La Dolce Vita

Haikus

2010-08-20T09:46:00.004-04:00

Morning sweet and cool
Luna cat sounds like a cow
Why is she so loud?

Sharp knife and hard roll
Rushing to make a sandwich
Wastes much time, bleeding.

Humpty Dumpty fell
But didn't see a chiro
Maybe would have helped.

In which kStyle notes that marscapone cheese is really, really good

2010-01-25T21:16:00.006-05:00

So. I gave it up again. The smack. The white stuff. The pale fairy.

White sugar.

It was pretty obvious what I needed to do post-holiday-cookies. During the days before and after Christmas, I was surfing sugar highs and lows. I had stopped attending Weight Warblers* meetings around November, and, sometime in December, I'd ditched tracking what I ate. I found I was frustrated with suggestions that low-calorie "foods" like sugar-free vanilla pudding mix prepared with nonfat yogurt were a good idea. Or that they were even FOOD. I was super-tired of eating only high-fiber bread. Bread with extra fiber? Tastes like it's been injected with extra fiber. Most of all, the system was not really working for me anymore. It was too rigid and too riddled with the mythology that egg whites cooked in the microwave/cottage cheese/skim milk are not utterly appalling even to contemplate. I stopped losing weight because the plan became unsustainable for me. (Also...personally, I don't respond well to an outside-in solution. WW is all about imposing a structured system on one's eating. I do better with an inside-out solution, and I'm finding this book incredibly useful as a result.)

But I digress.

It was actually The Husband's idea for me to ditch the refined sugar. He was direct: "2009 is shot. But starting January 1, I think you should give up sugar again."

So I did. Coincidentally, a friend who also struggles with sweet teeth gave up sugar at the same time. We formed an instant, two-person support group. We place money in a jar for each day without sugar, she saving for a massage and I for Wii Sports Resort. We remove a little money every day we slip. We allow eating sugar for one day each week.

Three weeks in, I feel wonderful. More energy! More joie de vivre! I also find that I can react very, very poorly to my one sugar day. Last Saturday, I made the most of my free day by consuming a liberal volume of hot cocoa. The next day, I experienced what can only be described as a sugar hangover. I was hungover. I had not drunk any alcohol. It was miserable.

But then--miracle of miracles--a friend who trained at CIA (cooking, not spying) and supports local, healthful, sustainable food, educated me about agave nectar, a natural, low-glycemic index sweetener. Agave tastes great in cocoa and does not give me a hangover.

The strangest part is that refined sugar now tastes way too sweet to me. Yesterday I made the rookie error of grocery shopping hungry, which led to accepting sugary food samples. They were painfully sweet.

On the flip side, while The Husband and I prepared dinner this evening, I bit into a chickpea and declared my surprise at how sweet it was! Were chickpeas this sweet? It was so sweet! Delightfully so! I'm not sure that Husband tasted this incredible chickpea sweetness, which makes me believe it's another palate change courtesy of eschewing my personal smack.

And marscapone cheese! Oh dear, it is sweet and creamy and wonderful! Does everyone know about this?

*Fictitious name, because one cannot be too careful.

Proper Tools Make a Difference

2009-11-11T09:45:00.002-05:00

Now that the husband has finished his PhD, we have more steady income to kick around. What have we been buying? Electronics? Fabulous vacations? Villas in the Alps?

No, no, and...no.

We've been replacing various worn-out necessities. First came the new vacuum, a few days after I realized that our old vacuum (purchased in '96 for $60) was spewing dust and pet dander into the air, like a small Mount Vesuvius. It was not trapping a single particle. After a bit of research, we settled on an upright vacuum with a HEPA filter. We did not go to the super-expensive models, but stayed on the end of economy and quality. We placed our order online and waited.

One day I came home from work to find a tall, vacuum-sized package leaning against our unit's door. It was like Christmas in October. What a difference the new vacuum makes. Once we uncovered the carpet from mounds of fur and dust, we rediscovered that it is not, in fact, a dull, grayed brown, but rather a pleasant, light beige. Our carpet feels springy and soft under our feet. The condo smells better.

Next, it was time to replace my poor, ancient car, the Super Tomato. She was a red '96 Geo Prizm. I purchased her in 2001, when I began needing a car to commute. She was a salvage--a reconstruction from a big accident--and she had 67,000 miles. When I retired the Super Tomato in October, she had a grand total of 155,300 miles. Her paint was unevenly faded. Her tires had long lost their hubcaps. She required frequent brake and alignment work and more new tires than a car should; as her damaged frame aged, it began to tilt and sag, no longer keeping its reconstructed shape. "Metal fatigue," my mom called it. Letting go was hard, though, as we'd spend a good 88,300 miles together. If we averaged 50 miles/hour, that's 1,766 hours, or solid 73.58 days.

The new car is a 2008 Kia Spectra. This car had been repossessed from the previous owner with a mere 800 miles on it. What with These Economic Times, and what with Kia's reputation not catching up to its improved quality, I got a good deal. The new car has an iPod jack, a remote starter, hubcaps, and a uniform, deep red coat of paint. She likes to drive over 50 mph, a speed which made the Super Tomato shudder and protest. I arrive at places faster than I should, because 80 mph feels in this car like what 40 mph felt like in the old car.

Finally, to the kitchen. After some reading about GERMS and HYGIENE, I replaced the sponges with dish cloths (which my husband declines to use, but whatever). Then, frustrated with my inability to find replacement sponges for our ancient mop, I bought a new mop. Bringing the old mop to the garbage, I discovered that the metal sheet between the sponge and the handle was completely filled with rust. I mopped with our handy-dandy new mop, and found that the kitchen floor is not, in fact, a dull, grayed brown, but rather off-white with subtle faux marbling.

What is the takeaway message? I suppose that the proper tools make a huge difference. And what of the people who can never afford to replace that mop, car, or vacuum? Maybe their lives are just a little more frustrating. No amount of effort can compensate for a vacuum that just doesn't work or a mop filled with rust.

Oh hello

2009-11-09T16:37:00.002-05:00

How are all y'all? I don't work at a computer anymore. There are no little breaks to jot a few sentences for the blog. Now I must take breaks the old-fashioned way, gazing out the window in a little world of my imagining.

Changing my career has created small, unforeseen changes such as this one, little ripples of different patterns in my days. There is no vending machine to contend with at work anymore, but now lurks the temptation of government-subsidized cookies in the cafeteria. My workdays are shorter, but without a moment of downtime or solitude. I have already caught--and survived--a terrible sinus infection and an even worse stomach bug. I find myself explaining things that seem obvious to my short charges whose forebrains are not fully developed: Why it's a bad idea to throw sharp pencils down a stairwell, why the teachers get to aggravated when you never bring your bilingual dictionary to class and constantly ask them to explain unfamiliar words.

The scenery of my week is completely different, as I commute to a town 31 miles away down a fast highway. It's a pretty little suburb, a newer town imitating the quaint, New England look of the authentic older towns. My boss is irritating in a whole new way I have not experienced before, despite the varied idiosyncracies and evils of past supervisors. It's amazing how many ways exist to mismanage. But it's okay, I don't see her often, only at the meetings she reschedules on a whim, never sticking to the planned biweekly schedule.

I should drive 25 miles the other direction to class now. The driving is wearying, but at least I have a new car in which to do it. I feel safer, and I get places faster.

My English, Eh, She Is Getting Worse

2009-09-11T13:50:00.008-04:00

A surprise of working with ESL students all day is that, as their English improves, mine seems to worsen. Perhaps it's because I simplify my own speech for comprehensibility, or because I hear so much not-quite-correct English all day. Maybe it's the distraction of my brain echoing everything I say back to me in Portu-Spanglish. Por exemplo, when I say, "Me, too," I literally hear, "Yo, tambien" in the back of my head. When I ask, "What else?" I hear, "Que mais?" in Portuguese, and then correct it to "Que mas?" for the Spanish-speakers, and, finally, realize that I am at home where the only languages are English and Cat; no Portuguese, no Spanish. My students are not here needing translation. The cats communicate well enough through body language and insistent meows.

Today, after I said something with a very strange turn-of-phrase during our lunch break, I asked the experienced ESL teacher, "Does teaching ESL make your English worse?" She replied, "Yes."

Perhaps I should go read some beautifully constructed prose in English, or watch a well-written Hollywood film, or view a BBC production. This development is somewhat alarming.

For now, my good friends, I hope you to have weekend great and very much fun. Si?

Namaskar Again

2009-08-18T14:54:00.003-04:00

I stopped going to yoga about two years ago. I had practiced hatha yoga off and on since about 1996, and I was just tired of it. The classes were not giving me that blissy, open feeling anymore. Instead of emerging refreshed and renewed from shavasana, I was spacey and sleepy, mind still running. I thought that maybe I had changed and yoga wasn't relevant to my current life.

I've been working mornings these past few weeks, including one day each weekend. This schedule prevented me from getting to Nia classes. The commute to the tutoring gig were making my neck and lower back--really, my whole spine--stiff and sore. I decided to drop in on an afternoon yoga class.

Ninety minutes later, I emerged into the summer sunlight refreshed and renewed. I felt like both body and mind had gotten a luxurious massage. It was as if the great big sky inside me had opened up again.

Maybe it was a fluke, but I decided to return to the same class the next week...and the next. For three weeks now I've been delving back into yogic practice, even pushing aside the coffee table to practice asana in my little living room.

I've realized that yoga was never the problem. The problem was the particular yoga class I had been attending two years ago--and its teacher. Because I liked the teacher personally, I did not make the connection that her teaching style was not a match for me.

I'd felt cluttered and crowded in her studio, which was her former dining room. I felt crowded by all the bodies and personalities crammed in that space. I felt crowded by the sort of celebrity status this teacher had among her loyal follower-students, and by her overwhelming presence in her studio-cum-home. I felt irritated by the inconvenience of parking in the teacher's driveway, where I was always blocked in after class by the students who had arrived to class 10 minutes late and would leave 10 minutes late.

There were other inconveniences. There was no drop-in option; one must commit to eight weeks of class at a particular day and time. Miss a class? The teacher would email to ask if all is well and offer a make-up session. It was too much. There was no physical or mental space.

But all of this crowding is mere inconvenience. The real problem was the cluttered nature of the yogic practice there. This teacher is rather a New Ager. She loved reciting affirmations at us as we relaxed into the postures. We visualized clouds of light. She talked about mystical things, like how advanced yogis can make themselves invisible. I just wanted to look into my mind. I didn't want any New Age fanfare.

There was a certain clutter, or disorder, in the way she structured the physical practice, as well. We did wildly different things from one week to the next. She would throw Kundalini practices into class--and, although I tried to be open-minded, I hated them. They made me feel hot and dizzy.

