Looky, Looky!

It's finally out!

I will also be taking part in this event:

Friday, May 11, 2007 – 6:30 pm – Houston , TX Contributors will sign books at a book party celebrating the publication of Windows into My World: Latino Youth Write Their Lives at Talento Bilingue de Houston, 333 S. Jensen, Houston , TX . For more information, call 713-743-2999.

A Gentle Reminder

On my way home, I stopped by the cluster of mailboxes near the entrance of our complex to get our mail. We often forget and with ads coming in on Tuesdays and Wednesdays, our mailbox is pretty full by Thursday. There’s a bulletin board on the back wall of the mail center where people post up crap and announcements.

There’s been a letter from management about properly using the security gates around our complex and about checking our mailboxes on a regular basis otherwise the postman will assume we have moved for the last couple of months. Today, there was a new message on this letter. It stated:

INS will be picking up all wetbacks 4/20/07 please leave now

I read the message four or five times trying to grasp why someone would post that. Then I stood there trying to figure out why it was written there. Then I thought to all of the raids going on near Dan the Man’s work and wondered if this would really be happening. Then, I took my mail and continued to wonder. I wished I’d had my camera so that I could take a picture of it and analyze it further.

When I got home, I told Dan the Man and he insisted that we go take it down.

But what if it’s for real? What if they come raid our complex on the 20th?

Strange things are happening in this country, especially in the area I live in. People are still very xenophobic, and the diversion of attention from Iraq to immigration is really stirring the pot.

When I took down the warning, I slipped it into the mail drop at the office and added my own message “Is this true?”

Too Little, Too Late

Today, in our 6th grade team meeting, as I was being booed by a colleague because I opted not to partake in Friday’s pep rally events, I made a vow to myself that I wouldn’t be so concerned with the upcoming exams and not mention it to my students until maybe next year.

I’m tired of this last minute push to get the kids ready. The way I figure, we’re four days away; they either know it or they don’t. There really isn’t much that I can do now. It really upsets me that it’s now that we’re getting help from up above about it. Never mind that some of this kids haven’t turned in work and when sent to the office returned with a warning or a day’s worth of after school detention, or that when they were assigned to in school suspension and work returned undone, no one was reprimanded.

On the mock exams, my students had 87% and quite a big being commended. I told them that my goal is 100% passing rate and hope they’re on board because there’s no way the 7th or 8th graders should enjoy a day of swimming the last day of school.

Easter break was good. I spent a lot of it fighting with the computer trying to get my internet to work and watching movies. I saw The Departed, which I didn’t think was that great. I also tried to watch The Good Shepherd, but was unable to maintain the attention span. At the theatre, I saw Blades of Glory, which wasn’t as funny as I imagined, and Grindhouse, which was, by far, the best movie I saw all weekend.

As time marches on, I can’t wait for summer vacation. I know that after a couple of weeks, I’ll wish school to be back in session, especially since this summer is longer than usual; but it’ll be nice when I wake up wanting to go to the beach or stay in bed all day and be able to do it.

All in Small Doses, Please

As the time for final exams approaches, the headless chicken syndrome becomes the burnt out syndrome which means that you may begin to think, “Why do I have to do all this? *Insert colleague name here* isn’t doing all this s&%!, why do I? Seriously?” Also, certain become much more irritating. Usually, these are the ones that you couldn’t stand in the first place, so the irritability level has sky rocketed. This is why it’s good to only be around them for short periods of time. Unless of course, you’re stuck at training with them for seven consecutive hours or it would be against the law to just them to go home early because what seems like an opportunity for extra fun is loss of instructional time.

I’m holding onto the notion that in May, the fun will begin. Or is it just a small coincidence that the 6th grade field trip just happens to be the day after the Pre-AP End of Course Exams is given?

In the meantime, I’m trying to recall what life was like before I became part of the red apple, yellow school bus society.

On Writing

I’m starting to think that signing up for this writing class wasn’t the best idea. Don’t get me wrong, I have learned a few tricks and it’s also nice to hang out with people who are interested in literature.

