Tuesday, September 2, 2008
First Day of School
For the first time in twelve years I find myself somewhat idle today, the first Tuesday of September. Rather than going to school, I think I'll lounge around. (Actually, I'm going to be doing construction work with Dickie today.) But to all my teacher friends and families who have kids at school, I am thinking about you today, and here I am toasting you as I have a mimosa with my breakfast. (Not really. I'm not that good with a hammer anyway...)
Friday, August 29, 2008
@#%$^*!!!!!!!
Outward Bound just called to tell me that my Costa Rica sea-kayaking trip in March has been cancelled. Would have been nice if they called me two days ago, BEFORE I booked all my plane tickets!
Luckily, the fates were smiling upon me, and I only booked through New Zealand/Los Angeles-- via Fiji-- because I was going to put the Costa Rica trip on my miles. But all the dates are organized around the expectation that I had to be in Costa Rica on March 1. Guess I can change those tickets, and spend more time at Party Cove in Fiji!
Back to the drawing board for the spring...
Luckily, the fates were smiling upon me, and I only booked through New Zealand/Los Angeles-- via Fiji-- because I was going to put the Costa Rica trip on my miles. But all the dates are organized around the expectation that I had to be in Costa Rica on March 1. Guess I can change those tickets, and spend more time at Party Cove in Fiji!
Back to the drawing board for the spring...
Wednesday, August 27, 2008
Bodes ill...
Do you think it is a bad sign that when I just tried to call the travel agent to book my ticket, I must have misdialed, because I got a message saying "To talk to exciting local ladies, call..."?
Tuesday, August 26, 2008
Today
My mother left for St. Louis this morning with a relatively tearful goodbye. She is not at all sure about this whole Gap Year thing. I ran a bunch of errands with dad (first stop Good Will, as mom is no longer here to see what I am getting rid of!), then, as it was a gorgeous day, I took my brother's rotund dogs for a forced march up to the headlands.
When I got there and saw the amazing blue ocean, as I walked back past a field with a hundred dragonflies soaring above it, as I passed the kids getting off the school bus after their first day of school, I thought, "This. Here. Today.
This is why I am taking a gap year."
Lest you think my day was all poignancy, let me include a picture from later in the day. I saw this as I rode up the seacoast. It is not just that three teenage girls chose to set out a towel in the middle of a parking lot, it's that about 20 meters to their left is a beach.
Thursday, August 21, 2008
Work Week
I have been staying with college friends in up-up-upstate NY for the past week, for what Conrad lovingly calls "work week". (I come up and we do whatever projects he has lined up.) This year I have learned how to install windows, drywall, and shingles. But I have learned some other important life lessons. They are as follows:
1. There is no such thing as a "small" home improvement project. Please refer to the picture to see what happened when I was summoned to help with a little repainting.
2. It is not a good idea to smack yourself in the face with a crowbar. Luckily Conrad decided to learn this first-hand, and I just got the secondary learning. (Point well made, though. The demonstration really helped.)
3. When there is only one cookie left in the cookie jar, it apparently is NOT up for grabs. Somehow children take precedence over guests. If only I had know that for the last 35 years at my house!
1. There is no such thing as a "small" home improvement project. Please refer to the picture to see what happened when I was summoned to help with a little repainting.
2. It is not a good idea to smack yourself in the face with a crowbar. Luckily Conrad decided to learn this first-hand, and I just got the secondary learning. (Point well made, though. The demonstration really helped.)
3. When there is only one cookie left in the cookie jar, it apparently is NOT up for grabs. Somehow children take precedence over guests. If only I had know that for the last 35 years at my house!
Friday, August 15, 2008
Dry Run
As I was going to be on the road visiting friends in Boston and upstate New York for 10 days, I thought it would be a good idea to give my packing a dry run. (Translation: I need to practice getting all the damn straps to connect to the right buckles!) So I laid out the clothes I plan to take with me for next year (minus the full length black gown for the Met, of course), surveyed them (not too bad, although I wish I had some more exciting, non-‘cotton kills’ shirts), and shoved them into the backpack. I also shoved in a down pillow, as I’m kind of persnickety (yes me, persnickety… hard to believe) about my pillows. I decided not to go whole hog on this trip and pack things like the binoculars and water purifier. (I figured that the water in Ithaca is probably okay… although some of those Cornell grads are a bit iffy.) I’ll save that packing fun for later.
Everything was going well and I was feeling pretty good until I got to the sorting and packing of my toiletries kit. I pulled all of my products from the various places I had them stashed: my shelf in the bathroom, the top shelf in the bathroom, the closet, the ziplock bag which contained random bits from school. Now, those of you who know me well know a couple of things about me: 1) I don’t do my hair. Doing my hair involves combing it, and maybe putting in an elastic. That’s it. 2) I don’t wear make-up. Not even on dates (if I can remember back that far!). The only time I wear make-up is if I’m going to the opera or symphony, and then only if I’m in the mood. And when I do, it is a little mascara and eyeliner, and that’s it. 3) I don’t believe in excessive hygiene. I’m definitely not an every day kind of showerer. Or every other day. Or every third day in the winter when it is cold. I don’t get that dirty, and I am more offended by synthetic, flowery smells (scented candles!!!) than normal human scents (some of you may refer to this as body odor, but whatever). (Hmmmm, there was the year that the majority of the teacher gifts I got at Christmas were scented candles and soap. Maybe that year I only bathed every couple of weeks…)
Given this, I was appalled to see how much stuff I had in the toiletries department! How in the world could this be? I started to have a little panic attack. Now that I have some distance from that moment, I am thinking that it is less that I am a narcissistic preener (narcissistic, yes; preener, no), and more that my own personal brand of OCD (obsessive compulsive disorder, for those of you who don’t have children, students, siblings or spouses affected with this) manifests itself in not being able to throw away a bottle of anything until it is absolutely finished. (The liquor cupboard at home drives me nuts, and makes me wish I drank more, just so I could finish off those blasted three bottles of Crème de Menthe. Where do they come from???) So I have about five bottles/tubes/tins of lotion that various people left or gave me over the years. Ditto on shampoo. (When my hair was really short, I didn’t buy shampoo for about two years, because I just finished off other people’s bottles. Plus, as I stated above, I only washed my hair a couple times a week.)