After about a year and a half with this teacher, I could tell that I was not growing; that, in fact, the practice was somehow eroding my energy. I didn't yet know why, although I could list the inconveniences surrounding parking and overly-chatty classmates.

It's my new yoga class that has helped me see the difference. Rather than pouring frothy affirmations into our minds, the teacher asks us to watch our minds, clear them out, find relaxed resolve. Although the room is full, physically crowded, it does not feel at all crowded. This teacher allows us the physical and mental space to expand, to ground and to open. It is an excellent yoga class and I am grateful to have found it.

A Brief List of Things to which Russians Are Apparently Allergic

2009-08-11T18:08:00.001-04:00

Air conditioning
Iced drinks
Sandwiches
August weather in New England
Admitting they don't understand something

Please shoot me now

2009-05-10T20:05:00.003-04:00

So, I have to write a week of lesson plans using this incredibly complicated model for my graduate school class. Here's the thing: I've spent literally ALL DAY on five lessons, and I'm not even close to finished. Nor have I made any of the fancy supplementary materials my lessons call for. If this is what my future holds, I will shoot myself. In the head.

I think that maybe it won't be this bad in real life. I won't have an incredibly detail-oriented professor grading my plans, for one thing. For another, I'll write them so that I can understand them, not so that my detail-oriented professor can understand them.

It's possible I'll have a principal who wants to see all my plans. Who knows.

The way I write lesson plans in real life, so far: I make a few notes. Then I teach. The end. But then, I have very few students in a pull-out situation. A giant, sheltered-instruction science class would be different.

Perhaps I should avoid teaching a giant, sheltered-instruction science class.

I'm trying very hard not to feel sorry for myself, but I'm failing. It's mostly panic: Is this my future? Hours upon hours of writing lesson plans?

Great Things about Asheville

2009-04-22T22:19:00.002-04:00

We're thoroughly enjoying our little holiday in Asheville, NC. Here is a list of some of the great things about Asheville:

Malaprop's Bookstore has a section devoted to banned books. In most of these books is a card describing where it is banned and why. It's good to be reminded that reading can be radical.
Southern cooking, OMG. Mac and cheese is listed with "vegetables" on many menus. Everything is fresh, fatty, and good.
Lots of Nia. I plan to take a class tomorrow.
A giant arboretum designed by Frederick Law Olmstead.
Mountain trails. We plan to do some hiking tomorrow.
Vibrant, artsy downtown.
Live bluegrass! You may recall how I adore bluegrass.

Ciao for now

2009-04-15T20:13:00.002-04:00

I'm leaving for vacation on Friday. When I return from vacation, I'll have a perfect job for the rest of the school year: subbing for a middle school ESL teacher who'll be on maternity leave. I am scared shitless about the fact that I have landed my dream job, and, even worse, they are really excited to have me. High expectations always lead to disappointment. On the plus side, the real teacher will be back in the fall and therefore I cannot do too much damage as an impostor.

I also keep having nightmares that we miss our plane for vacation.

I'm not sure what's wrong with me. I intellectually realize that vacation and dream job are causes for celebration, but I'm something of an anxious, weepy mess.

Let's blame it on the fifth grade class I covered today. We watched a movie of Where the Red Fern Grows. In case you've forgotten, the dogs die at the end. Still. And kStyle bawls. Still.

Quote of the Decade

2009-04-07T17:08:00.000-04:00

All religions are true, but none are literal.
--Joseph Campbell

Pesonality in the Classroom

2009-04-05T19:47:00.009-04:00

Bill asked an excellent question:

From anecdotal evidence, it seems the teachers who are both subject smart and have personality are the ones who make a difference (and are fondly remembered). Conversely, those with bland-neutral personality or come off as negative never get a fair shake or remembrance from students.

Is teacher personality ever discussed?

I cannot speak for all education programs. ESL is a little marginal, and therefore wonderfully quirky.

We don't frame the discussion in terms of "personality," but rather in terms of "affective learning." Affective learning means making the classroom a low-stress, creative, humorous environment; bringing affect into instruction with teacher humor and creativity; and encouraging the students to be their own creative, individual selves. It means giving the students creative work in which they can construct their knowledge as individuals and as a group. It means giving the students some outlet for personal reflection, like journaling, and, if possible, connecting with students' families and communities.

Of course, all students would benefit if we gave affect some breathing room in the classroom. Affective learning is especially important for our English language learners, though, because they are making HUGE EMOTIONAL adjustments to their new identities and cultures. Have you ever studied a foreign language? Have you noticed, perhaps, that you sort of become someone else when speaking the new language? This person is still you, but this Spanish- or Portuguese- or Khmer- or Mandarin-speaking you might think about the world a little differently, and by definition expresses himself differently than the English-speaking you. Imagine that phenomenon times a hundred, plus pressure, perhaps, from a misunderstanding society to abandon your native language, plus pressure from your parents to maintain your native language, plus grappling with a new culture and how much of it to adopt. At certain times, you would be a bundle of emotions. The teacher needs to support you in this journey and to demonstrate the value of your culture and language.

On top of all that, Stephen Krashen tells us that anxiety is a barrier to language learning, and some theorists whose names evade me...Well, they say that imagination is the way to motivate a student to learn a new language. The native tongue already provides everything the student needs: security, communication, relationships, and so on. But the second tongue, oh, that can become a place of freedom and dreams, of whimsy and fun.

I think we frame this in terms of "affect" because affect can be changed or adjusted. Asking a teacher to alter her "personality" would be hurtful. But, we can ask teachers to change how they present their personalities, inviting them to share warmth and humor and imagination with students.

Writing

2009-04-05T19:13:00.004-04:00

Hello, Blog Friends!

I miss writing here and seeing your witty replies. I'm afraid I've been pounding out so many papers reflecting on education, second language acquisition, and my teaching philosophy that I am all written out. I'm assuming that these topics may not be of much interest here, and also I wouldn't feel right posting a paper verbatim. However, I would be more than happy to answer any questions you might have on these topics. They're on the brain and the language is at my fingertips anyway. I would entirely understand if none of this is of interest, however.

Other random notes:
-Going on vacation in two weeks! Yaaaaaaaaaaaay!
-Been feeding the cats wet food and they LOVE it! Their coats look shiner, too.
-The goldfinches are turning a vibrant yellow.
-I'm planning to read Jung. It seems that everywhere I look lately, I see Carl Jung looking back at me and waving. "Hey, kStyle," says Mr. Jung, "Let's talk." The Portable Jung is sitting on my coffee table right now.
-I saw the first crocuses--with blooms!--earlier this week, and the first yellow daffodil flowers today.

I hope you are all well.

Word,
'Style

HAR harharhar HAR har

2009-03-31T09:57:00.002-04:00

Atheists reading dramatic excerpts from Christian Fundamentalist message boards. OMG LOL!

Spring dreams

2009-03-25T15:49:00.008-04:00

My dreams turn odd every spring. Chinese medicine says this is because Wood Qi becomes active, and Wood Qi rules the Liver, and the Liver houses the Hun, or the part of the soul that wanders through the dream world during sleep. Here are a few things my Hun has been doing while I slumber.

I'm sitting on the couch at my parents' house with one of my shiatsu teachers. We are philosophizing about life. Luna Cat joins us and her eyes glow blue. White curtains billow in a breeze. Sun shines through a skylight.

I'm on my college campus. I need to meet my friend for our Weight Watchers meeting. (In real life, I do drive with a friend to WW. I did not know this friend during college.) We walk across the green campus, past the red brick campus center, to the meeting. The scale says I gained back all the 15 pounds I'd lost. I'm upset. I drink a lemonade, but I don't know whether it was before or after the meeting.

There were more dreams, jumbles of languages and colors and events, but their threads dissolved with morning. Have you had any dreams lately?

P.S. I just remembered another one. I was having an affair with L.L. Cool J. We went to lots of clubs together.

Happy Equinox!

2009-03-20T17:41:00.000-04:00

May you have balance today and the joy of spring's renewal through the season. Bunnies and chickies and eggs, oh my!

Head like a bruised melon.

2009-03-19T10:25:00.002-04:00

Oh, my head hurts. Water, ibuprofen, antihistamine, steroid nasal spray, and caffeine have all been powerless to help. A friend proposed that the sudden low-pressure front might be the culprit. Hey, that WOULD explain why I've always hated low-pressure days.

Weather! STOP IT!

Happy Defense Day!

2009-03-17T08:04:00.000-04:00

And St. Patrick's, too.

I mean not to neglect.

2009-03-16T10:27:00.002-04:00

Hello, blog peeps!

I'm here. How are you? I'm sorry I've been out of touch lately. The spring weather pulls me out of doors, or keeps me spring cleaning when I'm within walls. My husband defends his PhD tomorrow--5 years' work distilled into 1 hours' talk. My main mission in life has been ensuring that he eats enough during these last few chaotic weeks. The cats are well. The backyard birds (and lone squirrel) are scarfing up the black oil sunflower seed. My thesis...Well, it's as neglected as my blog. I've been brewing Papua New Guinea coffee in my fancy new French press, and this morning I'm enjoying it with just sugar, no cream. I like my coffee smooth. I've also been reading a lot of novels.

So that's the non-news news from here. What's going on with you?

Birdfeeder magic

2009-03-07T14:16:00.007-05:00

A whole mess of birds has found the feeder: tufted titmice, chirpy little chickadees, and two smaller birds who might be sparrows. Some of them look almost skinny, which makes me very glad we set out food.

I was looking more closely at the two little sparrows just now, wondering at their burnished, golden color. Usually sparrows are just drab. Then I suddenly recognized the pair, like you might recognize a friend wearing an exceptionally good Halloween costume. They are goldfinches, dull without their mating plumage. I hope that they stick around and we get a good highlighter-yellow show out our window this spring.

UPDATE: A nuthatch arrived today! He's shy and tends to perch on the side of the feeder that faces away from the house. The chickadees are not so modest.

UPDATE 2: A male house finch has joined in the feasting! He's very handsome with his rosy breast and throat.

Running on caffeine, I feel judgmental.

2009-03-06T15:17:00.002-05:00

It's been a busy week. I'm very caffeinated and slightly sleep-deprived and definitely under-exercised and fantastically over-sugared, all of which conspire to make me slightly edgier than usual. Not in a cool, Grrrrrl with tattoos way, unfortunately; I'm simply more irritable. When I'm more irritable, I'm more likely to think judgmental thoughts. Thoughts such as...

High school boys are such odd creatures. What's with those teachers you hear about who have affairs with their students? There is something SERIOUSLY OFF about those teachers. Sitting here as the substitute, looking at the sea of pimply, slouchy young men dressed sloppily in various shades of Dreary (faded navy, gray, and black tee shirts abound), I can't help but think, "Wow, these are half-formed human beings."

