I woke up the other day and tripped over the rabbit on my way to go use the bathroom. Anyone who knows me, knows that I am not completely functional in the morning. They also know that anyone silly enough to get in my way, might be tripped over. So most people give me a wide berth. Additionally, my conversational skills are devoid of substance and I frown a lot for the first few hours of consciousness. Basically, I am not a morning person. Anyway, I began that morning by being tripped by the rabbit. I swear I heard the damn thing snicker. I kind of mumbled an apology that also included a warning to move next time. When I got out of the shower, my eyes had opened but my brain was on autopilot. I thought food, coffee, and go to work. So I enter the kitchen and the rabbit is stalking me all over the place. Like, literally! The psycho rabbit was running at me and chasing me around the kitchen. It was silly. I was doing my best to avoid the rabbit while contemplating what psychotropic drug it might need to stop being so aggressive. Then I realized the reason it was stalking me. There was no water or food in it's bowl. So I stopped what I was doing and got the poor starving and dehydrated thing some food and water. I am not sure if any of you have ever been menaced by a rabbit before but it is a little unsettling. At first you think it is going to hop past you but instead it stops in front of you and then follows you around. I have had managers, in some of my past jobs, manage like that. They follow you around and appear suddenly at your shoulder when you take a second to breathe. You may be thinking that I was over reacting but you must take into account that I was not fully awake. Then realize that finding the rabbit charging me at every turn, especially after it peed all over my flip flops, to be a little strange. No sleep, deliberately tripping, pee sabotage, and other odd bunny behavior could be the sign of a coming apocalypse but in this case it just meant the rabbit was hungry.
In another bunny related adventure, I felt you should learn about the naming of this bunny. Maryjo got this rabbit from a school. Apparently a class found this rabbit and took it in for the school year. At the end of the year she took over caring for it. Maryjo has a funny nack of not remembering this rabbit's name. I can't say I blame her because it was a completely sucktacular name like Laverne or Shirley, named after the characters of that old sitcom. An utterly forgettable name if you ask me. So I realized this rabbit desperately needed a name. Last time one of Maryjo's rabbits had a horrible moniker, I asked for the readers of this blog to help. The response was mediocre at best. Add that response to the fact that I have hardly posted in the last couple of months and I realized that leaving it up to you would not be a great choice. So I started thinking about what I knew about this bunny and other rabbits in general. This bunny is brown, soft, relatively mellow, likes grapes and sits in odd and uncomfortable looking spots. I then thought about rabbits in general. Rabbits like to have sex and reproduce, they hop and they are vegetarian. So I put all this information in my amazing name-o-matic machine (also known as my brain) and I came up with "Sexual Chocolate". The rabbit's name is Sexual Chocolate! For those who think this name is odd, realize that I didn't ask you. If you think the name sounds familiar you are right. It is not an original name! The name comes from the movie Coming to America. In that movie, Eddie and Arsenio head to a fundraising event in New York and there is a band performing at it that is named Sexual Chocolate. The announcer says "Give it up for Sexual Chocolate everybody! Sexual Chocolate!" Maybe like 1 person besides the announcer claps. Any way I figured bunnies like to hump and this bunny happens to be brown; the name is pure kismet!
If you have a better name, Maryjo would like something besides the name I have come up with. Please post your suggestions, as a comment, here. I will take the best and debate whether it is a more fitting name for the rabbit. If it is, then you will be the proud namer of a rabbit, and I might even get you a copy of my next year's photo wall calendar! (still in development)
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
Tuesday, October 06, 2009
Hippity Hoppity Updatity!
Wow! I am busy!
I want to write a little more for the story being posted here but I am behind on my work sample. I decided I needed to put out an update so that you know what is going on with me. I have a month left at the elementary school and I finish up my science unit on the human body next week. Of course, after that unit is done I will teach the last 3 weeks full time. I am looking forward to that but I am also a little nervous about it. I am already teaching science, a novel workshop and reading. All that is left is writing and math. Oh and the other things we fit in here and there, like PE and what not.
As far as the work sample is going.... it isn't going well. I have ben having trouble getting going and as a result I am now behind. What really pisses me off is that I also have to get online 4 days a week and write a bunch of crap. Between the work sample and lesson planning I have enough to do. If I could figure out how to shove the electronic discussion question forums up people's posteriors I would feel a little happier. Since that won't happen I figured I would try whining. As far as the work sample goes a lot of the problem lies in my court. I am working hard to readjust my attitude about it. I am trying to get over the act that it is a worthless piece of busywork and realize that it is a worthless piece of crap that is my ticket to becoming licensed. Licensed in a job market that has no jobs.... WOOHOO!
I recently bought a Wii Fit Plus for my dad's Wii. I needed to figure out some activities that I could do inside when it is raining outside. This 85 dollar addition adds a lot of things I can do including yoga, strength training and quite a bit of other things. I tried it out last night and I did a lot of activities including a small run, a bunch of yoga and some interesting blance exercises. I am planning to use this to help fill in those times that I can't get outside for a run because of weather or homework. Homework interferes because a lot of the time directly after school is the best time to get crap done. If I run after school, I end up not getting around to homework. Which is another reason I am light years behind.
Other things are happening that have been interesting. The school district I am doing student teaching in is working without a contract in place. There is a huge disagreement that is mucking up the works. It has gotten to the point that a strike is becoming more of a possibility. The issue is that the district has decided that the teachers need more contact time with students. They pulled the magicaltime frame of a half hour more per day out of their rears but have failed to say how they will implement this additional time or how teachers will be given time to plan for 30 minutes more of instruction. I have been in the classroom and I can tell you that planning is key to being a good teacher. I also know that there is hardly a moment that I am not working with students. I work with them all morning, including recess time. I get a break at lunch and then I am back in the class helping out or instructing. I am just a student teacher and at this current moment I have times where I can run away to use the restroom, make copies for an upcoming lesson or ask a question of another teacher about an upcoming activity. If I was the regular teacher I would not get these reprieves. I would be using the restroom at lunch and at the end of school. I would have to figure out a backup plan, on the spot, if I was missing the copies needed for my lesson. I would basically need to be super organized in the 45 minutes of planning alotted before and after school to make sure I was ready for each day. There is not a half hour laying around that is available to fit anything in at the elementary school level. What is truly funny is that the district keeps saying that they will make time in the existing school day for the extra 30 minutes. From what I can tell that leaves recess being shortened or eliminated, which is a bad idea! Of course they can not come out and say how this time will be added without a change to bus routes or the school day. I am interested to see how this all plays out.