The problem lies in the writing part. We do one writing activity per session, and it’s not the utmost important thing. Out of the three hours we’re in class, we spend maybe 25 minutes writing and the rest critiquing. I’m not of the group that says that writers don’t need to read, but I would like to spend more time writing, even if it was only 20 more minutes.

Also, we end up with a lot of homework. Each week, we have to critique, at the very least, three other stories. With the weeks I’ve been having, I barely have enough time to critique the pieces, let alone write.

It just seems that other workshops I’ve had, I’ve been allowed to do more writing than in this one. Nevertheless, I will continue to chip time away from other things to fit in some writing time here and there.

Last week, when we didn’t have class because of Spring Break, I got up early on Sunday and spent two hours at the computer typing my life away. I’m hoping this habit will congeal once class is over. I rather enjoy my Saturday morning literature time.

Conversations before Spring Break

Miscellany

Happy International Women’s Day!

I hope you all had/have a wonderful one. I had some of the vagina shaped chocolates one of my colleagues gave me as a thank you for purchasing tickets to her church’s production of The Vagina Monologues. Also, if you haven’t done so, sign the Mujeres de Juárez petition, or pass along the link.

It’s been a long, long time since I’ve last been here, hasn’t it?

A couple years ago, when I signed on to do this teaching thing, I didn’t really realize how much of my time it would take up. I mean, I knew there would be grading at home and maybe some research, but I didn’t think there would be this much.

The giant TAKS Fairy is back in town. It’s been perusing the halls causing students and teachers to do weird things like this:


My students did most of the work on this. I just put forth the ideas, supplies, and ultimate delegation powers. They will also have to decorate lockers and perform a stomp and some other crap. Although it is a lot of work, it’s a whole lot of fun and the kids are so proud of their creations.

Some teachers get really competitive and begin to poison the kids. One in specific, tells them, “We’re going to win because I’ve never, in all the years I’ve been here, lost. I’m placing first in something.”

Her comments really bother me because I don’t think its right for an adult to say something like that to kids. My students have had so much fun and they are so proud of their work, and really, that’s what it’s about for me. Last year, I did a lot of the work and it was sort of sad. But this year, I’ve had at least five kids stay after school or come in before school every day to help. I don’t care about placing because we’re already pretty famous around the school, and my students love that.

In other news, I’ve actually been keeping my resolution about writing. The class I’m taking is okay. It’s a lot of extra work, but our teacher gives us tons of ideas/tips. I got work shopped a couple weeks ago and it was quite fruitful.

Spring Break is one day away and I can’t wait. We’re going to some tiny Texas town called Jarrell, outside of Austin. I suspect I’ll be making a lot of trips to Austin or spending a lot of time out by the pool.

Foot in Mouth

Yesterday, we had a parent thing. They called it something like "TAKS Training Camp." It was meant to inform parents about how we prepare their kids for TAKS and what they can do to help us prepare their students.

I don't know if I've mentioned Mr. C before. He's our new 6th grade Assistant Principal. He's really cool. He's Mexican American, and he's a little different than the people we've had before, but he's not revolutionary.

When we first met with him, he, of course, did the obligatory speech to introduce himself and yadda yadda. I was taken back when he said our school's name. Most people never say it the way he does because the way he says it is with the Latino accent. He also referred to his daughter as "mi'jita." With that, I felt really comfortable around him and the feeling has only grown since.

So when he gave me the basket with door prizes and tickets, I replied, "Why me? What did I do?"

"I'd give the to Orozco, but he'd steal them. Es una rata." (He was kidding of course. We give Orozco a hard time.)

I was glad to have something to do. I felt useful standing by the door greeting parents and handing out tickets. Being in charge of this also meant I got to draw for prizes. Halfway through the presentation, Mr. C came up and told me to hold off on the door prizes for a bit because we didn't have enough to do one after every presentation. Since he whispered this to me, the coach didn't know we weren't doing a drawing before his presentation.

As coach walked up to the promethean board, he said, "Is there a door prize?"

The only words that came out of my mouth were, "Nope, you are the door prize."

As you can imagine in a room full of women, there was a lot of laughter and a lot of red on my part. Fortunately, he blew it off and continued. My colleagues who were standing around me couldn't stop laughing, and I'm sure I resembled a ripe tomato.