High school.

2009-03-05T16:41:00.005-05:00

The kids were overall quite well-behaved and conscientious, but I reckon I don't much care for teenage boys. They seem to believe that 1. they know everything, and 2. everyone else is stoopid. The self-righteousness, oh the self-righteousness!

Of course, many of the boys were fine. It's partly that I saw a lot of Rich Hippie Indignation (super-mellow persona below which lies a super-rigid, self-righteous personality), and I had more than my fill of that in college and shiatsu school.

A different middle school.

2009-03-04T21:28:00.002-05:00

As you know, my blog friends, I've been honing my substitute teaching skills in a rather tough, inner-city school, a school where I must play the Bad Cop often and with feeling. It's like prison: Shank the first kid you see or you become their bitch. Never waver for a microsecond. Do not pause during class. Set up your authority at the door, before they even enter the classroom.

On Tuesday, I substituted for an inclusion SPED (special ed) teacher at the middle school in a nice, affluent, disturbingly lily-white, suburb. This meant that--for the morning, before I got pulled in to cover, what else, 7th grade ELA--I went to other teachers' classrooms and helped out a few kids while the classroom teacher taught.

In the first class, I found another substitute covering for the classroom teacher. The soft-spoken woman has been subbing for nine years while she figures out what else to do. Got news for you, honey--after nine years, you're no longer deciding. You're a lifetime substitute teacher.

She did not assert any control over the classroom as the students entered. A deep feeling of anxiety swelled in my gut. She repeatedly paused for minutes at a time to decipher the neatly typed lesson plans. Once she actually sat back down at the desk to reread the plans. I was panicking internally, scanning the room for signs of revolution. They are going to crucify her, I thought. Her head will be on a stick within two minutes! I began plotting my own escape or ascension to control for when the pandemonium broke out. My course of action would depend on my proximity to the door when the riot began.

But then? Nothing. The kids took their seats and they waited to hear the instructions. They listened and then began working. And then! And then--the teacher simply plopped down at the big desk for an hour while the kids silently worked on their vocabulary, and I occasionally circled the classroom, offering help.

Later that day, when the 7th grade ELA teacher was thanking me profusely for taking over her classes so she could pick up her feverish toddlers, she kept assuring me that I didn't have to teach the lesson. I was like, why am I here if not to teach? She seemed gratefully surprised.

I realized two very important things that day:
1. I've been cutting my teeth at a very tough place to be a substitute, and
2. Apparently other substitutes don't actually teach.

I would be lying

2009-03-04T21:02:00.001-05:00

If I said I weren't nervous about spending the next 2 days subbing in a high school. I haven't done high school since my subbing days as a college student, and it did not always go well.

At least it's not in Lowell!

Antibiotics are not candy!!!

2009-03-03T22:27:00.006-05:00

This week, my sinus pressure has come up in conversation a couple times. My blocked left ear, friend of the blocked left sinus, has caused me to ask people to repeat themselves. Sometimes, if I've had to ask for multiple repetitions, I smile apologetically and explain about my ear, and then maybe the sinus comes up.

Just so you don't think I'm yakking about my sinus pain left and right. No, my dear blog friends, I save this special love for you. Yes, I do.

Anyway, two people--people from very different circles, one I met in college and one I just met at WW tonight--have said, "Why don't you just take some antibiotics? You can just call your doctor and ask for them. Your doctor will probably write you a prescription over the phone."

Oh, dear me.

Because, once again, I am more polite to people I see face-to-face than to you, my blog friends, I demure by saying, "My digestion is very sensitive to antibiotics, so I try not to take them." This response seems to cause the other person confusion, which, in turn, causes me confusion. Do people not know/realize/care that antibiotics wreak havoc on digestion?

Given that I have little restraint with you, my blog friends, I now present a list called

Reasons Why kStyle Tries to Avoid Antibiotics:

1. Most antibiotics kill your happy digestive bacteria, a.k.a. gut flora, along with their intended target bacteria. The gut flora live in your gut and help you digest your food. Without them, grave indigestion can result. It can take a long time and a lot of conscious effort to make the gut a happy home again and then recolonize it with gut flora. As an extreme example, many women I've worked with in my shiatsu practice who have IBS report that it developed after a potent round of antibiotics for something like Lyme Disease. (NOTE: Lyme Disease is a disease for which, yes, I would take antibiotics in a heartbeat.)

2. More generally, antibiotics throw your whole microscopic ecosystem off whack. The "good" or "friendly" bacteria--which live in all kinds of places, like your digestive system, nose, skin, vagina--compete with the bad nasty bacteria, viruses, and yeast, thus boosting your immunity. For example, the drug Cipro bypasses digestion and heads straight for the genitourinary tract, making it a valuable drug for UTI infections. However, many, many women taking Cipro also end up with a yeast infection, because Cipro kills the friendly bacteria that keep naturally occurring vaginal yeast in check. The yeast overgrow, the woman becomes very itchy in her privates.

(Don't believe me about #1 and 2? See here.)

3. Antibiotics are not candy! These are DRUGS. These are drugs that we want to work should we have Lyme, pneumonia, or bubonic plague. I want antibiotics to shock and awe my system should they need to do so. I have no desire to build up a resistance by drugging every bout of sinus pressure--which may or may not have an underlying bacteria infection--or UTI. I want to save the damn drugs for when they really count.

4. Antibiotics, antiseptics, and especially those truly unnecessary antibacterial soaps are incredibly overused. Bacteria in general have plenty of chance to build up resistance. Those little illness-causing dudes reproduce fast. It's a microscopic arms race. Let's not waste our ammo.

5. Even if I were more willing to pop a round of Augmentin, I would first go visit my doctor and let her, the person with the medical degree, diagnose whether my sinuses were infected with bacteria. Drugging viruses is a prime culprit in the problem of antibiotic resistance.

Feeling off.

2009-03-01T10:26:00.004-05:00

I seem to be slightly "off" this morning. I'm sneezing a lot and there's a weird smell in my nose, like dirt and mushrooms and maybe gym socks. A lot of pressure below the left eye. I really hope it's not a sinus infection, because I will do all I can to avoid visiting my new doctor, up to and perhaps including letting a sinus infection become a brain infection. I don't care for her, but I am on state insurance during my career transition, so what can I do?

I'm also weeping at small frustrations. Maybe one of them is really a larger frustration. See, I chose a teaching specialty, ESL, wherein it's impossible, in the end, to pass the state teacher certification until I've finished all my master's coursework. This is a highly unusual field in that way. So, schools are now posting their job openings for the fall, but I'm not a certified teacher yet. Which means another year, perhaps, of substitute teaching purgatory.

And then there are other small frustrations, like the ridiculous security measures of our Online Bank. These security measures often make doing banking with them a frustrating experience. But the rates are so good.

Earlier, on Weekend Edition, Scott Simon was telling us about a broadcaster who recently died. Peter Harvey might have been his name. I'd never heard of him before, but the touching tribute also made me weep.

Perhaps a lot of this frustration is residual from yesterday. My classmates in my master's program are fucking idiots. A quarter of them arrived 20-30 minutes late. I can understand 10 minutes, but this was a big waste of the time for which I am paying. A quarter of them showed up to class 4 hours late. Yes, the class runs for 8 hours, which is a long time, but it only meets for 7 sessions. In addition, only 2 of us brought the printouts we needed for class. And, my classmates, once they bothered to show up, took so long to grasp concepts that I had to sit there metaphorically twiddling my thumbs while I waited for them to get it. I sensed the other prepared classmate was similarly biding time.

The only consolation is that the professor and I commiserated in hushed tones about the lack of preparedness. Also, she reminded the morons to show up on time and to bring what they needed. I don't know how she did it without losing her mind. She came across as perfectly sweet and even-tempered. Of course, she's the one being paid to waste her time, not the one paying to waste her time. In two weeks (and we only have five left) we've covered only HALF of what we were supposed to.

I wonder if the natural foods store that sold me the concoction that cured my UTI within 24 hours has anything for sinusitis. Or for misanthropy and malaise.

All about Me(me): Buddhism

2009-02-27T07:41:00.005-05:00

Narya gave me Buddhism as one of my words. I could write pages and pages and pages on Buddhism. I wasn't sure where to start, and lo!, this morning a friend emailed me to ask what the difference is between Zen and other sects of Buddhism. Here's my response to her.

If you'd like me to give you 5 words I associate with you to explore on your own blog, tell me in the comments.

Buddhism

Disclaimer: Dividing Buddhism into "Zen" and "Other" is sort of like dividing Christianity into "Calvinism" (for example) and "Other." Nonetheless, we shall examine what makes Zen so very Zen.

Zen is direct pointing at mind!
Zen is the diamond that cuts through illusion!
If you meet the Buddha, kill him!

Zen is the Japanese translation of "Ch'an," the Chinese word for "meditation." Ch'an is a sect of Buddhism that originated in China. At the time (at least in China), Buddhism was a super-scholarly pursuit, monks spending days and nights memorizing and debating sutras, quibbling over what exactly the Buddha meant when he said this or that. Also, the monastic orders became very wealthy and opulent because Buddhism was held in high esteem.

Ch'an arose a reaction against this ivory tower Buddhism. Legend has it that the first Ch'an patriarch was illiterate, but this may have been fabricated to prove a point. Ch'an/Zen emphasizes meditation and direct insight. (Zen is direct pointing at mind!) Ch'an redefined the concept of Nirvana. In other sects Nirvana is a sort of extinguishment-paradise after death, an escape from rebirth. In Ch'an/Zen, it is the extinguishment of duality and notions, the direct experience of reality, and it attainable in this life. (Zen is the diamond that cuts through illusion!)

Ch'an/Zen also got rid of the worship on the Buddha. (Many sects always did and still do worship the Buddhas. Many Tibetan Buddhists, for example, are very into Buddha & Bodhisattva worship, but of course their flavor of Buddhism is influenced by pre-Buddhist Tibetan animism.) The object is to BECOME the Buddha, here and now, not to worship external Buddhas. All external Buddhas are false. (If you meet the Buddha, kill him!)

Ch'an spread from China, becoming "Zen" in Japan, "Thien" in Vietnam, and "Seon" in Korea. It is also known as "Dhyana," the Sanskrit word for meditation.

It's interesting to note that Ch'an/Zen places a good deal of emphasis on lineage. ("I received the precepts from so-and-so, who received it from so-and-so, who traces his lineage back to Patriarch So-and-So.") This is because Ch'an/Zen has needed to prove its legitimacy ever since its origins as a renegade sect. Also, it may be because of the importance of ancestors and lineage in the Chinese culture.