I want to write a little more for the story being posted here but I am behind on my work sample. I decided I needed to put out an update so that you know what is going on with me. I have a month left at the elementary school and I finish up my science unit on the human body next week. Of course, after that unit is done I will teach the last 3 weeks full time. I am looking forward to that but I am also a little nervous about it. I am already teaching science, a novel workshop and reading. All that is left is writing and math. Oh and the other things we fit in here and there, like PE and what not.
As far as the work sample is going.... it isn't going well. I have ben having trouble getting going and as a result I am now behind. What really pisses me off is that I also have to get online 4 days a week and write a bunch of crap. Between the work sample and lesson planning I have enough to do. If I could figure out how to shove the electronic discussion question forums up people's posteriors I would feel a little happier. Since that won't happen I figured I would try whining. As far as the work sample goes a lot of the problem lies in my court. I am working hard to readjust my attitude about it. I am trying to get over the act that it is a worthless piece of busywork and realize that it is a worthless piece of crap that is my ticket to becoming licensed. Licensed in a job market that has no jobs.... WOOHOO!
I recently bought a Wii Fit Plus for my dad's Wii. I needed to figure out some activities that I could do inside when it is raining outside. This 85 dollar addition adds a lot of things I can do including yoga, strength training and quite a bit of other things. I tried it out last night and I did a lot of activities including a small run, a bunch of yoga and some interesting blance exercises. I am planning to use this to help fill in those times that I can't get outside for a run because of weather or homework. Homework interferes because a lot of the time directly after school is the best time to get crap done. If I run after school, I end up not getting around to homework. Which is another reason I am light years behind.
Other things are happening that have been interesting. The school district I am doing student teaching in is working without a contract in place. There is a huge disagreement that is mucking up the works. It has gotten to the point that a strike is becoming more of a possibility. The issue is that the district has decided that the teachers need more contact time with students. They pulled the magicaltime frame of a half hour more per day out of their rears but have failed to say how they will implement this additional time or how teachers will be given time to plan for 30 minutes more of instruction. I have been in the classroom and I can tell you that planning is key to being a good teacher. I also know that there is hardly a moment that I am not working with students. I work with them all morning, including recess time. I get a break at lunch and then I am back in the class helping out or instructing. I am just a student teacher and at this current moment I have times where I can run away to use the restroom, make copies for an upcoming lesson or ask a question of another teacher about an upcoming activity. If I was the regular teacher I would not get these reprieves. I would be using the restroom at lunch and at the end of school. I would have to figure out a backup plan, on the spot, if I was missing the copies needed for my lesson. I would basically need to be super organized in the 45 minutes of planning alotted before and after school to make sure I was ready for each day. There is not a half hour laying around that is available to fit anything in at the elementary school level. What is truly funny is that the district keeps saying that they will make time in the existing school day for the extra 30 minutes. From what I can tell that leaves recess being shortened or eliminated, which is a bad idea! Of course they can not come out and say how this time will be added without a change to bus routes or the school day. I am interested to see how this all plays out.
Monday, September 28, 2009
My Dream Life Part 7
Chapter 6
“Uncle Shawn!” The muffled cry blasts through the door as my niece tries to unlock the 84 locks my paranoid sister has installed on the door. There have been many times I have told her those locks would more likely end lives rather than save them. If they ever needed to get out quickly they wouldn’t be able too. She watches a lot of CSI type shows and that, unfortunately, has shaped her world view. It has gotten to the point that the argument was no longer worth having.
“Gabby! Move away from the door so I can let your uncle in.” My sister’s voice travels through the door almost like she has nothing between us. She has always been loud.
When the door finally opens, a Gabby bolt shoots out of the opening. She wraps herself around me so tightly that someone might thing she is a symbiotic parasite.
“Hi Gabby! How are you?” I ask. She launches into a long litany of things she has done since my last visit. I smile at her, nod at the appropriate places, act surprised and laugh at her train of thought delivery. Her conversation is peppered with a lot of “Guess what?” and an exceedingly liberal amount of ums. Her mother gives me a sympathetic shrug and I wave it off. I like listening to my niece’s oddly tacked together stories. It makes me happy.
She gives me a small break when she runs off to find a new doll she has acquired. That is when my sister’s interrogation starts. Someone not keen to my sister’s way of uncovering the truth would mistake her questions for friendly small talk. At first it is all filled with safe topics but she is merely building her case; slowly getting to the truth. She knows my visit is not just because I had some time off scheduled.
It has been 6 weeks since that letter appeared in my dreams and nothing has happened since. I am not even sure if I dream anymore. I lay down and the next thing I am aware of is the sound of my alarm clock. The missing dreams were bothering me a lot and soon my irritation and frustration began to bleed into other parts of my life. My work “suggested” I take a vacation for a little while. I decided to take their request as an excuse to see my sister and her daughter. It seemed like the appropriate thing to do. I was uncertain now as I sat under my sister’s penetrating gaze.
“How is Jen? You two are still an item aren’t you?” How had we progressed to this question so quickly? She hadn’t even started off slowly, she had simply started right at the heart of things. There was no pretense of conversation this time, merely an interrogation. I looked at the door my niece had gone through; wishing she was back already. She must have become distracted and forgotten the doll I 'had' to see only moments ago.
“Jen’s…… well, she is good. I think.” I hate questions; especially questions about topics I don’t feel like discussing. I know my answer would trigger the “Let’s not talk about it” switch in men. Unfortunately, my sister, no matter how hard she punches, is female. She will not put this topic on the backburner. I prepare to be needled.
She gives me the “Cut the crap” stare but I decided to remain uncooperative. It isn’t so much that I want to avoid the topic as much as I wish I could visit for a while before I have the “state of your relationship” discussion. My sister would have been great during the Spanish Inquisition. I remember watching her make our parents, grandparents, pastors and her teacher squirm during her very determined questioning. She was the kid whose answer to “Later” was “what does later mean to you?”