You'd think that'd be enough foot in mouth syndrome, but nope. Not for me, I'd have to shine the light on my a little more.

When our enlightening training was drawing to and end, I sauntered up to the front of the room with what I thought was the final prize, a $25 Wal Mart gift card. I allowed Mr. C to draw the last number, but he was confused. He'd put a card in his pocket thinking it was the one I had.

As I said before, foot in the mouth once a night is not good enough for me. When Mr. C said he had another one, I said, "Well how many did you hide? You got one under your hat?"

Everyone in the library cracked up.

All day today, the A-team (the administration) teased me about my foleys. I don't really mind it. I could have been written up.

Doing the Right Thing

I haven't been able to log into my account for the longest time. Anyway, here is a post I wanted to post a couple days ago. I have another post I've been working on too, but it's not ready yet.

Last week, or maybe the week before that (I get the past all mixed up these days), Mr. C walked into my class and told me that my name had been drawn for the ground breaking ceremony. (By the time the kids I have now are in 8th grade, we will be in a new building.) The principal has asked that we nominate people to attend, and I had nominated our team leader.

Last year, like me, she was a new teacher to the school. However, unlike me, she has been teaching for about ten years. So for her, it was a transition. She quickly caught on and began to create an environment that I was really comfortable with. She’d always check up on me when she hadn’t seen me making jokes or I’d been hiding in my room too much. This year, as team leader, she has done that and more. She makes our meeting useful and fun by keeping us on track and having some sort of door prize drawing.

So when Mr. C told me that she had drawn her name and how much she wanted to go, I knew what I had to do. I didn’t tell him immediately, but later during the day sent him an e-mail asking if she could take my place. At the end of the day, the principal sent out an e-mail naming the teachers that would be going to the ceremony.

She was confused since she’d drawn my name and neither Mr. C nor I had said anything to her. During d-hall duty, a lady walked in asking for a student, and I walked her to the office so that someone could page her daughter. When I walked in, Shelly was standing in Mr. C’s office. Upon seeing me, she said, “You didn’t have to do that!” and gave me a big bear hug. I knew right then, I had done the right thing.

Two Posts from Last Night

Post #1: "All Growed Up"

I had one of those moments today that let me know that I’m grown up, even though I feel as if I’m still only 21. It all started when I invited my mom, sister, and brother-in-law over for breakfast yesterday.

When Dan the Man’s alarm clock went off at 9:00 AM, I couldn’t go back to sleep because I kept thinking, “I have to peel the papas for the papas con chorizo. What a dumbass, I should have bought some pan or more chorizo last night. I should probably go get some orange juice and my mom’s lechita*.”

Finally, I got out of bed and started prepping for their arrival. I refried some refried canned beans, made the papas con chorizo, scrambled some eggs, made some coffee, and warmed up some tortillas. It was as I did all of the above that I realized that I’m all “growed-up.”

It was kind of nice. It made me think of the days when we’d go over to my oldest sister’s house. She always had, and has, something to offer us as does Gabi. I still have a ways to go, like we still need to get a real living room set, and a bigger place, like a house would be nice. But it’s still kind of cool that I can actually play host. It lets me put to use all the info I take in while watching the Food Network.
*My mom loves drinking her coffee with Hazelnut flavored creamer. She’s been known to carry around a small container with it to restaurants and her day care.

Post #2: Obligatory New Year's Post/Writing While Listening to John Mayer's Continuum

After the aforementioned breakfast, we sat around the living room reading the Saturday edition of the Sunday paper. I came across an article by Ellen DeGeneres about New Year’s resolutions titled “My no-fail guide to New Year’s resolutions (…and do-overs)” that made me think of the upcoming resolution frenzy.

One thing she advised is that “resolutions don’t always have to be about fixing what’s wrong with you. You can use them to celebrate what’s right with you. And, a lot of times, what you think is right with you is exactly the thing that is wrong with you. For example: People who love to be tan.”

Another bit of valuable advice is her recommendation for writing your resolutions. She recommends “writing the list in lemon juice on parchment paper, which makes it invisible to the naked eye unless you hold a candle behind it…[because] it makes you feel like a pirate.”