Recommended reading: Zen Speaks!: Shouts of Nothingness.

ENVY MY LUNCH!

2009-02-26T12:37:00.002-05:00

Moroccan orange salad. Does that just sound delicious? I'm about to try it. I hope it is delicious.

UPDATE: Yup. Delish.

GARGH

2009-02-26T09:11:00.004-05:00

I've had this happen too often lately. I'm taking a nuanced stance about something, and a person involved in the discussion says one of the following:

1. You're throwing out the baby with the bathwater.
No I'm not, I never said to throw out any bathwater. I'm bringing some nuance to the discussion.

2. You're contradicting yourself.
No I'm not, I'm showing that, in fact, this is not a matter of absolutes. That's what I said at the beginning.

3. Sometimes the other discussant simply starts arguing against a point I never made because they assume that if I believe X, I must believe Y.
I'm not even sure how to respond to that one.

Conclusion 1: I need a fucking vacation.
Conclusion 2: This is why I hate "discourse."

All About Me(me): Comfort

2009-02-24T13:19:00.003-05:00

Narya gave me five words, and Ann gave me five more. I'm going to take them one at a time. Let me know via comments if you'd like five words I associate with you.

From Narya--
Comfort

My grandmother is a shop-a-holic. Every Christmas, each child would open boxes upon boxes of sweaters, pants, and sometimes jewelry, all bought on clearance at Macy’s. The store subtracted her senior citizen discount from the sale price, and viola!, Charter Club sweater for $2.99.

These deeply discounted sweaters itched a lot.

One Christmas, as my grandma loves to recount, I finally asked her if she might be able to find softer sweaters. “Ever since,” she says, “I’ve always looked for soft.” True enough: The sweaters from grandma, though they may come in jarringly bold colors, are now luxuriously soft. The lovely white towels she gave us as a wedding present, although they do not dry a drop of water, are exceedingly soft.

Perhaps I’ve appreciated comfort from a young age. I don’t know. I do know that life seems better when some of those little things are arranged nicely. We spent a lot on a good mattress. Our bed is a queen-sized planet of comfort. Last year I advised several friends making their own purchases on the markings of a quality mattress.

I enjoy tea and sunshine, baking bread, naps with cats, iPod living room solo dance parties—pleasant pursuits. Why can’t things be a little more pleasant, a little more comfortable? Italians get this. Perhaps most European cultures understand this. I met a nice fellow at the local hotel’s Jacuzzi recently. He said that he likes to leave a bottle of water in a snowdrift outside the hotel’s door. When he’s done with his soak, the ice-cold water is just perfect. “You know how to live,” I replied. “Because of some water?” he asked.

“No, because you know how to arrange those little details that make life pleasant.”

CELL PHONES ARE THE BANE OF CIVILIZATION.

2009-02-24T11:33:00.001-05:00

That is all.

Bird feeding update

2009-02-24T09:37:00.001-05:00

AHA! It turns out that sparrows--the very birds poking around looking for a feeder--prefer corn in a tray to sunflower seeds in a tube. OK, no prob.

New day, new plan.

2009-02-24T08:34:00.002-05:00

1. Start the day with oatmeal, wheat germ, and blueberries. Power breakfast to fire up those neurons.

2. Go to library with books and laptop.

3. Work from my literature review outline. USE THE OUTLINE AS MY GUIDE.

4. Read and write and research, making notes as needed on the outline as I go.

5. Get some exercise.

6. WW meeting tonight--driving with a friend I haven't seen in a while!

7. Count my accomplishments at the end of the day.

Part of my Overwhelm and Dread yesterday was receiving a draft of my lit review back from my adviser. I thought I'd been wrapping things up, and she added notes like, "Please refer to X, Y, and Z authors concerning culture, language, and academic development." And, "Develop this idea more." And, "This is a start, but you need a more detailed intro comparing 1st and 2nd language acquisition." Thus, more research, more writing.

The project grew and grew before my eyes. The infinitely expanding lit review. It's probably an uncountable infinity, at that.

Yesterday about all I could handle was making a shiny new outline and crossing off the few points that are actually done now. I could cross off less than I'd hoped. I also polished the section on Skinner.

Ack. OK, moving forward.

This is called freaking out.

2009-02-23T18:02:00.000-05:00

I'm staring at my literature review, unable to move forward, filled with Dread and Overwhelm.

Cognitive dissonance: OW!

2009-02-23T11:16:00.003-05:00

The method of Cambridge College, where I am earnestly studying teaching ESL, is to create cognitive dissonance in students. At least in my case, they are succeeding.

I spent most of the past week avoiding writing a reaction paper, because I did not know how to react. I did know that something about the topic at hand--the notion that teaching is always political, always supporting or contradicting a discourse--was bothering me. I had such a bad case of cognitive dissonance that, nauseated and suffering headaches, I was ready to quit graduate school under the pretext that I needed to be available to make G. dinner in the 3 weeks leading up to his PhD defense. (This is partly true--we are both slightly a mess, he more than I, and the situation is troublesome. Only the cats remain sane, as sane as cats ever are.)

I was also troubled greatly by Foucault, who asserted that the struggle for control of discourse is the struggle for power, and that language is never neutral, but power is neutral. Dude. What?

I reread the chapter on which I was to base my own reflections. I felt nauseated. I hated Foucault and did not understand Fairclough. I felt trapped, like I was being instructed to become a radical activist, and radical activism is against my nature. It was like asking a fish to jog, or a bird to live in the sea.

Eventually I figured it out. I prefaced my reaction by stating my personal philosophy: I distrust extremes; like Aristotle and Buddha, I believe that wisdom lies in the middle places. I therefore could accept the idea that teaching is usually or almost always political and seldom neutral, but I could not abide the idea that teaching is always political and never neutral.

I discovered, then, approached from the middle places, that I could accept parts of Freire (students are not empty vessels waiting to be filled with knowledge), most of Cummins (collaborative v. coercive education), and especially Bordieu's ideas about language as cultural capital. I also appreciated Tollefson's classification of descriptive v. evaluative approaches to language.

But I concluded with my gut-level distaste for Foucault, noting that perhaps I dislike his notions of "struggle" because I see myself as a bridge-builder, not a warrior. I confessed to being mystified by Fairclough, perhaps needing more examples of CDA in action.

You know what? I don't have to be a radical or an extremist. I do not value radicalism, extremes, absolutes. I believe more harm than good comes from entrenched, absolute ways of thinking. And that does not mean I should drop out of my master's program.

C'mon sparrows, I shelled out for black oil sunflower seeds...

2009-02-19T14:22:00.001-05:00

There were a few fly-bys yesterday, but no feeder landings yet.

Birthday pressure.

2009-02-17T09:09:00.002-05:00

I wonder if I would like my birthday better were it in a more temperate time of year. It falls when I am at my nadir, when I am sleepy and mopey and lacking energy. A birthday creates pressure to have fun--fun!--and socialize at a time when all my instincts say to hibernate, to take it easy.

Ah, well.

I plan to get another bird feeder today. The migratory birds are trickling back. Hawks are circling. Yesterday, two small gray birds were looking for my old raccoon-mauled feeder. Naturally, that one found its way to the dumpster last winter.

PS Also? I'm tired of marketing machines (big online bank, big online application, local spa, etc) sending me birthday greetings. DUDE.

Happy Birthday, Ann!

2009-02-14T12:42:00.001-05:00

Live it up!

Bulletin

2009-02-13T22:41:00.001-05:00

I just finished reading Creation after about 4 months. I feel sort of empty now.

How will I feel once I finish my thesis?

Refining, refining

2009-02-13T09:12:00.002-05:00

I think that I may be in favor of civil rights and reasonable accommodations, but against identity politics. By identity politics, I may or may not mean a sort of us-against-them tribalism rhetoric.

Clearly, I'm still sorting this out.

Valentine's project

2009-02-12T20:45:00.003-05:00

I took a page from Katie Brown today. Katie once personalized brownies made from a boxed mix by frosting them with melted caramels and topping with toasted pecans. (Then she proceeded to make bath salts from scratch, which caused us to wonder, "Why not buy the bath salts and make the brownies from scratch, Katie? Who has citric acid powder and liquid glycerin in the cupboard rarin' to go?")

Anyway, I decided to personalize brownies for my valentine. The man loves brownies, he does. It occurred to me that my best from-scratch efforts will be much more work and not much better than Ghiradelli's dark chocolate brownie mix. Still, brownies from a mix don't say "I love you" in the most romantic way.

I toyed with buying a heart mold, but I didn't want to shell out twenty-five bucks for another cooking accessory to crowd the cupboards.

Then I remembered Katie. Katie, I thought, I didn't know how wise you were.

I bought some chocolate heart candies to place on the brownies. What to stick them with? Of course! Peanut butter frosting! Yippee!

My variation, then: Ghiradelli dark chocolate brownies with PB frosting and dark chocolate heart candies. Thank you, Katie Brown. No, I will not be making bath salts.

Do you have any surprises in store for the feast of St. Valentine?

"What it means to be a real teacher": An effed-up code

2009-02-12T11:20:00.003-05:00

Over the last weeks & months I've gathered what many educators think it means to be a real teacher, and I think it's effed up. In fact, many of my personal goals and beliefs directly contradict this code.

For example, Real Teachers Work in the Inner-City, to Improve the Lives of Disadvantaged Yoots.
Corollary 1: There is no Real Teaching to be done in the suburbs, because the suburban kids will turn out fine anyway.
Corollary 2: Teachers in the suburbs contribute to the institutionalized racism of suburban white flight.
(I'm from the suburbs. I like the suburbs. A teacher can teach in the suburbs, not just manage behavior all day.)

Real Teachers Do All They Can to "Save" Students.
(I believe that we are all responsible for saving ourselves, which is why I'm a Buddhist and not a Christian.)

Real Teachers Never Teach Grammar. The kids will pick it up on their own.
(Bullshit. There is nothing wrong with explicitly teaching grammar, as long as it's not the only way that language is taught. In fact, this leads me to kStyle's Newly Minted Theory of Education.)

kStyle's Newly Minted Theory of Education
Use a little of every approach. Find the unique concoction that works for you & your students. Ignore the Educrats.

Tomorrow: A retreat for 'Style.

2009-02-11T22:17:00.002-05:00

Tomorrow I will take myself away to the heated indoor pool of a local hotel. I will swim, and swim some more. I will use the hotel whirlpool hottub jaccuzzi thing. I will pretend I'm on vacation, a luxurious retreat all by myself, like a wealthy lady of leisure. I may even eat lunch in a hotel restaurant. Imagine! A day's vacation, moments from home! I feel better just thinking about it.

Advice from my advisor.