“Damn it Shawn! Just answer the question! It’s called communication! I talk and you talk; we both talk! So talk!” She snaps.
“Come on Emily! What is happening here has nothing to do with a conversation. You know just as well as I do that when you ask questions that I have to answer, the conversation is one sided. How about you start with “Hi Shawn. How ya doing?” I say in reply. “I’ll even start. You look nice Emily. Is that a new hairstyle?”
“You suddenly become a female Shawn? Am I not concerned enough with your feelings?” She sneers. “By the way, your butt looks huge in those jeans.”
I can’t help but laugh. I have once again lost our sibling battle of wills. “Thanks for humoring me sis. I was just about to ask about my butt and these jeans. As far as Jen goes, It’s over.” I reestablish my battle for control of the conversation because, technically, I told her what was up with Jen and me.
“Seriously? You are refusing to explain? If I put on a pot of coffee and grab some munchies will you freaking talk?” She is just getting started with her lecture but has also started getting the coffee brewing. “You call me a few days ago to ask if you can come visit and here you are, 3 days later. Every other time you gave me a long waiting time. So I know something is up. I look at my single brother and I know he was dating a girl, so I start there. If it is not her, we will move on to a new topic but it is almost always members of the opposite sex that cause trouble like this. You remember when you told me about this chickadee Jen, right?” I nod at her. “What did I tell you?”
“You told me the girl was all wrong for me. So go ahead and pat yourself on the back.”
“Shut up with the moping! Tell the break up story already!”
“Well you remember a few weeks ago that I called up complaining about hating all of her friends?” She nods and makes the rolling motion with her finger to tell me to keep going. “Well I brought up that her friends always seemed to flake out before the bill arrived. She starts going on about how they felt like I didn’t like them and that I kept choosing places they couldn’t afford. The first place they ditched the bill on was having a '2 dollar you call it' well drink special and the second place, the bowling alley, had 5 dollar pitchers. Not exactly bank breakers and we weren’t even doing rounds at the first place. So they were supposed to pay for the drinks that they had. I explained all this to her and I mention that I would have happily went else where had they sugested it. She started freaking out and yelling at me about how inconsiderate I am and how I don't know what it's like to be low on funds. I want to argue and point out most of my 20's were barely above poverty wages but I bite my tongue. After a while I ended up apologizing; just to get her to shut up. So next thing I know we are going to a place that her friends recommend and feel more comfortable at. It looks like a dive bar but none of the drinks are priced below 6.50, meaning it is more expensive then anywhere I had suggested in the past. Once again the bill comes and we are light. I had a beer for 7bucks and that was it but I end up dropping a hundred bucks.”
“Why?” She interrupts.
“Good question. People kept saying they were paying at the bar as they left and suddenly there is a hundred and fifty dollar bill set in front of me and someone Jen works with. He bought a few drinks but maybe 25 bucks is his. He only has 50 bucks in his wallet so he drops it all. He tells me every time he goes out he pays more then he should but has never seen a bill this high. He is upset but not really because he’s known these people for years and is kind of used to it. He usually gets his own bill but decided not to worry this time. Anyway, I am totally pissed and Jen is wasted. She is up at the bar talking to a friend that just showed up from another bar and I know Jen doesn’t have any money. She never has any money. So I pay the damn thing and I am ready to go home. When I go up to collect her she wants to stay a little longer. I tell her that I am not having a good time and would like to just head home. She turns to me and says “Do whatever you want! I could go home with some other guy if I wanted to!” I look at her for a moment while her friend is trying to get her to apologize wile telling me Jen doesn’t mean it and that she will make sure she gets home safely. While this drunk friend is talking I just turn to the bartender, give her money for a cab for the two of them, tell her friend to cab it and not to drive and then I walk off.”
“What happened the next day?” She asks.
“She called me and was upset that I ditched her at the bar. I told her the real story and she stops blaming me for ditching her and starts complaining that I think her friends are dead beats. I told her ‘You better believe it!’ She got more upset and starts on a tirade how I am an elitist. Finally I told her she could save all her anger for someone else because it was over.”
“Ha! Ok… so when did this happen?”
“About 2 weeks ago. It might have affected my state of mind. I was irritable for quite a while the last month and a half because of Jen. Of course if I had to name a specific issue for why I am on a surprise vacation, I would say it is the monotonous job and the lack of sleep. I haven’t been able to get a full night’s sleep in 6 weeks.”
“Uncle Shawn!” The muffled cry blasts through the door as my niece tries to unlock the 84 locks my paranoid sister has installed on the door. There have been many times I have told her those locks would more likely end lives rather than save them. If they ever needed to get out quickly they wouldn’t be able too. She watches a lot of CSI type shows and that, unfortunately, has shaped her world view. It has gotten to the point that the argument was no longer worth having.
“Gabby! Move away from the door so I can let your uncle in.” My sister’s voice travels through the door almost like she has nothing between us. She has always been loud.
When the door finally opens, a Gabby bolt shoots out of the opening. She wraps herself around me so tightly that someone might thing she is a symbiotic parasite.
“Hi Gabby! How are you?” I ask. She launches into a long litany of things she has done since my last visit. I smile at her, nod at the appropriate places, act surprised and laugh at her train of thought delivery. Her conversation is peppered with a lot of “Guess what?” and an exceedingly liberal amount of ums. Her mother gives me a sympathetic shrug and I wave it off. I like listening to my niece’s oddly tacked together stories. It makes me happy.
She gives me a small break when she runs off to find a new doll she has acquired. That is when my sister’s interrogation starts. Someone not keen to my sister’s way of uncovering the truth would mistake her questions for friendly small talk. At first it is all filled with safe topics but she is merely building her case; slowly getting to the truth. She knows my visit is not just because I had some time off scheduled.
It has been 6 weeks since that letter appeared in my dreams and nothing has happened since. I am not even sure if I dream anymore. I lay down and the next thing I am aware of is the sound of my alarm clock. The missing dreams were bothering me a lot and soon my irritation and frustration began to bleed into other parts of my life. My work “suggested” I take a vacation for a little while. I decided to take their request as an excuse to see my sister and her daughter. It seemed like the appropriate thing to do. I was uncertain now as I sat under my sister’s penetrating gaze.
