thing Happened On The Way To The Forum was also suggested by another District V sponsor, but I haven't heard it yet, so I will reserve judgment, although the thought of a musical comedy is quite appealing. It is also written by a famous composer/lyricist, Stephen Sondheim (Sweeney Todd, West Side Story lyrics, Gypsy lyrics, Company, Assassins, Into the Woods).

I've got some options. Why I'm worrying about this instead of the fall play, I'm not sure. But plays are so much harder to find because there so many of them.

Flexing the English Muscles

I saw Miss Saigon at University High last night, where the theatre is always good. During the drive home, Dad and I talked about the function of the Engineer. Why is he the lead male role? Why would they put so much focus on this one character, who (at least in this particular production) was primarily the comic relief?

Here are some thoughts:
- In a show as heavy (depressing) as Miss Saigon, the audience needs comic relief, and quite frequently. Imagine jumping from Kim killing Thuy, to Bui-Doi, to the Fall of Saigon, to Chris finding out there's a kid, to Kim finding out there's a wife, to Kim killing herself. Imagine sitting through that one after the other without the interjection of commentary and humor by the Engineer.
- He provides a glimpse of the mindset of those in Saigon who aren't falling in love at the time. He is an exaggerated character who communicates to the audience the utter desperation of those in his situation, and the hope they have for America. I suspect the authors intended for his songs to be heard with irony, since his image of America is more dream than reality, and since he will most likely never get there anyway.
- Kim needs him. She is a passive character, allowing things to be done to her, rather than doing them for herself. In the opening scene, the Engineer discovers her and gives her a job, the other girls put her in a dress and make her up, John buys her for Chris, Chris takes her to live with him, etc., etc. Without the Engineer, Kim wouldn't get anywhere, the story wouldn't move on, and we'd be dealing with a dead Kim by the end of Act I.

I don't really like the Engineer. His music is only okay, and many of his songs feel as though they were shoved in there as buffers between all of the songs in the Kim-Chris-Ellen story. Heavy with synthesizers and generally staccato, the music clashes with the epic orchestrations of the main story.

Anyway, I'll keep thinking about it. I'm still recovering from "Arsenic and Old Lace," so my brain function isn't up to its normal capacity. If you have an opinion, chime in! I'm dying for some intelligent debate!

A Tired Bunch

It's Sunday night, and I feel as though I haven't had a weekend. I spent both yesterday and today working on the set for "Arsenic and Old Lace," and I am exhausted. So, in lieu of writing something, which would require thinking and some kind of effort, I'll just post some pictures of the progress.

This is the set we've had for the last three weeks or so. Due to usage by other groups every weekend, we could not put a more permanent set up until Saturday afternoon.

The first wall is up! The top of that flat is 14 feet high. Initially, the height worried us, but after we put it up, we discovered it was totally fine! It's very sturdy up there.

Here's what we have as of Sunday night. Notice the moulding on the top of the flats. This gives it a finished look. Without it, the eye doesn't know where to stop, and it inevitably looks awkward. Riddel High from last year's production of "Grease" is visible in the background. During the show the upstage traveler will hide that.

The view from the audience of what we have thus far. We are very close to being done. Once we've finished painting stripes on the last flat, we can put everything else up and finalize it all. I estimate that it will take a few hours. Then again, I estimated that we could have the set finished Saturday before 8PM.

Anyway, come see the show this coming weekend, if only to look at the beautiful set.

Here's the info:
Arsenic and Old Lace
Colonial High School Performing Arts Center
April 24, 25, & 26 @ 7:00PM
April 27 @ 2:30PM
Tickets $5 pre-sale, $7 at the door

Stress

The green numerals of my alarm clocked glared back at my sleepless eyes a few nights ago, mocking me as I watched my few hours of sleep wither away in the early morning hours. It was 1:30, and despite a 13 hour work day and little sleep the previous night, I could not coax myself into blissful rest. I though I had perhaps drunk a cup of caffeinated tea that evening, but I realized in my hour listening to the ceiling fan squeak that it was not. Then I thought I had drifted off watching TV. I finally drifted off as I searched my brain for reasons I could not sleep.

The next night, the same thing happened. As I lay bewildered, the answer came to me. Stress. Anxiety. I can't sleep when my mind is full of endless lists of things I need to do, and more important, the consequence of failure to do those things. Anyway, it was a lot to do. Still is.

I'm tend to put a lot of pressure on myself. I feel that the success or failure of whatever project rests on my shoulders, and mine alone. Even with the play, I feel that I am somehow responsible for my cast's failure to be off book when I asked them too, or their shortcomings as actors. I take the responsibility of that onto myself, and it drives me insane.

I think I've said this before, as I'm beginning to sound like a broken record, but I feel like I'm playing catch up all the time. As a teacher, director, designer, adult, I'm have to learn as I go along, and as a result, things get dropped, messed up, forgotten. I'm getting very frustrated with it. It doesn't help that I daily go into work and feel completely inadequate. It seems like I have a student every day who seems to make it their personal goal to make me feel like a puddle of mud by the end of the period.