2009-02-11T22:00:00.004-05:00

I wasn't sure whether I liked my advisor when I first met her in the fall, but now she is one of my favorite people. In fact, she is the ONLY person who has given me any good advice about classroom management. Everyone else said, "Remember that you're the one in charge and it will be fine." I'm sorry, but in my experience I need to prove to the kids that I'm in charge; despite my own self-confidence, the yoots do not accept teacher authority as a given.

Bless my advisor and her work in the Boston public schools. Here are her tips, which I'm recording for my own reference as much as anything:

1. "You need to step on them a little." (The most helpful advice ever, especially coming from my radical, liberal, feminist advisor. I hear her saying it in her melodious Haitian accent.)
2. Create a classroom routine and never, ever deter from it.
3. Time-on-task (in other words, maximize active learning time. This is my least favorite mantra of the bunch, because it apparently presupposes that the students want to learn. Ha, and again, ha.)
4. Build a learning community before you attempt group work. (Damn, I wish I'd heard this one before I attempted group work. They so drill group work, group work, group work into us in grad school that I assumed it was a panacea.)

Here's what I've learned myself:
1. To expand on #2 above, create a routine for EVERYTHING. Leave nothing up to the kids. A routine for how to enter class. A routine for how to seat themselves during group work. A routine for when they may ask to use the bathroom and how they sign out.
1a. Create systems to support the routines. The kids never remembered what they needed for class. I now make them check that they have what they need BEFORE they enter class. I also provide a box for each group to keep any small things (notes, drafts) they are likely to forget to bring.
2. The Personal Invitation: Get the misbehaving kid in the hallway and, depending on his/her personality, either flatter the kid and ask for his help as a class role model; or intimidate the punk so that he/she is afraid to so much as breathe wrong in your classroom. This requires a decent reading of students' personalities before proceeding.
3. Things go better if you assume the students are monkeys. Monkeys need plenty of structure, reinforcement, and wrangling to attain a baseline level of acceptable behavior. Moreover, one may become frustrated with the behavior of a roomful of monkeys, but at the end of the day, one might remember that, "oh, well, they're monkeys," which creates a certain peace of mind.

Bedraggled.

2009-02-09T18:30:00.002-05:00

I am growing tired of seventh graders. I am weary. The other teachers, the ones who have been with the seventh graders all year, look even worse. This is a tough group.

Still, sometimes they make me laugh. And I continue to amaze them as more and more realize I am married, but I didn't take my husband's last name, and you can DO that!

I'm looking forward to school vacation next week, and the end of this gig. I've learned some valuable lessons from it, though. Assign groups; never let the kids choose their own. Have a routine for the way that the kids enter class. Do not be above bribery positive reinforcement.

I wonder if I'm really up for a career in teaching. G. says: You are, but not in Lowell. On the plus side, we have developed a wide range of new expressions, such as: "What are you, a 7th grader in Lowell?" And, "Did you go to school in Lowell or something?" And, for someone who looks particularly bedraggled, "Oh, man. Looks like you've been teaching in Lowell."

Ms. F, are you married? Part 2

2009-02-07T21:52:00.002-05:00

Part 1 here.

I relate well to Ruben, a smart, bespectacled 13-year-old who has little patience for the laziness or shennanigans of his classmates. He's both serious and funny. The other kids aren't always fond of Ruben, but I think that Ruben and I get each other.

On Friday, I was gesturing to make a point when Ruben noticed my wedding rings. "Ms. F__________, are you married?" he asked.

"Yes."

"What was your maiden name?" he asked.

"My maiden name was F______________."

"No, no, I mean, what was your name before you got married?"

"F_________________," I replied, becoming amused.

Ruben looked confused for a second, and then, eyes wide, he asked, "Wait! You and your husband had the same name?"

"No," I replied, trying not to look too amused.

"I didn't know you could do that!" he exclaimed.

Then--this is why I love this kid: "Why didn't he take your name?"

"I don't know, Ruben. I don't know."

Come to Jesus, Friend

2009-01-30T16:11:00.004-05:00

I sat down the lead team teacher for a Come To Jesus talk today. (Both Narya and my eccentric former boss used that expression, and I am fond of it.) I explained that I had agreed to substitute teach for one week. Only later did I learn the teacher had quit and I had the added responsibility of making all the lesson plans, assigning the homework, etc. And then, it morphed into an open-ended gig. I asked what was going on.

Lead Teacher explained that he wasn't sure either. They had interviewed 7 people for the position, of whom 6 were no good. He said he would do all he could to keep me in the job. The kids love me. The faculty adores me. Apparently I'm a freakin' wunderkind in the classroom.

I said, Wellll...here's where I'm coming from. My goal for the year is to sub in as many different places at as many different grade levels as possible, to see what I like. I have a semester--one semester--in which to write a thesis. It happens to be this semester. I need to remain a per diem sub so that I can take days as needed to work on my thesis.

Lead Teacher tried, most charmingly, to talk me into the job, for which they might be hiring someone else anyway. I was not having it. I declined equally charmingly. I explained that I liked the kids and love the teaching team, but this did not work with my personal goals or timeline. (I refrained from ranting about how it SUCKED to be thrown additional responsibility for no extra pay without telling me up front that was happening, at a chaotic school where the students both behave and read at a level about 3 years younger than the actually are.)

I agreed to stay for 2 more weeks to make a smooth transition. I left feeling happier, lighter, and far left anxious at the end of the day.

My resolution when I turned 30 was, essentially, "I'm not putting up with crap." I think I have proven myself worthy of turning 31 in a few weeks.

Taking advantage or just poor communcation?

2009-01-29T22:04:00.005-05:00

I'm doing a heck of a lot of work for this substitute gig. You know, the one where I was told after the fact that the teacher had quit and moved back to Ohio and that *I* would be making the lesson plans. Suddenly I am also supposed to coordinate with the 8th grade ELA teacher to ensure a smooth transition between 7th and 8th grades. All this, and I was never told in the first place that this is what I was getting into; and I still have not been invited to stay until the end of the year.

Also? I made a great connection for the kids--that "yo' mama" jokes are a form of hyperbole--but today I was told to cease and desist with using yo mama hokes as an instructional tool. I was told that a student was "very upset" and had "complained" about me, but I strongly suspect that this is a lie. I believe the other teachers simply found this somehow inappropriate.

I need to have a little heart-to-heart with the team lead teacher tomorrow. I intended for this spring to be a time of subbing in lots of places and at lots of grade levels to see what I like; I moreover intended to be able to take days off as needed to work on my thesis. I feel blindsided, and it's making me both anxious and resentful.

Am I overreacting? I'm sure they must think they are giving me a great opportunity...right?

Bait-and-Switch

2009-01-25T10:35:00.002-05:00

Oh, dear.

First, a big chink of my thesis is due Feb. 3. This is according to my own timeline, granted, but I have made the timeline and, dammit, I'm sticking to it. If I don't finish my thesis this semester, they charge me $400 when I do turn it in.

Then, a freelance proofreading project started running behind. Now the last batch is also due Feb. 3.

And on top of all that, I was asked to fill in for a teacher all next week. I accepted. And then, later? They remembered to mention that, Oh by the way, that teacher quit, and have fun making the lesson plans!

Dude. DUDE.

Hail to the Chief

2009-01-20T15:08:00.002-05:00

I am so, so happy about President Obama's inauguration. I felt proud, moved.

Did anyone else catch that he included "nonbelievers" in his address? Has any U.S. president remembered or acknowledged the nonbelievers before?

On a trivial note, I cannot hear "Hail to the Chief" without hearing Paul Reiser singing, "I am the den-tist, I've come to pull your tooth out".

For the record

2009-01-20T07:19:00.003-05:00

I feel better after a good night's sleep, 15 minutes of lightbox therapy, and a breakfast of steel cut oats made overnight in the Crock Pot, topped with a poached egg. Rest! Light! B vitamins! Here we go!

Happy Mid-January

2009-01-19T22:24:00.002-05:00

I am seriously hating life these days. It's all winter depression. I feel guilty for feeling so gawdawful, given that my life is objectively quite good.

Restricting food intake + SAD + PMS = one miserable kStyle.

Wake me up in June, would you?

Assorted.

2009-01-16T14:17:00.004-05:00

Trader Joe's flatbread with wild mushrooms, truffles, and mozzarella is so good it's almost ridiculous. It does not look impressive when frozen, but cook it up and it is an absolute delight.
It's freaking cold. Every time I go outside, it feels like the little hairs in my nostrils are going to freeze and break off. The bright, bright sunshine is a terrible tease.
There are now more needles on the floor than on our poor Christmas tree. We'd extended its life so it could lend joviality to last Friday's board games party. It did a marvelous job, but now the poor tree is tired and must be laid to rest. Also? We are tired of the cats puking up needles. We KNOW what you're doing, CATS.
"John, I'm Only Dancing" has been in my head for 3 days.

Breaking Promises

2009-01-16T08:55:00.002-05:00

I know I promised I'd sequester all Weight Watchers-related posts here, but! I have to tell you! I lost 4.4 lbs the first week. It took me all summer using the Food Pyramid and ridiculous amounts of exercise to do the same. Yay, WW! Yay, me!

That is all.

Procrastination

2009-01-13T12:44:00.001-05:00

Bill took the quiz. I'm a sucker for Internet quizzes, so I took it, too.

I took the 43 Things Personality Quiz and found out I'm an

Extroverted Self-Improving Believer

No idea what it means, but it sounds about right.

Oh, Crap.

2009-01-08T09:54:00.002-05:00

Yesterday I learned that free Tetris is available online. Now I am wasting lots of time. Moreover, Level 7 is way too fast for me and I don't even enjoy it. I only like Levels 1-6.

Reminds me of my former job. The reward for doing good work was more work, faster.

Stuff and Things

2009-01-06T09:47:00.003-05:00

1. We received a pair of wonderful mugs for Christmas. I am head-over-heels for them. I can't find a photo online, and I'm too lazy to take one, so I'll just have to describe them. They are designed for warming your hands as you sip your warm drink of choice. A beautiful, blue-glazed ceramic inside layer rises up above a shorter, thicker, outside layer of brown clay, which prevents the mug from being too hot to hold. The clay is grooved for a comfortable hand grip. The mugs are aesthetically-pleasing, and just the right size to hold in two hands while gazing out the window.

2. I am pleased to announce that I am now an "independent consultant" for an up-and-coming cosmetics and personal care company. Really, I just liked the shampoo a LOT, and I wanted the discount. I have no intention of starting an MLM-business. But, er, if anyone wants some great shampoo...let me know*.

*I have to say that. So I can keep getting a discount.