Although most of her advice is tongue-in-cheek, I think some of it valuable. So this year, I’m resolving to honestly work on my writing. My first step? I’m registering for a writing class.

I’ve filled out the registration form, written out the check, and stamped and sealed the envelope. It’s a fiction class offered to area teachers. There is a bit of a problem because first class takes place on January 27th, the same day as one of my staff developments, but I’ll find a way to make up the staff development. Last year, I was unable to do the memoir class because of the PDAS exam and study sessions. I promised myself that next time I would make it happen.

Other than that, I don’t think I’m going to make any other resolutions. Yes, I need to eat better and exercise, but that’s going to happen because my body is asking me to do it. It’s been giving me some funky signals. I also should probably resolve to be more organized and quit procrastinating, but honestly, that’s something I always work on. Sometimes, I do really well and other times I slack off. I’m also not going to resolve to be a better teacher because if I need to do this, I probably should not be teaching. When I signed the dotted line on my contract last May, I made this promise.

For the first time in a very long time, I’m actually looking forward to it. I’ll be spending the evening in the company of my beloved family laughing and sharing. I hope your New Year’s Eve and New Year’s Day is great, and that 2007 brings you many blessings.

Cultural Experiences

Cultural Experience #1 Smashed Peanut Shells

A couple weeks ago, Dan the Man asked, “What’s one place you’ve wanted to go eat and haven’t?”

“Hmmm,” I replied. The truth is that we go out to eat often. Something about coming home to un-defrosted meat or having to stop by Kroger to pick up two or three things that dissuades me from cooking. I find myself second guessing my cooking skills wondering if it was me who used to cook all these wonderful things like lasagna, enchiladas, spaghetti, and gnocchi.

After some time, I finally answered with Texas Roadhouse. I thought back to the conversation at one of my co-worker’s wedding and remembered all the raving my friend Mari did about that place. Also, when I do cook, I try to stay away from steaks because I’m awesome at drying out a beautiful cut of meat for fear or salmonella or e-coli. So this suggestion excited Dan the Man.

After watching the massacre of a book on Sunday (see prior entry), we headed to the Texas Roadhouse. It was quite an experience. I can’t remember being at a place that has barrels of peanuts and allows you to throw the shells on the ground. I thought that was an Aggie thing, but apparently, it’s also a Pasadena thing.

“Does that bother you? Would that make you not come back?” asked Dan the Man.

“The peanut shells don’t bother me; I don’t like their food.”

The waitress was short with us. Dan the Man didn’t think so, but I felt rushed when I was placing my order. She also set down my tea refill to hard on the table, and I really didn’t like that she brought out my salad and held it in front of me until I moved the plate I was using for my appetizer. I guess I’m officially a restaurant snob.

Cultural Experience #2 Mi Tienda

Being on vacation allows for a lot of things like cleaning, shopping, watching Ellen, and cooking. The past couple of days, I have reacquainted myself with the kitchen. I didn’t cook Monday because we went shopping on the other side of town. Tuesday, I heated up some nacho cheese that I’d frozen a couple weeks ago. On Wednesday, I made some chili, and today, I didn’t really know what to make.

I was watching Ellen as I finished addressing our Christmas cards (yeah, I know they’re late) and was suddenly inspired when Selma Hayek showed Ellen how to prepare and eat a grasshopper taco. Although I would not eat grasshoppers, I do love me some tacos of any kind really. I’ve given up on the idea of carnitas because I haven’t found a place that sells decent carnitas tacos. Mexican food around these parts is strange to me. When I ask for a taco, I expect corn tortillas but always get flour. Once when I ordered a gordita at a Mexican restaurant, I got this thick tortilla cut all the way through with tons of greasy melted cheese.

Anyway, I decided that my goal for the day would be to make some yummy tacos with maybe some fajita meat. Since I had to go drop off the Christmas cards at the post office, I made my way to Mi Tienda. I tried to go to this store once before, but there was not a single empty parking space. This time, I had better luck.

It took forever to get through the parking lot though because there were so many people walking to and from cars. Getting into the store was also a challenge because there were people standing around looking at signs to the various produce that was at the entrance of the store.