I'm getting tired of hearing, "this class is boring," and "I hate this class right now," and "Miss, you're being stupid." Do they not realize that I have feelings too, and that I'm quite aware that I suck at my job without them reminding me with every snide remark and rolled eye aimed in my direction? I get the feeling that most teachers wouldn't put up with that, but I don't know what options I have. No one told me.

I can't wait until summer.

Eulogy for a Break

Let us all remove our hats and observe a moment of silence for the untimely demise of Spring Break. Enjoy this last moment of student-free bliss and look toward the coming weeks with tenacious resolve and perseverance, for there remain only 9 weeks until the carefree days of summer are upon us. April is the cruelest month, for it brings with it Spring Break, a small taste of the happiness to come, only to yank it rudely from our fingers and push us back into the daily grind.

So, school restarts tomorrow. Can you tell I'm not looking forward to it? Perhaps that's to do with me not quite knowing what is coming next in my classes. I have a vague idea of what to do next, but no definite, "This is what we're doing today." I'll figure it out before 9:20 tomorrow morning when the kids walk through my classroom door. In a perfect and ideal world in which I'm someone else, I would have spent the last five days planning the rest of the year and writing out my daily lesson plans to alleviate the stress of the next few weeks. Instead I spent it sleeping, reading Jane Austen, and watching movies. In my defense, we had friends in town for the first half of the week, so I consider myself excused from accomplishing anything, but Wednesday through Friday is completely my fault. I did get bits and pieces of things done for the show (compiling the massive props list and creating a build list), but other school related things were completely ignored.

At times like this, I'm reminded of my 9th grade summer reading assignment, The Seven Habits of Highly Effective People, and wonder if paying attention to that might have helped in my life as a student and now as an adult [do you hear laughter?]. It is possible. I am, however, inclined to think that the timeless words of Dr. Stephen R. Covey would have been more beneficial had I not thought that "paradigm" was pronounced "par-a-dig-um," and indeed, believed it to mean "something beside a digm (whatever that was)," for the entire summer. In any case, the years since have brought me to believe that I'm just not a proactive person.

All of this to say, I didn't get much done. But I did read some Jane Austen.

Already?

I spent an hour or so today working on my retirement plan. Yes, you read that right, retirement. I talked to a guy on the phone about diversified portfolios, and the amount of risk I'd like to take in mine, and other things which should really only be talked about in New York high rises and commercials featuring octogenarians. In the course of this misplaced conversation, I came upon a couple of slightly frightening thoughts. One, I am at the age at which I have to start thinking about the end of my life. Two, I have another 40 years or so until I can stop working, and if that's the case, I really truly hope that my job starts getting better. Three, I've done the Rubik's Cube so many times that I hardly have to be paying attention anymore. Okay, maybe that last one is just bragging. But in any case, it was strange to think that I should even be thinking about retirement. While I do live in the old people capital of the world (Exaggerating? Maybe.), I don't feel as though I should be thinking of joining their ranks any time soon.

Anyway, all of this to say, I thought it was weird. I'm currently on spring break now, which means a lot of sitting around thinking of what I should be doing and finding reasons to put it off until tomorrow.

Post Quota for March: MET! Horray for staying on schedule!

A Jonas Day

Perhaps it is just one of life's cruelties that at the moment my confidence begins to grow something enters the equation to overshadow the faintest glimmer of self-assurance. For the last few days, I've been riding a wave of naive positivity after my post observation conference in which the Boss-lady told me that both she and the Grand Poobah are happy with my performance thus far. Today that wave broke and I again find myself floundering in a sea of confusion, frustration, and stress. I basically messed up on the paperwork, and the messing up thereof requires a large amount of time consuming work to fix. Right now, time is at a premium since I have four classes worth of journals to grade before Friday when grades are due, a set to build and a play to rehearse.

I'm so tired of messing up. It seems that every few weeks I have another small crisis and I find myself in the Captain's Chair in the band room (don't ask me why it's called the Captain's Chair, I have no idea) asking the Seasoned Veteran how to dig myself out of this pile of whatsit I have landed myself in again. I tend to beat myself up over mistakes, and every time I make one of these big mistakes, I end up spending at least a few days completely drained from the mental beating I've given myself. Although I am reminded quite regularly that this is my first year, and I can't be expected to know how to do everything, I have this irrational expectation that I'll know it anyway. My crazy chem teacher in high school used to say I have a neurosis; I'm beginning to think he was right.

I am so exhausted in so many ways. Spring break is a few days away, but it too will be filled with work. Here's to hoping that it gets easier.

News and Notes

'News and Notes,' wasn't that the title a few posts ago? Why, yes, observant reader, it was. In my busyness and abject laziness, I've temporarily given up on writing creative titles for the seemingly endless stream of posts whining about my job and have place in their stead a consistent title. This will no doubt help you in knowing what to skip when surfing through your Google Reader feed in the mornings (or whenever it is that you have the luxury of sitting down and reading the assorted offerings of the world wide web).