Un-PC Food

2009-01-05T17:24:00.006-05:00

I've long been very good to my friends' dietary needs, taking a "least common demonimator" approach to gatherings at my home. Is there a vegetarian in the crowd? We all eat vegetarian! A vegan? No animal products for anyone! Visiting Jews? Kosher ingredients it is, for everything served!

I'm breaking free. Vegetarians, vegans, and Kosher-keepers may wish to stop reading now.

On Friday, we are having a few friends over for board games. Fifteen friends, to be precise. I assumed that some people would decline, so I sent out more invites than we can really fit in our little place, and then no one declined. But no matter! We'll make room!

The crowd has at least one vegetarian, one gluten-free Jew who I don't believe keeps Kosher, and assorted others with varying dietary needs. But you know what? 1. It's just munchies anyway, and 2. I invited everyone to bring a snack to share. Ergo, everyone should have something edible.

Therefore, I am making my mom's delicious Ham & Cheese Appetizers! Yes! This is liberation! You know what else? The recipe contains Bisquick! It does! And I'm using it! (I did greatly reduce the fat content of the original recipe, however.)

Anyone who cannot eat this snacketizer will just have to deal. They'll have popcorn, salad, and Christmas cookies, anyway. I am no longer all chefs to all people. IT FEELS GREAT.

Reading

2009-01-05T08:36:00.003-05:00

I'm trying to be cheerful about winter, I am. I bought myself a pink rose bouquet at Trader Joe's. It was called "Rosy Cheer." Rosy cheer for $3.99--not bad!

One nice thing about winter is that it's a good time to cozy up with a book or three. What are you reading? Would you recommend it? Here's what I'm reading.

Creation by Gore Vidal. Yes, I've been reading it since October. It's long, but it's fantastic. Cyrus Spitama, fictitious Persian ambassador for the great kings Darius and Xerxes, travels the ancient world from Greece to India and China, meeting kings, wise men, and mad men along the way. I have sat in on Ambassador Spitama's audiences with Buddha, Lao Tzu, and Confucius. I suspect that we may yet meet Socrates and Pythagoras. My favorite character, though, has been the mad Duke of Sheh, a Chinese knight who styled himself duke of the fictitious "Sheh," or holy ground. He is known for chasing dragons and calling upon his "cousins," the other dukes, for shelter and meals in the royal style he deserves. Entertainingly weaving so many strands of history and philosophy together, this book is a masterpiece.

Netherland by Joseph O'Neill. Slate.com listed Netherland as one of the best books of 2008. I've only just begun the novel, but I am charmed by the detail-rich prose. I'll let you read what Slate and Amazon have to say about this book, rather than describing something I have not yet read.

Finally, I'm proofreading a book on oncology nutrition. It's rather a fascinating book. It has changed the way I see food. I now think about anticarcinogenic properties when staring down something edible.

Book waiting in the wings: The Language Instinct (Pinker), Water for Elephants (Gruen).

Books on the to-read-eventually list: American Wife (Sittenfeld), Wesley the Owl (O'Brien), The Race Card: How Bluffing about Bias Makes Race Relations Worse (Thompson Ford), Company of Liars (Maitland).

Confession: I have trouble finishing nonfiction books. I've started far more than I've completed.

Za'atar: It's magic!

2009-01-04T20:44:00.002-05:00

A friend told me that za'atar is the secret spice in his magical hummus. I was inspired to make za'atar-laced hummus straightaway, dusting the pulverized chickpeas liberally with my new herb in addition to my old friend, cumin, and pulsing away in the Cuisinart.

Magic. Aaaaah. Za'atar. I love you.

And so winter begins, if we must.

2009-01-04T10:28:00.000-05:00

I hate the end of the holidays. I hate fighting the cold and snow and dark to go back to work. I hate fighting my sweet tooth to return to a reasonable, non-holiday way of eating. I hate going from the wide-open spaces of time spent lounging with family and friends to the hectic pace of regular life. I hate closing the purse strings back up after a month of thoughtful spending.

I dread that I need to finish my thesis by April, G. needs to finish his dissertation by March, and he'll be job-hunting, and I predict we will have scant emotional resources left over to console one another.

The sun looked so weak and distant this morning, so feeble.

Sigh. Moan. Complain, complain. Whine. Whimper.

Open Letter to Authors of Nonfiction Monographs and Contributed Texts

2008-12-31T15:15:00.003-05:00

Dear Authors:

Please provide the ISSUE NUMBERS of the articles in the references. I cannot look ALL of them up for you.

Sincerely,

Your Proofreader

Me, Elsewhere

2008-12-30T13:47:00.003-05:00

It occurs to me that although I'll want to blog about my attempts to lose weight, not everyone will want to read about them. I myself find weight-loss blogs rather dull. So, La Dolce Vita will continue with regularly scheduled programming, while I'll post all my weighty matters (ha ha) here.

Cheers.

New Ears for New Years

2008-12-30T11:04:00.001-05:00

I received my coveted iPod (Nano) for Christmas from my honeypie. I'm not one for getting attached to my gadgets, but I freaking LOVE this thing. Strangely, listening to my tunes in this new way has changed my opinions about some of them. For example, now that I can hear some of the details of Fischerspooner (electronica band) more clearly, I like them even more. Ditto for Beck. On the other hand, I preferred not being able to understand what Outkast was saying. (Really? We're "pistol-whipping"? What does that even mean, Andre? Second thought...No, don't tell me.)

Have you ever experienced something similar? Your perception of music changing based on the medium through which it's delivered?

Year-End Questions

2008-12-29T13:38:00.007-05:00

From Narya.

1. What was the most surprising pleasant thing that happened to you this year? What was the most surprising unpleasant thing?

The most surprising pleasant thing was actually quitting my publishing job of 7 years. It was like spending 7 years as a prisoner, no end in sight despite plenty of failed escape plots, when one day the warden enters with the big key ring and says, "This way out." My last day was Oct. 30.

The most surprising unpleasant thing was the economic downturn. I'm thankful that I myself have not been much effected.

UPDATE: Another unpleasant surprise was the wiry, super-curly, shiny white hair I pulled out of my scalp last week. Oy, being 30.

2. What food(s) did you start eating this year that you haven't eaten much before? Did you stop eating something, or dramatically reduce your intake? Why?

I started eating high-fiber bread because Trader Joe's makes a pretty tasty one, and I've been conscientious about upping my fiber intake. (Dull but true.) I got on a good weight-loss kick for most of the summer, including a lower-fat, lower-glycemic index diet, but work became super-chaotic around August and my new eating patterns crumbled. Between August and the present I regained all the weight I'd lost. On the other hand, I have retained some "thin person" ways of thinking, such as: "These soggy fries/this dry pastry/these mediocre candies aren't good enough to waste my calories and fat on."

Oh! I also tried Cambodian food for the first time. The amok royal at Elephant Walk was amazing, a coconut-milk-creamy dish of scallops, shrimp, and whitefish, delicately infused with Cambodian spices, wrapped in a banana leaf. I look forward to trying more Cambodian dishes, especially since many of the kids in one of my schools are from Cambodia.

Over the last few weeks, I've been making Vedic recipes from my current favorite cookbook. It's great to make my own Indian food at home. I can cut the ghee in half.

UPDATE: How could I forget my introduction to Polish chocolates over Labor Day weekend? My sister lives in a Polish neighborhood in Brooklyn. The rest is history.

3. What risks did you take? How did they work out?

Left my tedious, cutthroat job of 7 years for an irregularly-paying combo of substitute teaching and freelance proofreading, with a non-paying side of grad school. It's fucking fantastic. I am so much happier every single day.

4. What performance (music, dance, movie, theater, etc.) did you most enjoy this year? (If you were doing the performing, then which did you most enjoy doing, and which did you most enjoy experiencing?)

Oooh, this is bad...I don't think I got to any live performances. I went to the MFA a lot, though. I most enjoyed the Karsh 100 exhibit.

Movies....Mamma Mia! was not brilliant cinema, but it was tons of fun. TV: Alec Baldwin as Jack on 30 Rock. Tina Fey as Sarah Palin on SNL. New appreciation for Lenny Henry as Gareth Blackstock on Chef!

UPDATE: I just remembered that we caught the wonderful fall concert of the Concord Orchestra. They were excellent!

5. What habits are you trying to change? What's encouraging, motivating, and/or inhibiting you in your efforts? Did you add any new habits that feel like they're becoming part of you? Did you drop any that you'd like to resume?

Gotta start my weight loss efforts again. In fact, my new health insurance has given me 12 weeks' free Weight Watchers sessions, which I'll begin on Tuesday. My approach will be to focus on nutrient-rich foods--whole grains, veggies, fruits--and use the WW points system to track intake. I think it will be good for me to have the longer-term "nutrition" vision, instead of looking solely at calories, fat, "points." To me, there's greater motivation in making sure that I get cancer-preventing foods (for example) than in just counting calories and grams of fat. It helps that I'm reading Food & Mood and also proofreading a book on oncology nutrition. Since starting to read Food & Mood, I've been paying more attention to how I feel right after eating a meal. Oatmeal with wheat germ--I feel great! Broccoli and tofu--fantastic, alert but calm! Pizza--sluggish, heavy, and not quite full.

I've also been swimming sporadically ever since I discovered that the high school pool is open, sporadically, for public use. I may join a center with a pool I could use regularly.

G. and I took up coed recreational volleyball in the spring. He is still loving the vball, going every week, sad when a week in canceled. I quit in the fall: too many obnoxious, super-competitive people at the BEGINNER session. I realized I didn't like vball enough to put up with them! I'm glad that G. has an activity he loves, though. He's been trying to coax me to come back; I've been trying to coax him to try another community ed class with me.

Merry! Happy!

2008-12-24T08:31:00.002-05:00

I'm wishing everyone a joyous Noel, a peaceful Holy Night, a merry Christmas, and a prosperous, healthy, happy, safe New Year. Even of you celebrate neither Christmas nor the New Year, I wish you all of the warmth, joy, peace, and love possible.

Amen. So mote it Be. Namaste.

Let's EAT!

Making Milk Drinkable

2008-12-22T07:42:00.004-05:00

I'm not a moo juice drinker. The taste hasn't appealed since...well, puberty, come to think of it...and I have trouble digesting it. I can eat aged cheeses just fine because the lactose is mostly eroded during the aging process. Yogurt can go either way. However, in the interest of eating a lower-fat diet, I've been feeling the pressure to try--just try!--to drink some low-fat milk.

The vegetarian temple cooking of India reveres milk, which, I presume, is likely why Hindus revere cows. I was thumbing through the back of my Vedic cooking Bible when I noticed a section on menu planning by season. The tome suggested enjoying a hot milk drink, like cardamom milk, with breakfast on winter mornings.

Cardamom milk. That sounded good.