I wound my way around the produce section, and the bachatas and cumbias playing on the intercom made me want to dance. As I walked through the store, there was young Latinas standing around helping people. There were also people handing out free samples for Cacique cheese, yogurt, tortillas, and various other items.

I don’t know that I would go back and shop there always, but it was fun. No one spoke Spanish to me in the store. They just assumed I was a “gringa” in the Latin grocery store. I let them believe it too. I guess it was just one of those days.

Why going to the movies with me is annoying...

I can't take the suspense.

We went to see Eragon today and I couldn't contain myself. Halfway through the movie I said, "I hate this! I'm going home!"

I didn't get up and leave, but I did fidget throughout the rest of the movie. I pulled on my hair and cursed at myself for not having read the book.

If they decide to make a movie out of Eldest, I'm definitely reading the book.

Pics

This is the hallway. Don't know if I mentioned before that we wrote the kid's names on the snowflakes. Also, can you tell what year this school was bult? Thank goodness we're getting a new building in a year or so.



Here is the showcase we worked on for almost a week. I think it turned out pretty nice, eventhough those damn snowflakes shocked me. It was my fault though. I was putting them up on a Friday afternoon and not thinking and I started stapling away while they were plugged in. Anyway, I couldn't get a full frontal shot because there was a wall in my way.

Books!

Christmas shopping has been rather tedious this year. Of course, there are some people that are very easy, like Dan the Man’s mom, my mom, and my nephews. But my teenaged nieces and one year old niece are really hard to shop for. So is my Secret Santa person. I hardly know this woman. When I drew her name, I thought of throwing it back in the bag and doing it again, but they came by in the middle of class. I quickly decided not to because I had too many witnesses.

When I was talking to my mom the other day, she said, “Jorge dijo que quiere libros para la niña.”

This was the best thing I’d heard all season. Books! Someone was actually asking for them. A gift that I would really enjoy buying.

“¿Deveras?

“Si, dijo que le gusta leerle a la niña. Pero que nomas tiene unos cuantos libros asi que se los lee muchas veces.”

Yesterday, I ventured out to buy books for Little G. Since shopping for all the others took about an hour or so, I figured that I’d be done in time to swing by the craft store to look for some stockings and still have time to get home and record the Razorback upset, I mean game, for Dan the Man.

However, once I did get to the bookstore, I realized I may not make it home in time. As usual, I was drawn to every table set up along the aisle. I must admit, I went to Barnes and Noble because it’s down the street and because I was getting an extra teacher’s discount. Anyway, I started off with a stack of paperback copies of the Bernstein Bears, but after much deliberation, I ended up with the following:

The Paper Bag Princess (teaching her about Feminism can never begin to early)
Five Little Monkeys (I remember discovering this book in kindergarten.)
Where the Wild Things Are (I never really read this book until today, but I know it’s a classic.)
Dora’s Book of Manners (Daniel sarcastically said that all Latinos have to like Dora which only got him a nasty glare from Bandit and I.)

My family doesn’t have many traditions, but it’s nice to see that my brother is trying to keep one alive. My mom always tried to show us the importance of literacy. Books were a treasure in our home. They were not to be written on or thrown. They were to be kept in a place where they would not get damaged.

All Things Winter

I’ve been sitting her with a blank document for a long time. I had the urge to write, and then, just like that, it was gone like snowflakes on El Paso pavement.

My life seems to have gone back to normalcy. It was good to go back to work even though I hate waking up early. I enjoy having time off, but I think I enjoy working a lot more.

I was very busy this week. My neighbor across the hall and I decided to take it upon ourselves to decorate the 6th grade hall. My mentor, who used to kick this off, is now teaching 7th grade and so she got their butts in gear instead of ours. Anywho, it took us the whole week to get lights strung all the way down the hall and tie snowflakes to the lights. We also redid the bulletin showcase with a winter theme. We’re not completely done. I’ve yet to make a sign that says “6th Grade Winter Wonderland,” seeing as how we have many JWs this year. I’ll take pictures once it’s all done and post them up here.