Anyway, I have my first official observation tomorrow with my supervising AP. I'm understandably anxious about it. The butterflies currently setting up camp in my stomach are akin to those which took their vacations from the wide open spaces to my gastrointestinal tract on the evenings before a presentation or performance in high school. Pardon me while I go freak out for a moment. All this anxiety stems from my lack of experience (hey, that sounds familiar) with this particular situation. Although I've been teaching for 4 1/2 months, I have yet to be evaluated objectively; I don't generally count the "you suck"s and the "this class is boring"s as objective or accurate feedback.

On the upside, the Grand Poobah himself came into 6th period today, and I thanked my lucky stars that we were for once doing something in the classroom and I actually looked like I was teaching my students something. That's not to say that I don't usually teach my students things, but theatre being what it is, much of our time is spent doing things which frankly don't look very studious or teacherly, like rehearsing, or playing improv games. Anyway, I had the projector on and was writing on the board and everything. It was pretty impressive. I'm sure some of my students were bored out of their minds the moment I picked up the dry erase marker, but I had a good time today, and I think at least a few of them understood what I was trying teach them.

So, tomorrow is a big day. Big day.

Oh, we also finally finished blocking "Arsenic and Old Lace," so we move into run throughs. Let the train wreck begin.

Springtime

It's beginning to feel very Spring-ish in this part of the country. As I locked up my classroom this evening the cool breeze carried the smell of growing things across my face. Grass, freshly churned dirt. I thought of the family of raccoons living under the portables behind the PAC and I wondered if they love this weather as much as I do. It seems odd that I haven't named them yet. I've been too busy to think about that kind of thing, I guess. Anyway, it's feeling Spring-ish. I'm sure that before too long, the Florida weather will turn again, and the heat will beat down on that freshly churned dirt.

This week has been gorgeous, in spite of what promises to follow. Weeks like this make me wish I lived my life in the sunshine, instead of in the deep shadow and bright lights of a theatre, or under the drab fluorescent tubes of my classroom. I can't help but think that I would be happier if I spent more time outdoors.

Today was a day for peaceful airy music played by a string quartet, for long hair left free to dance in the breeze, for jeans, a t-shirt, and a sun-kissed glow. I drove home with the window rolled down (except on the highway because that's not as aerodynamic and therefore less fuel efficient) thinking of the Tallahassee spring and the thick layer of pollen which turned my white car green for a several months in the year, and feeling the wind whip across my shoulders after going up the sleeve covering the arm draped out the window. Yes, I love Spring. It has so many possibilities. Memories, if they felt like anything physical, would feel like a cool breeze caressing my face on a Spring afternoon.

Daylight Savings

Today daylight savings became a mosquito buzzing through my daily routine. Ages ago I looked forward to the beginning of daylight savings with childish excitement. Daylight savings meant the fireflies were coming back soon. It meant my brothers and I could play outside longer, even after dinner, and it would soon be warm enough to wear shorts and make mud pies under the swing in the spring rain and float paper boats in the puddles under the hemlock. We would come in after a long day of playing Davey Crockett in the yard, our faces sweaty and sticky, black necklaces of dirt and sweat around our necks, our sleeves zebra striped from being dragged across our faces.

Daylight savings meant summer. Kick-the-can at night, baseball out by the chicken house (we were moved to the back after putting a hole through the parlor window), long afternoons reading, soccer, skipping rocks in the pond, riding our bikes out to the road to get the mail, no school. Summer was great. I loved summer when I was little. Somehow there was always something to do. That was summer in Virginia.

Now daylight savings means I have to turn a light on in the morning to find my way to the bathroom, and I drive home as the sun sets in my rear view mirror.

News and Notes

I've been having one of those weeks in which I question whether or not I'm supposed to be doing this job. I won't go into details, but frankly, it has sucked. Most of my anxiety stems from my lack of professionalism and my age. I forget sometimes that I am in charge and not a teenager, and therefore can't treat my students as peers. This may sound bizarre, but it is a daily struggle to turn on the filter and not say what I'm thinking. On top of all of that, I'm really behind in grading things (there is literally a stack more than an inch and a half high of things to read, the majority of which were completed with a half-hearted effort), and I'm more busy than ever with show things.

I also found out today that I have to schedule an observation for sometime before spring break, which is just what I don't need at this moment when I feel most inadequate. Perhaps what I'm going through results from an overload of criticism (how else should I interpret, "Miss, this is boring" and "when are we actually going to do anything in this class"?) and complete lack of affirmation. My students want something from me, but I don't know what it is, and I doubt I would be able to deliver even if I did.

Anyway, now for something different. I was playing with the cat earlier and realized that my two favorite nicknames for him are rhyming couplets: fat cat and pretty kitty. Maybe that last one isn't quite right, but it sounds the same, so I go with it. That small fact makes me pretty happy. It's almost like God's little gift to people who like rhyming.