I turned to the recipe, finding it embedded in a generous collection of recipes for hot milk drinks, all of which sounded good. I made the cardamom milk, admittedly a little bit of a project for someone half-awake, and drank it with breakfast yesterday. It was Absolutely Delicious--creamy, warm, slightly sweet, gently spiced, hint of coconut. It was also, rather to my surprise, a cinch to digest. I attribute this to the cooking of the milk, which perhaps breaks down some of the difficult components, and the addition of cardamom, a spice that aids in digestion.

This morning: hot banana-nutmeg milk!

UPDATE: The banana-nutmeg milk is sort of like drinking banana bread, or like banana eggnog. I prefer the cardamom-laced stuff, but this is tasty.

Happy Solstice!

2008-12-21T12:01:00.002-05:00

We have reached the darkest, deepest part of the cave, and now we begin the ascent into the light. in the meantime, while we're snug in the den, let's drink a few hot toddies and light the yule log.

K stop nao plz thx bai

2008-12-20T15:35:00.001-05:00

We have plenty of snow for a white Christmas. It can stop now.

OMG, still snowing!

2008-12-20T11:09:00.003-05:00

My snowy-day plans begin with wrapping G's presents while he's out interviewing a Wesleyan applicant for the admissions office. I will then find a chickpea curry recipe from my Bible of Vedic cooking and begin any required bean-soaking. There is proofreading to be done, there are gifts to be ordered (still! ack!), and there is fresh snow on which to snowshoe. I would visit the community pool, but my throat is a wee bit sore and warmish water is known for fostering germies.

I'd better get going!

Nor'easter

2008-12-19T17:43:00.002-05:00

Greetings from the snowy northeast. We should receive a foot of snow by the time the clouds clear tomorrow. The white flakes fell thick and fast starting around 1 PM, and when the sun set, the cloud cover made the darkness absolute.

I taught PE (ha!) during the morning and then came home and proofread. The snow helps me to stay focused and more productive: No clear sky and mild temperatures luring me outdoors. My husband, on the other hand, had trouble focusing. He felt like it was a snow day! No school! No work!

I need to move a little. I'll probably pop an aerobics dance DVD in the player. All the reference-checking made me dumb. I need to move fresh blood to my brain. I hope to coax G. into cooking dinner tonight. He makes the pad thai so much better than I do.

Be well, stay warm.

Yuletide Cheer

2008-12-18T09:32:00.002-05:00

Happy Yule! I'm feeling festive. The tree is decorated and most of the presents are purchased. The stores are bedecked in shiny reds, greens, and golds, and Trader Joe's is replete with seasonal chocolate-peppermint confections. The ground sports a crunchy layer of snow begging for my snowshoes. Dripping icicles hang off the power lines. We play the soundtrack to "A Charlie Brown Christmas." The cats, as always, nap.

Snapshots of the Day

2008-12-16T19:56:00.007-05:00

It was a rough day with the notorious, gang-infested 6th grade. Here are a few moments that amused or enlightened, however. Names changed.

"Shawna's out today. She's getting her hair done by my mom." (I KNOW that hair braiding takes at least 8 hours, but it would never occur to me as a legitimate reason to KEEP YOUR CHILD FROM SCHOOL.)
"Teacher, you're 30? My mom is 31." (The child was 12 or 13.)
There was a boy named Darius in my class. The next period, Darius came back and told me his name was Darren. I thought I was losing my mind. The other kids did not register that anything was amiss. I asked Darren, "Weren't you already in here last period?" He said that he was not. He did not have the air of a student pulling a fast one; nor did he offer any explanation. I did not inquire further, because I did not want to be the insane white teacher to whom all the black kids looked alike.

When the classes changed, I found another teacher in the hall. "Are there twins in this grade?" I asked tentatively. "Yes," she replied, "And for some reason the parents thought it was a good idea to name them 'Darius' and 'Darren.'" "Good, I'm not losing my mind," I replied. She answered, "Some days I can almost tell them apart."
Today, the vice principal threw an ice cream sundae party for the fifteen kids in 6th grade who are passing all of their classes. Achievement!

I need to get back to the suburbs. Suburbs, please call!

In which I am not a useful or productive member of society.

2008-12-12T19:29:00.000-05:00

I was going to write a detailed blog post about how I can't seem to get anything done, but...eh...

Yay! The Suburbs called today!

2008-12-11T06:41:00.004-05:00

I'm going to sub in the suburbs! For art! And the school day will be the normal 7 hours! Rather than 8.5!

A note about The School.

2008-12-10T18:10:00.004-05:00

I mentioned this in the comments, but I thought it deserved a space on the main page:

I should stress that this school (where I've been subbing) is in an economically depressed inner-city, and full of the children of immigrants from impoverished and/or war-torn nations. That is to say, this school is trying to help kids coming from the worst of circumstances; these kids are the products of the worst of circumstances.

I'm in no way implying that all--or most--4th graders are like the ones I met and attempted to teach on Monday. In fact, I recently spent a lovely day covering 5th grade in a comfortable suburb, full of children of educated and employed parents who do not come from impoverished, war-torn nations (though many came from India)--and it was a different universe.

Stage 2

2008-12-10T08:26:00.006-05:00

I am having what could be described as "a crappy week". First, there was the day from hell with 4th grade. Then, my nagging fear became reality: That as soon as I was devoid of regular income, my car would require costly repairs. Take the first two ingredients and mix together with scant hours of sunlight, and voila!, a slightly down kStyle.

Something deeper has been gnawing at me, though. Even though I just finished my semester, and the holidays, with their generous time off for everyone in school, are approaching, I've been feeling overwhelmed and anxious. I've been feeling that this whole career change is a more insidious climb up a taller mountain than I even thought it was, and fearing that I would run out of energy and provisions before I could scale it. I've also been feeling sad that, as a sub, no matter how often I work at the same school, I'm an outsider there.

Yesterday, a book I'd ordered for my thesis work arrived. As I flipped idly through it, the stages of second culture acquisition popped out at me. I learned about this over the summer, but it was stored in the dusty bins at the back of my brain. I realized that I'm going through a similar process of adjustment, adjusting to a new career, to grad school, to the school where I substitute, to a new, topsy-turvy life, while adjusting my identity to include "teacher". And I realized that I recently progressed from Stage 1, the honeymoon, to the difficult Stage 2, culture shock. I quote from page 183 of the 4th ed. of Brown's Principles of Language Learning and Teaching:

1. Stage 1 is a period of excitement and euphoria over the newness of the surroundings.
2. Stage 2--culture shock--emerges as individuals feel the intrusion of more and more cultural differences into their own images of self and security.

Although Stage 2 feels pretty crappy, it is a sign of progress. It means I am closer to integration, to becoming an ESL teacher. But for now, I feel crabby and sensitive. Intellectually, though, I understand this is a positive step.

Can't we just skip Stage 2?

Oh, car. You had better keep running.

2008-12-09T17:37:00.004-05:00

Wheel bearing, part and labor
2 new tires 87 x 2
Oil change

Paid M/C

The mechanic was encouraging, said that the sales tax on a new car would cost more, and that I was correct to assume my engine would run forever and ever, amen. Plus, I instantly liked him because he's Indian-American and wears a tricked-out gold bling OM around his neck.

It's never good when the mechanic calls while he's repairing your car.

2008-12-09T15:10:00.001-05:00

That is all.

Pop obsessions.

2008-12-09T10:09:00.005-05:00

(Each links to a YouTube video.)

Groovy.

80s retro.

Reggae pop.

These are not necessarily new or unusual, just (happily) booty-shakin' and in my head.

Why the 4th graders were weird.

2008-12-09T08:41:00.002-05:00

From an email to my mom, who is a veteran teacher and will understand. All names have been changed because it seemed like a good idea.

First, the teacher was highly disorganized and I couldn't find anything on her super-messy desk. She also left the wrong spelling worksheet, which sent the children into an absolute tizzy. In general, the "cherubs" (as they say at this school) were acting like 1st graders rather than 4th: tattling, crying, pretending to feel sick for attention, refusing to get off the floor, etc etc. A girl named Marina cried because she misbehaved at SPED pull-out and did not get a candy cane. It took half an hour to do a 26-word spelling pretest, because the class Would Not Settle Down. (The teacher had alotted 15 minutes.) Two girls were loud, hyperactive, whiny, and bossy, but more-or-less normal, if infuriating. (At one point, talking to bossy-loud-talkin' back-ADHD-whiner Sabrina, I clasped my hands firmly behind my back to make sure I would not hit her in my impatience.) Two boys were very loud clearly had ADHD, too. But again, these were the normal ones.

Then there were the weirdos. Terron smelled like he was wearing a dirty diaper. He was slightly cross-eyed, cried because a girl was "mean" to him, and was obsessed with getting the rock candy another teacher had apparently promised him at some point. He kept coming up to me and saying, without context, "Rock candy. Rock candy." I tried to cover my nose discreetly and avoid gagging. Then there was Visal, recently from Cambodia, who kept saying he saw "ghosts" and "floating eyeballs" in the room. Naturally, it was distracting for everyone. He was a spooky little kid with lots of dandruff. I pretended to kick the ghosts out of the room, but that was not enough. When the SPED teacher came in for him, I pulled her aside and asked about the "ghosts." She said he is in counseling, and no one knows for sure whether it's just a cultural thing (apparently Cambodians are into ghosts) or a mental illness. She told me he pulls the ghosts routine with new people, and he also likes to tell people about all the horrible things he went through in Cambodia, but no one knows whether he's lying or not. Then she said he's a really manipulative kid and it can be best to ignore him. So, I started to ignore him, and then I would see his facial expression get really angry, like a dark cloud was passing over. Made me think it was mostly manipulation. I asked the SPED teacher to check in again if she had a chance, to make sure we were all still alive in the afternoon.

But the strangest of all was Berdine. She had a total, utter, crying meltdown in math. Would not lift her head off the desk. I gave her 20 minutes, then asked her to do some work. No response. Next thing I know, she's in the corner below the coat hooks, pressing her head against the wall and crying. I told her I was out of patience and she had to cry at the tables in the hallway. When lunchtime rolled around, I was damned if Berdine was going to keep me from having a few minutes to eat and pee. I asked her to go into the cafeteria. She refused and refused. Finally, I walked her up to the vice-principal, who was busy with a gaggle of 8th-grade girls and simply shook his head "no" through the office door. Praise St. Anthony, the guidance counselor (Cara) was right across the hall with her door open. She took Berdine off my tired hands. When I finished lunch, Cara found me and said (I quote), "I will be a monkey's uncle if that girl is not autistic." Cara has sent her for screening, but nothing came of it, so she was looking up the file. Cara reassured me that I hadn't done anything wrong. Berdine is now, as of yesterday, allowed to eat lunch quietly with another teacher, so she doesn't have to cope with all the noise and chaos of the cafeteria; hopefully that will prevent breakdowns in the class before lunch.