“How is Jen? You two are still an item aren’t you?” How had we progressed to this question so quickly? She hadn’t even started off slowly, she had simply started right at the heart of things. There was no pretense of conversation this time, merely an interrogation. I looked at the door my niece had gone through; wishing she was back already. She must have become distracted and forgotten the doll I 'had' to see only moments ago.
“Jen’s…… well, she is good. I think.” I hate questions; especially questions about topics I don’t feel like discussing. I know my answer would trigger the “Let’s not talk about it” switch in men. Unfortunately, my sister, no matter how hard she punches, is female. She will not put this topic on the backburner. I prepare to be needled.
She gives me the “Cut the crap” stare but I decided to remain uncooperative. It isn’t so much that I want to avoid the topic as much as I wish I could visit for a while before I have the “state of your relationship” discussion. My sister would have been great during the Spanish Inquisition. I remember watching her make our parents, grandparents, pastors and her teacher squirm during her very determined questioning. She was the kid whose answer to “Later” was “what does later mean to you?”
“Damn it Shawn! Just answer the question! It’s called communication! I talk and you talk; we both talk! So talk!” She snaps.
“Come on Emily! What is happening here has nothing to do with a conversation. You know just as well as I do that when you ask questions that I have to answer, the conversation is one sided. How about you start with “Hi Shawn. How ya doing?” I say in reply. “I’ll even start. You look nice Emily. Is that a new hairstyle?”
“You suddenly become a female Shawn? Am I not concerned enough with your feelings?” She sneers. “By the way, your butt looks huge in those jeans.”
I can’t help but laugh. I have once again lost our sibling battle of wills. “Thanks for humoring me sis. I was just about to ask about my butt and these jeans. As far as Jen goes, It’s over.” I reestablish my battle for control of the conversation because, technically, I told her what was up with Jen and me.
“Seriously? You are refusing to explain? If I put on a pot of coffee and grab some munchies will you freaking talk?” She is just getting started with her lecture but has also started getting the coffee brewing. “You call me a few days ago to ask if you can come visit and here you are, 3 days later. Every other time you gave me a long waiting time. So I know something is up. I look at my single brother and I know he was dating a girl, so I start there. If it is not her, we will move on to a new topic but it is almost always members of the opposite sex that cause trouble like this. You remember when you told me about this chickadee Jen, right?” I nod at her. “What did I tell you?”
“You told me the girl was all wrong for me. So go ahead and pat yourself on the back.”
“Shut up with the moping! Tell the break up story already!”
“Well you remember a few weeks ago that I called up complaining about hating all of her friends?” She nods and makes the rolling motion with her finger to tell me to keep going. “Well I brought up that her friends always seemed to flake out before the bill arrived. She starts going on about how they felt like I didn’t like them and that I kept choosing places they couldn’t afford. The first place they ditched the bill on was having a '2 dollar you call it' well drink special and the second place, the bowling alley, had 5 dollar pitchers. Not exactly bank breakers and we weren’t even doing rounds at the first place. So they were supposed to pay for the drinks that they had. I explained all this to her and I mention that I would have happily went else where had they sugested it. She started freaking out and yelling at me about how inconsiderate I am and how I don't know what it's like to be low on funds. I want to argue and point out most of my 20's were barely above poverty wages but I bite my tongue. After a while I ended up apologizing; just to get her to shut up. So next thing I know we are going to a place that her friends recommend and feel more comfortable at. It looks like a dive bar but none of the drinks are priced below 6.50, meaning it is more expensive then anywhere I had suggested in the past. Once again the bill comes and we are light. I had a beer for 7bucks and that was it but I end up dropping a hundred bucks.”
“Why?” She interrupts.
“Good question. People kept saying they were paying at the bar as they left and suddenly there is a hundred and fifty dollar bill set in front of me and someone Jen works with. He bought a few drinks but maybe 25 bucks is his. He only has 50 bucks in his wallet so he drops it all. He tells me every time he goes out he pays more then he should but has never seen a bill this high. He is upset but not really because he’s known these people for years and is kind of used to it. He usually gets his own bill but decided not to worry this time. Anyway, I am totally pissed and Jen is wasted. She is up at the bar talking to a friend that just showed up from another bar and I know Jen doesn’t have any money. She never has any money. So I pay the damn thing and I am ready to go home. When I go up to collect her she wants to stay a little longer. I tell her that I am not having a good time and would like to just head home. She turns to me and says “Do whatever you want! I could go home with some other guy if I wanted to!” I look at her for a moment while her friend is trying to get her to apologize wile telling me Jen doesn’t mean it and that she will make sure she gets home safely. While this drunk friend is talking I just turn to the bartender, give her money for a cab for the two of them, tell her friend to cab it and not to drive and then I walk off.”
“What happened the next day?” She asks.
“She called me and was upset that I ditched her at the bar. I told her the real story and she stops blaming me for ditching her and starts complaining that I think her friends are dead beats. I told her ‘You better believe it!’ She got more upset and starts on a tirade how I am an elitist. Finally I told her she could save all her anger for someone else because it was over.”
“Ha! Ok… so when did this happen?”
“About 2 weeks ago. It might have affected my state of mind. I was irritable for quite a while the last month and a half because of Jen. Of course if I had to name a specific issue for why I am on a surprise vacation, I would say it is the monotonous job and the lack of sleep. I haven’t been able to get a full night’s sleep in 6 weeks.”
Monday, September 21, 2009
Sho 'nuff!