Bandit has become my new best friend. I think it’s due to the cold weather. Instead of hiding under the couch or in the corner under the bookshelf until Dan the Man gets home, he now cuddles up next to me where ever I happen to be. I imagine that once it starts to warm up around here, he’ll go back to his old ways.

There is a flurry of thoughts going on in my mind, but I can’t seem to get out in a coherent manner. I think I just need to stop listening to John Mayer. I forgot what his music does to me.

Melancolia

I don’t know how people do it, the people that are far away from their families. It’s difficult. Pictures and phone calls can only take you so far. I sit here on the eve before Thanksgiving with a heavy heart. While I know the reason for her not coming is legit, understandable, and is just the thing a selfless person like her would do, it still saddens me.

I was really looking forward to this Thanksgiving because not only would I have my sister and her hubby over for dinner, I would also have a very special guest: my mom.

I was beside myself since she gave me the news. I went out and bought her craft things like ribbons and flowers and little red bows that could come in handy. We bought her some Mickey Mouse window clings.

I wrapped up the presents I bought her for Christmas, so she could see that despite being on the other side of this gigantic state, she’s still important. Only to find out last night, she’s not coming. I know that she’s needed there now, but I can’t help feeling the sucker punch to the gut and think “why do I have to pay for their mistakes?”

I’m very thankful to still have her around. I’m not thankful to having her so far away.

The Case of the Missing Turkey

This year has allowed me to get to know my colleagues a lot better and has forced me to re-examine prior notions about a few of them. It has not, however, made me change my mind about Marla. We’ve always been cool. We’re very similar in many ways, and best of all, we can read it each other really well. This of course, lends itself to other types of interactions like sharing secrets, being there for each other when we need to vent, and playing jokes on one another.

This is why, when I came back to work on Thursday, after being gone for a training on Wednesday, there was a slight chance that she was the one that’d taken my Gil, and left in his place a letter that read:

Help! I think they’re going to put me in an oven. I hiding in a closet. Wait, I
think I hear somebody coming…oh no! Hurry!

Now, upon reading this, I examined the handwriting and thought of possible suspects; but quickly dismissed those possibilities because I knew they wouldn’t make such a glaring subject verb agreement. I was really blaming it on one of the math teachers, but not Marla. This teacher would always saunter by and call me “Ms. Peacock.”

The day went on; I had to teach class and could not take time out to look for my poor Gil. I told my first class about the turkeynapping and they, like me, automatically accused all of the people on the sixth grade team. They told me they’d keep an eye out for him.

Homeroom time came around. Although these kids can drive me nuts with their talking sometimes, I love them and they love me. Thursday, it was crystal.

“Ms. What happened to your turkey?”

“It’s gone.”

“Gone? What do you mean?”

“Someone kidnapped him and left this in his place,” I said as I held the note before them.

“What! How could they do that?”

“I bet you it was Ms. B!”

“No, I think I saw it in Mr. O’s class.”

“It was Mr. C and Mr. A because they were begging us to buy them feathers yesterday!”

“Well, whoever it was, I think I need to make some posters so people know I’m looking for him.”

“We’ll help you Ms!”

Within five minutes, I had a slew of “Missing Turkey” flyers and a crew of kids putting up posters in the hallway.

During lunch, I continued giving everyone a hard time. Calling them all “turkey snatchers,” and saying, “It’s okay; I’ve got a lot of little detectives on my side.”

The science wing people hadn’t heard and so they asked what was going on. As I told them, Marla asked, “Well, what did the notes say?”

“Notes? You mean there’s more? How do you know? It was you, wasn’t it?”

I don’t remember her reply, but I know her answer didn’t satisfy me.

As we were walking to the cafeteria to report for after lunch duty, I found a note in my mailbox. This one read:

Help me! It’s getting really hot in here. I heard them talking about stuffing
me…please find me!

We walked into the cafeteria to find Mr. A, the counselor, holding up
one of the signs my kids had made telling the 6th grade diners about my turkey. As I walked
around the cafeteria, the kids were all calling my name and telling me who they
thought had taken Gil.

The rest of the day, assistant principals,
teachers, students, even the aides asked if I’d found Gil. And of course, I
always had to say no. I was starting to wonder if I would ever get him back. I
was so proud of how big his tail had gotten and I really wanted to get him
laminated.