Berdine was at the nurse, but (lucky me!) would soon return to class. Berdine cried the rest of the day and said her "body hurt all over." I took the kids out to recess to make them run off some insane energy before they had afternoon specials. Berdine stuck by me, sniffling and whining and--YES!--she flapped her arms at one point.

Finally, I was relieved because the bus kids--including Sabrina, her hyper sidekick Mariah, smelly Terron, ghost whisperer Visal, and especially nuclear Berdine--would not return to the classroom after specials.

But then, during my free period, the nurse called me because apparently a teacher (not me) allowed Berdine to use the classroom phone to call home. I got an earful about how Berdine's aunt called the nurse back and said that Berdine is "a drama queen," and only the nurse can let kids call home, and the nurse had NOT let Berdine call home, etc. I explained that it didn't happen in my class and I was just the sub, anyway. The nurse said she was going to speak to the principal and the whole team of teachers. I repeated that it wasn't me. The nurse said, "I know! Thanks for your time." She was just venting. I did not need her venting at that point.

THEN, the Spanish teacher calls to say that Berdine is returning to my room! Because she called her dad and her dad said her mom would pick her up! And ADHD Mariah also came back because she did not hear the direction (stated at least 3x) that bus kids should bring all their things and would not return to class. Then Berdine spent the rest of the afternoon sniffling and worried that her mom would not pick her up. At one point, she picked up the phone without my permission and was about to dial her dad! I reprimanded her very firmly for that--had crazy teacher eyes. Then I was stuck with Berdine because the afterschool teacher who monitors the pick-up kids was absent and no sub had been called in. Finally, I found a salaried teacher who was supervising the afterschool kids until someone else showed up, and dumped Berdine on her. Then I hightailed it out of there.

Toughest $100 I've made lately. On the other hand, some of the class, esp. the Cambodian girls, a boy named Darion, and Arrek, a rotund, half-Vietnemese kid who gave me a restaurant tip, were exceptionally good. The Cambodian girls all made pop-up cards for me in their free time. I wanted to adopt little Alida, but I think her family is probably very attached to her.

Love,
kStyle

PS Sorry that was really long!
PPS I forgot to tell you! The principal's house burnt down over the weekend, killing her 3 dogs. So, no principal.

Today's theme.

2008-12-08T16:50:00.001-05:00

These are some weird 4th graders, and not in a good way. Now I am exhausted but still must buy groceries.

Being silly. Being sleepy.

2008-12-07T09:22:00.004-05:00

After I put the last touches on my term paper Friday, I decided to treat myself to a movie matinee and popcorn. I saw Twilight. Yes, it is silly-teen-angsty. Yes, I sat in the theater surrounded by gaggles of text-messaging young teen girls and two of their moms. Yes, it was all I could do not to ROFL when we learned that vampires avoid sunlight because it makes them Sparkle! Like diamonds!

But, the movie was enchanting and visually gorgeous, and it sucked me utterly into its world. It was magic, as movies should be.

After my last classes for the semester yesterday, G. and I celebrated with sushi. Then I came home, collapsed into bed at 9:30, and did not wake up until 8 AM. That's a whole lot of sleep. I had dreams I was practicing archery in a giant swimming pool.

Being skeptical.

2008-12-04T17:08:00.002-05:00

A dear friend who is slightly (OK, quite a bit) farther along the New Age continuum than I has begun distributing raw chocolate blended with acai and blueberries. Apparently it's a superfood. She says it's the Best Chocolate she has ever tasted.

I tried a square. Tastes like stale dark chocolate to me. Did not cure the weird mole on my back.

Have you heard of Anne Lamott?

2008-12-04T16:58:00.000-05:00

I just heard of her for the first time. Evangelical Christian writer with progressive politics, a foul mouth, and maybe a touch of crazy. It's interesting. I sometimes reflect that my relatively even temperament equates to less need for (a) god.

This quiz cracks me up.

2008-12-03T21:36:00.000-05:00

And it's really difficult!

Pictures for Ann.

2008-12-03T15:33:00.007-05:00

I ran across these online and thought of you, my nuanced friend who enjoys winter! All are by Sisse Brimberg. For some reason Blogger is cutting the photos in half horizontally--click on them and watch them unfurl!

Almost...there...

2008-12-03T11:30:00.004-05:00

Thank heavens, I got a respite today: No substitute teaching calls. (Of course, I wonder: Did I do something wrong? Will they never call again?)

I've been slammin'-productive this morning, tidying up the straggling NCLB citations (new favorite typographical symbol: the section sign) and piecing together my ILP proposal. All that remains is to produce a proposal timeline and give everything a good proofread. Wahoo!

PS Also, just landed a proofreading gig for during my break between semesters, AND turned down a copyediting gig for that same timeframe! (I'm really glad the proofing gig got a hold of me first: it pays better, which is backwards. Copyediting should pay more.)

In which the days have themes.

2008-12-02T16:24:00.003-05:00

Yesterday was "all the fifth graders have ADD!" day. Today was "eighth grade girls with serious 'tudes" day. What will tomorrow bring?

I can tell with one glance at a classroom whether my day will be difficult or relatively easy. If the desks are in neat, ordered rows, I'm in trouble. Rows say, the teacher Is The Boss in this top-down ("autocratic," in ed parlance) classroom. Might makes right. That means trouble for the sub, who is not the usual teacher and therefore has neither might nor right. If the desks are in groups, a horseshoe, or other non-row formation, I am all set. The teacher runs a so-called "democratic" classroom with lots of interaction, where the students share responsibility for classroom management, and therefore feel some sense of ownership. The day will never be perfect, but it will be much, much better.

Today's desks were in an E shape. The day went well.

Oh, and also, too

2008-11-30T22:53:00.003-05:00

I may have mentioned this before, but Black Orpheus remains the most lovely, beautiful, elegant, touching, whimsical film ever, EVER. Although it is my very favorite movie, I don't watch it very often, and I wonder why until I next view it. Then I remember just how very sad it is, hopeful and often funny but sad, and then I put it aside for another long passage of time, until I forget how sad it really is. Later I watch it yet again, and again grow surprised at my own weepiness.

What a perfect soundtrack it has, too. Tristeza nao tem fim...

Almost...There...

2008-11-30T12:57:00.002-05:00

My research paper on the legislative roots of NCLB is now, at long last, at the point where Dubya is going to take office and reauthorize the Elementary and Secondary Schools Act under the name No Child Left Behind. What a journey it's been, from Sputnik and Brown v. Board of Education, to the Civil Rights Act of 1964 and the origin of ESEA in '65, leaping ahead to Reagan (crazy, crazy Reagan), Bush I, and Bill Clinton. The influence of governors, the influence of corporations, the influences of the Cold War and civil rights...Sigh.

After we tidy up Bush and the current Act, we'll speculate about Obama, fix the references, and hopefully call it a day.

Then I'll need to finish my thesis proposal. Thankfully, that's in pretty good shape.

Thanksgiving has been like this: Type-eat-read, type-read-eat, type-check email-procrastinate, read-read-type, type, type.

OMG THE PRINTER ONLY HAS 1 JOB AND IT'S NOT DOING IT

2008-11-26T21:30:00.000-05:00

Happy Thanksgiving!

2008-11-26T15:37:00.001-05:00

Cheers.

PS I keep thinking it's Christmas for some reason.
PPS Highly recommend these cookies.

Wearing red.

2008-11-25T19:06:00.003-05:00

I am wearing red today, to see if it might "melt off the fat". I'm not any thinner yet, but I do believe it plays a little psychological trick. My red scarf is like a red string around the finger, a reminder of my intent not to visit the vending machine, a reminder to take those few extra steps.

Those magickal people are clever, even if they don't know why.

All I'm askin' is for a little RE RE RE RE

2008-11-25T17:06:00.002-05:00

Three girls, around age 13 or 14, were incredibly disrespectful today. It amazes me, given the high premium placed on respect in teen culture, that some kids do not understand that they need to give respect. I told them as much: That I treat them with respect and expect the same. They had Evil in their eyes today, though; they were possessed with some demon of adolescence. Hence, two girls who had been "mostly good" with a side of "not doing much work" rapidly elevated their stature to "major pain in the ass". One had me so angry, somehow, through some adolescent demoncraft, that I was consciously avoiding telling her just what a f-ing pain she was being. Consciously restraining myself from cursing at a student--NICE. Trust me that I was provoked. Then their friend who is not very bright and just follows along joined in the fun and was sent to the assistant principal to join her belligerent friends.

Then a kid puked in my class, right after returning from the nurse with a headache. He looked gray! Poor guy. Poor us, cleaning it up.

Oh, is THAT all I had to do?

2008-11-23T20:36:00.001-05:00

My appetite--especially for sweets--increases fourfold in the winter. I Googled "Winter Weight Management" for tips on preventing the creeping hibernation belly, and the first result is, er, surprising.

Still. I'm totally going to wear red. Any little bit.

Khmer,

2008-11-23T08:38:00.004-05:00

that's pronounced "khi-mai", is the most beautiful language in the world. Now I'm lucky enough to hear it almost every day at work, where about half of the children speak Khmer as their native tongue.

Even the writing is beautiful.

Of course, I am open to the possibility that I'm enamored with this Cambodian language largely because I can't understand what the kids are saying in it.

A brief moment of complaint.

2008-11-21T12:58:00.003-05:00

I think I'm getting a cold. I also am definitely getting my period soon. Altogether, I feel foggy, tired, stuffy, sniffly, sneezy, and irritable. And hungry. The "hungry" bit is all PMS.

Plus, I have a lot of work, and it seems like many friendly souls cannot comprehend the idea that I really, truly cannot do anything except substitute teaching and grad school work until Dec 6. Really. TRULY.

Debate topic: Chocolate chip cookies.

2008-11-20T07:30:00.001-05:00

Soft or crispy? Support your answer.

Ths positive side of winter.

2008-11-19T21:01:00.005-05:00

Sure, my hands were as cold as death as I tried to type in the library, and yes, the pitch-black world pressed against the windows at 4 PM, but, hey!, let's try to find some positive things about this godforsaken time of year.

Ruby red grapefruit is in season!
Maybe I'll snowshoe soon!
~~Lips are chapped!~~ (Sorry--not positive!)
Soup and bread!
That special clear quality of sunlight when it appears for half an hour!
The Nutcracker Suite!
Fluffy bathrobe!
The shower: That happy warm place with moisture in the air!

Come to think of it, maybe I'll just stay in the shower until April. Hand me a grapefruit once in a while, would you? I'll pipe in The Nutcraker.