My friend Betty pointed out that it was time for me to get something new on the blog. She was hoping for more of the dream story but at the moment I am still working on chapter 6. I have been pretty busy with student teaching responsibilities and I have neglected my creative endeavors. The good news is that I have half of chapter 6 written and I am trying o get the second half complete in a manner that moves the story forward in a good way. I am happy to report that I have begun my first Croc comic in over a year. It was neglected for quite a while but I am working on Croc's teaching career. Don't worry.... he will definitely be eating people. I just want you all to know that I am being creative when I get a second to think but most of my seconds are filed with lesson plans, teaching and retarded homework for my university classes. I am working as hard as I can to get another story chapter up here but you will have to be patient. :)
A lot of you have asked questions about my student teaching and I feel that I owe some words to you. My student teaching is taking place in Roseburg, OR. I am working at a school called Hucrest in a 4th and 5th grade blend. Blends are a little crazy because kids need to get certain grade appropriate curriculum. Luckily the teacher I am working with has awesome teaching partners that help him get this done. It does mean a lot of switching for the kids and a lot of the day we don't have our entire homeroom there. We are coping though. I have been teaching 4th grade science since the second week of school. I am responsible for the entire lesson; from knowing what is going on to making sure all the materials are ready. I like working with these kids. They are nice and do a decent job of following directions. I am staying pretty busy making sure I am ready for school with my teaching assignments and lessons.
The university requirements are driving me crazy. That is all I really want to say about it. I do not understand why the state of Oregon requires 2 work samples be done in order to get a teaching certificate. Shouldn't I be more concerned with attaining the teaching experience in a safe environment and less concerned about a huge paper that nobody seems to do anything with? I should go ahead and say that I have a huge issue with busy work. What I have been led to understand is the work samples I am responsible to create do not really change anything. Nobody asks to see them before employing me and the state does not give me feedback on the job I did. Maybe you have no idea what a work sample is..... I should tell you. A work sample starts an an in depth study of the school, community and students I am working with. From there I talk about my plan for teaching, assessments and the lesson I do. Then I give results, of the unit I taught, for the class, a small group and a few specific students. Then I write about why things happened as they did. It is a 100 page P.O.S. that never gets critiqued and does not really get used after the certificate is attained. In fact, the lessons section is a synopsis and not the actual units. I am creating lessons to teach from but I will need to rewrite a narrative of these lesson plans for the paper. I have no problem creating lessons, teaching, and evaluating my progress for my own edification but to put together some polished crap that nobody will pay much attention to kind of makes me want to smack people. Anyone need a good smacking around? I am just saying that these time consuming work samples should be worth something after I get finished. Someone should care about all this work. Otherwise it is one more hoop...
If I could leave the work sample out of the mix I would say that everything is going swimmingly. I like my coordinating teacher and all the teachers I am working with. I like the students. I am enjoying having people to talk to after I get done with my day. I like the chickens and enjoy making up stories about the house bunny. It has not been as terrible to be stuck in Roseburg as I thought it would be. How are you finding yourself? Is your life going well? If not, how can you take steps to change that?
A lot of you have asked questions about my student teaching and I feel that I owe some words to you. My student teaching is taking place in Roseburg, OR. I am working at a school called Hucrest in a 4th and 5th grade blend. Blends are a little crazy because kids need to get certain grade appropriate curriculum. Luckily the teacher I am working with has awesome teaching partners that help him get this done. It does mean a lot of switching for the kids and a lot of the day we don't have our entire homeroom there. We are coping though. I have been teaching 4th grade science since the second week of school. I am responsible for the entire lesson; from knowing what is going on to making sure all the materials are ready. I like working with these kids. They are nice and do a decent job of following directions. I am staying pretty busy making sure I am ready for school with my teaching assignments and lessons.
The university requirements are driving me crazy. That is all I really want to say about it. I do not understand why the state of Oregon requires 2 work samples be done in order to get a teaching certificate. Shouldn't I be more concerned with attaining the teaching experience in a safe environment and less concerned about a huge paper that nobody seems to do anything with? I should go ahead and say that I have a huge issue with busy work. What I have been led to understand is the work samples I am responsible to create do not really change anything. Nobody asks to see them before employing me and the state does not give me feedback on the job I did. Maybe you have no idea what a work sample is..... I should tell you. A work sample starts an an in depth study of the school, community and students I am working with. From there I talk about my plan for teaching, assessments and the lesson I do. Then I give results, of the unit I taught, for the class, a small group and a few specific students. Then I write about why things happened as they did. It is a 100 page P.O.S. that never gets critiqued and does not really get used after the certificate is attained. In fact, the lessons section is a synopsis and not the actual units. I am creating lessons to teach from but I will need to rewrite a narrative of these lesson plans for the paper. I have no problem creating lessons, teaching, and evaluating my progress for my own edification but to put together some polished crap that nobody will pay much attention to kind of makes me want to smack people. Anyone need a good smacking around? I am just saying that these time consuming work samples should be worth something after I get finished. Someone should care about all this work. Otherwise it is one more hoop...
If I could leave the work sample out of the mix I would say that everything is going swimmingly. I like my coordinating teacher and all the teachers I am working with. I like the students. I am enjoying having people to talk to after I get done with my day. I like the chickens and enjoy making up stories about the house bunny. It has not been as terrible to be stuck in Roseburg as I thought it would be. How are you finding yourself? Is your life going well? If not, how can you take steps to change that?
Monday, September 07, 2009
Things I shouldn't say...
Here is a new portion of the blog. If you see this title you will know I am going to say something I wouldn't normally say. I might think it but I would not normally voice it. Here goes!
Last night I popped into a Fred Meyer grocery store to buy some oil for my car and to grab a few snacks for the apartment. As I was walking along, I heard Michael Jackson being played on the store's radio. This was the first time I had ever heard Michael Jackson being pumped throught the speakers of a grocery store. This was new.
That was when I thought, "The best thing that could have happened for Michael Jackson's music was his death."
I am just as tired of hearing about his funeral and death as all of you are. This is not about that. This is about all the "fans" that came out of the woodwork to celebrate his "legacy". He is the top selling artist on iTunes since his death; according to a podcast I listened to called 'Stuff from the B Side'. Some of his albums have sold more copies posthumously then they did when they were new. Did death change how people saw him? Did his death absolve him of the "crimes" that kept these new "fans" from buying his albums while he was alive? Do you become more socially acceptable after your death?
Let's face it... the dude was weird. Now that we have faced it, is his music accetable? I found peace with his weirdness right before I bought his Invincible album. I don't know or care how many surgeries he had. I could care less that he used to hang out with a chimp. I am not even curious who the biological father of his children are. The fact of the matter was and is that I liked his music. I don't have it loaded on my iPod. It is not in regular rotation but when I am reminiscing I like to hear it. I enjoy being surprised by hearing it while I am out. It is not an everyday kind of music for me but it is in my collection.