At the end of the day, we were having a bridal shower for one
of the ladies on our team. Most of my day had been spent on preparations for
this event, but we couldn’t really put any of this up because our classes were
going to the library which is where we were hosting the shower. When the final bell of
the day rang, I rushed down to the library to finish setting up.

It wasn't until we had everything set up, that I remembered I’d left the napkins in my
classroom. I ran up the stairs and found one my students, who is also a Watt
Watcher for Student Council, writing on the “missing turkey poster” posted on my
door. (She’s the sweetest kid too. My pick for student of the month)

“Ms! It was Ms. B and Mr. O! There’s Gil!” she said as she
pointed toward my first suspect’s classroom.

Indeed, there he was.
Hanging from Mrs. H’s flag outside her door. Mrs H. looked at me and said, “I
saw them do it but I was sworn not to tell you! I was so upset! By the way, I
should be looking shocked.”

I carefully pulled down Gil and took him to
my classroom and laid him on my desk. At last, he was safe and sound.

Feathers

Every year around Thanksgiving at school, a copy of a clip art turkey is given to each teacher. Teachers are then to color their turkey and post it on their door. During lunch, teachers and students can buy construction board feathers with “thank you” messages for teachers and students.

Monday should have been the first day that feathers were sold but because of some beauracracy flaw, they were not sold until today.

When I went to my inbox in the mailroom during my afternoon conference period, the NJHS sponsor was putting them in our boxes. We both had to be in a meeting in a few minutes, so I asked her if she needed help. “No, I’ve got them all sorted. I just need to put them in people’s boxes. You have a whole bunch.”

Of course, hearing that last part peaked my interest; so I dilly dallied around for a while in the potty room. When I came, I went to my box; and I did have a “whole bunch.” I didn’t really count them, but I had close to fifteen feathers.

Needless to say, my students made me the envy of the sixth grade team at our meeting. They joked around about how I probably bribed my kids like a former teacher at our school and how my well-feathered turkey was going to put theirs to shame.

My students’ messages were so sweet. My favorite thus far was “you are the best teacher I’ve had in all my living years.”

Coño

Thanks to the wonderful downpour and our school district being so adamant about giving our kids the best education possible, Dori, my little car, is sick.

When school let out, I went over to find out if we were staying for the Promethean board training and I heard people saying, “they said to go!” I felt frantic and grabbed my stuff and ventured out into the streams, er streets. All I wanted was to get home. I tried two streets and finally got out of the area where the school is. I would have made it home had it not been for that damn school bus that stopped. When it did, all of the water it had been pushing out of the way for me, came back onto and into my car.

I took it into the dealer and now I’m waiting to see how much my stupidity is going to cost.

Penny Cup

Reading El Chavo’s post made me reminisce about my youth. There was this one time that my mom and I had walked to El Bronco, a swapmarket, a couple of miles from where we lived. When we left, we were thirsty and hungry; so we decided to stop at the Good Times (a convenience store) to get a drink and a snack. They had some kind of deal that you could buy a drink and a hot dog for like $1.99 or something.

When the cashier rang up the total, my mom was two cents shy. The cashier was this tall guy who’d had part of his face burned, so the skin was shiny and waxy. He was always rude and never bothered making conversation like the other cashiers. On that particular day, he did a thing that would stay with me and forever place him under the jerk file in my mind. Because that day, despite there being a penny cup like the one in El Chavo’s post, he didn’t allow my mom to take the two cents she needed to complete the total. He made her give back the hot dogs and pay for the drinks.

I felt humiliated. I don’t believe there was anyone else in the store, but I know it made my mom feel really bad. Like many people, I’ve never been in the business of letting anyone humiliate or put down my mom. She got enough of that at home and at work. Why should anyone else do that to her?

For this reason, once, I was at Wal-Mart and there was this kid ahead of me buying car parts. Apparently, his car had left him stranded and he was trying to fix it enough to get home. When the cashier rang up his total, he was a short like a couple of cents, so I unzipped my wallet and gave him the money. He said thank you about ten times before he left. I thought it was no big deal, but I guess if someone had done that for my mom at the Good Times, I would have done the same.