The reason I found peace and bought a few albums was a chance encounter with some of his songs. I liked them as a child and they make me nostalgic and happy when I hear them now. The thing I had to get over was his molestation cases. What I realised is that I don't know what happened behind closed doors. I will never know. I have made my peace with that... as uneasy as that peace is at times.
I can not wait to see what happens after the backlash, because you know it's coming. The media will take the gloves off eventually. Will all these new Jackson "fans" deny that they ever bought the album?
Last night I popped into a Fred Meyer grocery store to buy some oil for my car and to grab a few snacks for the apartment. As I was walking along, I heard Michael Jackson being played on the store's radio. This was the first time I had ever heard Michael Jackson being pumped throught the speakers of a grocery store. This was new.
That was when I thought, "The best thing that could have happened for Michael Jackson's music was his death."
I am just as tired of hearing about his funeral and death as all of you are. This is not about that. This is about all the "fans" that came out of the woodwork to celebrate his "legacy". He is the top selling artist on iTunes since his death; according to a podcast I listened to called 'Stuff from the B Side'. Some of his albums have sold more copies posthumously then they did when they were new. Did death change how people saw him? Did his death absolve him of the "crimes" that kept these new "fans" from buying his albums while he was alive? Do you become more socially acceptable after your death?
Let's face it... the dude was weird. Now that we have faced it, is his music accetable? I found peace with his weirdness right before I bought his Invincible album. I don't know or care how many surgeries he had. I could care less that he used to hang out with a chimp. I am not even curious who the biological father of his children are. The fact of the matter was and is that I liked his music. I don't have it loaded on my iPod. It is not in regular rotation but when I am reminiscing I like to hear it. I enjoy being surprised by hearing it while I am out. It is not an everyday kind of music for me but it is in my collection.
The reason I found peace and bought a few albums was a chance encounter with some of his songs. I liked them as a child and they make me nostalgic and happy when I hear them now. The thing I had to get over was his molestation cases. What I realised is that I don't know what happened behind closed doors. I will never know. I have made my peace with that... as uneasy as that peace is at times.
I can not wait to see what happens after the backlash, because you know it's coming. The media will take the gloves off eventually. Will all these new Jackson "fans" deny that they ever bought the album?
Sunday, August 30, 2009
Dream Land Part 6
Chapter 5
“There you are. You really do have some screwy dreams! Let’s get going.” The crocodile has a way of talking that was fast and to the point. Usually the point made sense only to him but he definitely had a point. I got off the camel I was sitting on and followed the crocodile. Even as I was doing it I realized how silly it would sound when I wrote about it later.
He had become my guide ever since he bit off my hand and I would almost say we were friends. The thing is that even dream crocodiles are not really suited for friendship. If he was feeling hungry you had to watch out. With that one exception, I realized that I enjoyed his company. He always led the way through my dreams. Searching for Sarah was always on the agenda but I am not sure that the crocodile saw it as a priority. We spent a lot of our time pausing while he ate something that passed by. Usually it was something slightly annoying that he would gobble down. One time a rabbit with a whistle was following us blowing away on the whistle; I kicked it and then he ate it. When I woke up my alarm clock was smashed and I was three hours late to work. I am happy to say that has only happened once.
As I left the camel behind and followed him, I thought I saw something familiar enter my peripheral vision. It was a face amidst a rainforest landscape but when I turned to get a better look, it disappeared. I stood there for a while staring out into the forest. When I turned around the crocodile was eating a monkey that looked suspiciously like the animated Curious George monkey. I blinked my eyes and the crocodile was gone. To be truthful so was everything else…. I was in that same white space I had lost Sarah in. The couch faded in through the white. Perhaps extruded would be a better term as it seemed to plop through like a Twinkie from the Twinkie extruding machine. Sitting there on the couch, delicately perched on the seat cushion, was a letter. I stared at it but did not move towards it. I was not really sure that I wanted to open it, but even from across the room I saw it was addressed to me. Instead of walking towards it, I sat down on the ground and waited. I needed time.
“Well aren’t you going to open it?” I turned toward the voice and saw the crocodile. I was a little puzzled as to when he had come into the white space but I let that thought trail away. He was eating again. This time he had a napkin tied around his neck and he had a bucket of fried chicken in his lap. I shrugged at him in response. “So what is your whiny reason this time?”
“This time?” I asked, confused by the addition of these words. Had we done this before?
“Yeah.... This time! When I first met you there was a letter. You refused to acknowledge it even after I put it in your hand. You kept talking to me about my eating habits I was feeling a little frustrated so I bit off your hand; the one holding the letter. Then all you could do was whine about your missing hand.” He shook half of the bucket of chicken into his mouth.
I turned to look at the envelope again but it wasn’t there. “Hey… uh… where…”
“I put it in your hand again.” The crocodile interrupted, predicting my question. I looked down at my hand and saw he was right. I looked at the lettering of my name on the envelope; it was not Sarah’s writing. I was not sure how I knew this but I did. I slid a finger along the lip and opened the envelope. The letter itself was a light blue shade with a hand written script in darker blue. I had a hard time deciphering the signature at the bottom and decided I had to read the letter to have a chance of figuring out who sent it.
I reread the letter twice. I can’t remember his name or read through the blurred writing. Meaning that I still have no idea what name I should have in my head to search with. A lot of searching in dreams is done through names. Faces, bodies and species are subject to change. The name doesn’t, it sticks with the wearer of the name. I star to think about reasons why he might be looking for me and wonder about what he meant when he said the dream world was no longer safe. A distressing idea occurs to me idea, that someone has changed the rules of my dreams on me. I turn to ask the crocodile for his advice but my alarm goes off instead.
“There you are. You really do have some screwy dreams! Let’s get going.” The crocodile has a way of talking that was fast and to the point. Usually the point made sense only to him but he definitely had a point. I got off the camel I was sitting on and followed the crocodile. Even as I was doing it I realized how silly it would sound when I wrote about it later.
He had become my guide ever since he bit off my hand and I would almost say we were friends. The thing is that even dream crocodiles are not really suited for friendship. If he was feeling hungry you had to watch out. With that one exception, I realized that I enjoyed his company. He always led the way through my dreams. Searching for Sarah was always on the agenda but I am not sure that the crocodile saw it as a priority. We spent a lot of our time pausing while he ate something that passed by. Usually it was something slightly annoying that he would gobble down. One time a rabbit with a whistle was following us blowing away on the whistle; I kicked it and then he ate it. When I woke up my alarm clock was smashed and I was three hours late to work. I am happy to say that has only happened once.
As I left the camel behind and followed him, I thought I saw something familiar enter my peripheral vision. It was a face amidst a rainforest landscape but when I turned to get a better look, it disappeared. I stood there for a while staring out into the forest. When I turned around the crocodile was eating a monkey that looked suspiciously like the animated Curious George monkey. I blinked my eyes and the crocodile was gone. To be truthful so was everything else…. I was in that same white space I had lost Sarah in. The couch faded in through the white. Perhaps extruded would be a better term as it seemed to plop through like a Twinkie from the Twinkie extruding machine. Sitting there on the couch, delicately perched on the seat cushion, was a letter. I stared at it but did not move towards it. I was not really sure that I wanted to open it, but even from across the room I saw it was addressed to me. Instead of walking towards it, I sat down on the ground and waited. I needed time.
“Well aren’t you going to open it?” I turned toward the voice and saw the crocodile. I was a little puzzled as to when he had come into the white space but I let that thought trail away. He was eating again. This time he had a napkin tied around his neck and he had a bucket of fried chicken in his lap. I shrugged at him in response. “So what is your whiny reason this time?”
“This time?” I asked, confused by the addition of these words. Had we done this before?
“Yeah.... This time! When I first met you there was a letter. You refused to acknowledge it even after I put it in your hand. You kept talking to me about my eating habits I was feeling a little frustrated so I bit off your hand; the one holding the letter. Then all you could do was whine about your missing hand.” He shook half of the bucket of chicken into his mouth.
I turned to look at the envelope again but it wasn’t there. “Hey… uh… where…”
“I put it in your hand again.” The crocodile interrupted, predicting my question. I looked down at my hand and saw he was right. I looked at the lettering of my name on the envelope; it was not Sarah’s writing. I was not sure how I knew this but I did. I slid a finger along the lip and opened the envelope. The letter itself was a light blue shade with a hand written script in darker blue. I had a hard time deciphering the signature at the bottom and decided I had to read the letter to have a chance of figuring out who sent it.
Shawn,
I am not sure what is happening between you and Sarah. She has not been herself these last few weeks. Has it really been weeks?
Where are you? I can never find you to talk and we need to. I have never been given a name verbally in your dreams but I do have one. My name is (the name is smeared as if he decided not to reveal it). You will know me as Sarah’s friend and your best friend in this dream realm. I have been a director, a tour guide, a pick axe wielding dwarf and scores of other people. I am always there and I usually help you get together with Sarah. I am always the first to find you which is why it is so weird that I can’t find you now.
I think we may be in trouble here. Your dream world has been chaotic since you and Sarah had that talk. It is not safe for me to spend much time there. Something keeps interfering with any attempt of contact I have made. The one exception was the last letter but I know you never read it. I am headed to find someone who might be able to help me find you and fix this strange degradation of your dreams. If you see a letter in the future make sure you notice it sooner.
Your friend,
(The scribble is undecipherable)
I reread the letter twice. I can’t remember his name or read through the blurred writing. Meaning that I still have no idea what name I should have in my head to search with. A lot of searching in dreams is done through names. Faces, bodies and species are subject to change. The name doesn’t, it sticks with the wearer of the name. I star to think about reasons why he might be looking for me and wonder about what he meant when he said the dream world was no longer safe. A distressing idea occurs to me idea, that someone has changed the rules of my dreams on me. I turn to ask the crocodile for his advice but my alarm goes off instead.
Thursday, August 20, 2009
My Dream Life part 5 (The crocodile guide)
Chapter 4
My dreams have been mundane and ordinarily random the last few weeks. In the most recent one a cigar toting alligator paused in front of me to ask for a light and before I know it he and I are wandering through convoluted adventures. I didn’t catch a trace of Sarah anywhere we went. She is no longer there to be found.
My real life has been chugging along just fine. Jen and I are still together and she has even introduced me to her friends. Something I wish hadn’t happened because in truth her friends are terrible. Which is not something you can say to the girl you are dating; even if it is the truth. I guess I should give an example. The first time I met her best friend Ally and her boyfriend Ben we went out for dinner. It was a place that I have always loved and the little Asian family that owns it are proud of the establishment. The food is good and they are always happy to see me. Everyone who has ever been there with me has thought it was a great place. It is small and not fancy but between the pride of the owners and the quality of the food it is a pleasant eating experience. Except for that night; all her friends could do was ridicule and complain about everything. At one point Ally thought it would be fun to mimic the accent. I have never considered myself P.C. but I was mortified and wanted to stop her in the eye with a chopstick. I was absolutely offended by their behavior and felt the need to apologize profusely for a week afterwards. Which meant that I went to their restaurant for lunch and ate for 7 days; between bites of food I apologized. It was the most pleasant apology experience I have ever had. They were still happy to see me every time but I think in all honesty they were happy I came alone.
Jen apologized to me and claimed it was the pre-dinner drinks that had caused the behavior I had been scandalized by. I decided to take her word for it because Jen seems relatively sane. After last night’s bowling event I am having my doubts about her ability to judge a person’s character. There were a group of ten of us; evenly divided between her friends and mine. It started out a little awkwardly but a few pitchers later everything seems amicable. Until I noticed that they had failed to chip in on any of the pitchers but were drinking most of the beer. I am all for buying pitchers and allowing people to drink with me and even get the extras beer or two on me but I need them to pitch in as well. It is an unwritten rule of hanging out as a group; everyone takes a turn buying a pitcher. My side of the bowling group had all bought a pitcher at some point and we suddenly had run dry. So I asked “Whose turn is it to get a pitcher?” The only response was silence and I felt like I needed to say something. My sarcastic friend Mike, knowing I was already on edge about Jen’s friends, decided to just buy the next pitcher and stop me from saying anything. Which, in reality, has only delayed the inevitable. I could feel my irritation building and knew I needed to call it a night and as the beer was passed around I declined.
I kissed Jen on the cheek at the last frame, made some excuse about a meeting early in the morning and took off; followed closely by my friends. We ended up back at my place and everyone discussed what had happened. Nobody had left with a very good impression of her friends and only I was the one irritated by the pitcher situation. Mike’s wife had not been comfortable with how Ally had spoken to the kid working behind the bowling counter. Mike had not liked little side comments said into his back as he went up to bowl. Steve had been irritated by the general conduct of her friends and his wife Susan could only say “I didn’t like them but not for any concrete reason.” Susan likes everybody and her admitting she did not like someone is kind of unheard of. If she were ever carjacked she would still not be able say that the guy was a jackass. Something was wrong with Jen’s friends and I was less sure of who Jen was.
When I had calmed down and everyone had left I tried to sleep. I wanted to find Sarah and talk to her. I wanted her to be there by my side in the dream. She always had good insights and could get at what the real problem was that I was facing. She would listen and when I was done she would point out things I had not paid attention to that were important clues. Then she would ask me questions that got to the heart of the matter and helped me figure out what to do. Of course I wanted her by my side for more than just her insight. It occurred to me as I lay there that asking Sarah about Jen’s friends did not seem right somehow. Then I just started thinking about her. I wondered if she still wore her engagement ring. I wondered if she ever smiled when she thought of me. I also wondered if she had manifested in someone else’s dreams.
That was when the dream started; the one with the crocodile. He told me to stop looking and to work on getting my head in order. He said “No one wants someone who is afraid to go after what he wants. You should have stopped her before she left. If you really loved her you would have.” His advice continued as I followed him through confusing dreamscapes. He told me that what is going to happen will and my job was to be ready. Then he bit off my hand. For some odd reason I still followed him around like we were friends.
My dreams have been mundane and ordinarily random the last few weeks. In the most recent one a cigar toting alligator paused in front of me to ask for a light and before I know it he and I are wandering through convoluted adventures. I didn’t catch a trace of Sarah anywhere we went. She is no longer there to be found.
My real life has been chugging along just fine. Jen and I are still together and she has even introduced me to her friends. Something I wish hadn’t happened because in truth her friends are terrible. Which is not something you can say to the girl you are dating; even if it is the truth. I guess I should give an example. The first time I met her best friend Ally and her boyfriend Ben we went out for dinner. It was a place that I have always loved and the little Asian family that owns it are proud of the establishment. The food is good and they are always happy to see me. Everyone who has ever been there with me has thought it was a great place. It is small and not fancy but between the pride of the owners and the quality of the food it is a pleasant eating experience. Except for that night; all her friends could do was ridicule and complain about everything. At one point Ally thought it would be fun to mimic the accent. I have never considered myself P.C. but I was mortified and wanted to stop her in the eye with a chopstick. I was absolutely offended by their behavior and felt the need to apologize profusely for a week afterwards. Which meant that I went to their restaurant for lunch and ate for 7 days; between bites of food I apologized. It was the most pleasant apology experience I have ever had. They were still happy to see me every time but I think in all honesty they were happy I came alone.
Jen apologized to me and claimed it was the pre-dinner drinks that had caused the behavior I had been scandalized by. I decided to take her word for it because Jen seems relatively sane. After last night’s bowling event I am having my doubts about her ability to judge a person’s character. There were a group of ten of us; evenly divided between her friends and mine. It started out a little awkwardly but a few pitchers later everything seems amicable. Until I noticed that they had failed to chip in on any of the pitchers but were drinking most of the beer. I am all for buying pitchers and allowing people to drink with me and even get the extras beer or two on me but I need them to pitch in as well. It is an unwritten rule of hanging out as a group; everyone takes a turn buying a pitcher. My side of the bowling group had all bought a pitcher at some point and we suddenly had run dry. So I asked “Whose turn is it to get a pitcher?” The only response was silence and I felt like I needed to say something. My sarcastic friend Mike, knowing I was already on edge about Jen’s friends, decided to just buy the next pitcher and stop me from saying anything. Which, in reality, has only delayed the inevitable. I could feel my irritation building and knew I needed to call it a night and as the beer was passed around I declined.
I kissed Jen on the cheek at the last frame, made some excuse about a meeting early in the morning and took off; followed closely by my friends. We ended up back at my place and everyone discussed what had happened. Nobody had left with a very good impression of her friends and only I was the one irritated by the pitcher situation. Mike’s wife had not been comfortable with how Ally had spoken to the kid working behind the bowling counter. Mike had not liked little side comments said into his back as he went up to bowl. Steve had been irritated by the general conduct of her friends and his wife Susan could only say “I didn’t like them but not for any concrete reason.” Susan likes everybody and her admitting she did not like someone is kind of unheard of. If she were ever carjacked she would still not be able say that the guy was a jackass. Something was wrong with Jen’s friends and I was less sure of who Jen was.
When I had calmed down and everyone had left I tried to sleep. I wanted to find Sarah and talk to her. I wanted her to be there by my side in the dream. She always had good insights and could get at what the real problem was that I was facing. She would listen and when I was done she would point out things I had not paid attention to that were important clues. Then she would ask me questions that got to the heart of the matter and helped me figure out what to do. Of course I wanted her by my side for more than just her insight. It occurred to me as I lay there that asking Sarah about Jen’s friends did not seem right somehow. Then I just started thinking about her. I wondered if she still wore her engagement ring. I wondered if she ever smiled when she thought of me. I also wondered if she had manifested in someone else’s dreams.
That was when the dream started; the one with the crocodile. He told me to stop looking and to work on getting my head in order. He said “No one wants someone who is afraid to go after what he wants. You should have stopped her before she left. If you really loved her you would have.” His advice continued as I followed him through confusing dreamscapes. He told me that what is going to happen will and my job was to be ready. Then he bit off my hand. For some odd reason I still followed him around like we were friends.
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