Clearly I don’t need to practice how to get my backpack clicked, but rather I should spend my time bathing thrice a day for the next month, so I can use up all the little bottles and have a clean slate (and ridiculously clean body). Then I will have space in my sack for more important things… like cute little bottles of Crème de Cacao.
Everything was going well and I was feeling pretty good until I got to the sorting and packing of my toiletries kit. I pulled all of my products from the various places I had them stashed: my shelf in the bathroom, the top shelf in the bathroom, the closet, the ziplock bag which contained random bits from school. Now, those of you who know me well know a couple of things about me: 1) I don’t do my hair. Doing my hair involves combing it, and maybe putting in an elastic. That’s it. 2) I don’t wear make-up. Not even on dates (if I can remember back that far!). The only time I wear make-up is if I’m going to the opera or symphony, and then only if I’m in the mood. And when I do, it is a little mascara and eyeliner, and that’s it. 3) I don’t believe in excessive hygiene. I’m definitely not an every day kind of showerer. Or every other day. Or every third day in the winter when it is cold. I don’t get that dirty, and I am more offended by synthetic, flowery smells (scented candles!!!) than normal human scents (some of you may refer to this as body odor, but whatever). (Hmmmm, there was the year that the majority of the teacher gifts I got at Christmas were scented candles and soap. Maybe that year I only bathed every couple of weeks…)
Given this, I was appalled to see how much stuff I had in the toiletries department! How in the world could this be? I started to have a little panic attack. Now that I have some distance from that moment, I am thinking that it is less that I am a narcissistic preener (narcissistic, yes; preener, no), and more that my own personal brand of OCD (obsessive compulsive disorder, for those of you who don’t have children, students, siblings or spouses affected with this) manifests itself in not being able to throw away a bottle of anything until it is absolutely finished. (The liquor cupboard at home drives me nuts, and makes me wish I drank more, just so I could finish off those blasted three bottles of Crème de Menthe. Where do they come from???) So I have about five bottles/tubes/tins of lotion that various people left or gave me over the years. Ditto on shampoo. (When my hair was really short, I didn’t buy shampoo for about two years, because I just finished off other people’s bottles. Plus, as I stated above, I only washed my hair a couple times a week.)
Clearly I don’t need to practice how to get my backpack clicked, but rather I should spend my time bathing thrice a day for the next month, so I can use up all the little bottles and have a clean slate (and ridiculously clean body). Then I will have space in my sack for more important things… like cute little bottles of Crème de Cacao.
Thursday, July 31, 2008
The Dread of August
Everyone knows about (and is, quite rightly, jealous of) a teacher’s summer vacation. Eight uninterrupted weeks in which to do whatever we choose. Some people travel to new places and see new things; some travel to familiar places and see old friends and family; some stay home and work on their house or read lots of books; some have other jobs and other lives (I worked on an organic farm in New Hampshire for 13 summers); some (I like to call them “overachievers”) read school-related books and think about the year to come. But all of us have eight weeks of a slower pace, waking up each morning wondering what to do that day, and lots and lots of “me” time.
What you may not be aware of, however, is the dread of August. When you turn the calendar from July to August, something happens, and it isn’t good. In June, you have the whole summer ahead of you. In July you are well into whatever you are doing. But August… poor August. August means that it’s all over. You have only two weeks left. You have to start thinking soon, getting back to a schedule soon, wearing respectable clothes soon. The advent of August affects people differently. Some get moody and grumpy, others depressed. For me it is the anxiety dream. Like clockwork, on August 1st I begin to have anxiety dreams about school. For many years the dreams focused on classroom management. Holy terrors would take over my class and wreak havoc. But once I got classroom management under control in my real world, it was no longer a source of anxiety for me, so no longer a focus of my dreams. No, the dreams turned to the one thing that I truly had no control over: my classroom when I wasn’t there. I don’t mean the kids, I mean the room itself. My dreams usually had me returning from break or a weekend, and finding that Camp or Extended Day had destroyed my room (in reality, they are MUCH better now than they were when I first started to work there). One time I dreamed that my teammates had all come in over the weekend (true), redesigned our entire curriculum (possible), and reorganized my room (they wouldn’t DARE!).
Last night, a day ahead of schedule, I had my first anxiety dream. I dreamed that I came in one morning to find that the risers in my room had been removed. In reality my classroom had no desks, rather tables and chairs scattered about, a rug in front of the chalkboard, and the risers with my chair and white board in front of it. The risers were where I did all of my teaching, where the kids would start and end their day, where they would go when they finished a task. They were the source of calm and structure in my room. They were where I could easily control my class. And in my dream they were suddenly gone (as were all of my teammates’ risers as well). Some sweeping decision had obviously been made, and the maintenance guy had removed my risers. In my dream I was getting ready to abandon my class (all of two kids… not sure where the rest of the troops were ) so I could storm down to my boss’s office and raise holy hell.
At that point I woke up, heart pounding and quite agitated. It took me a moment to realize that that dream was totally out of place. I don’t have to worry about August 1st, because this year time doesn’t really have the same meaning. I am taking a break from teaching, gave up that room, turned in my keys to the school (well, not really, but everybody and their grandmother has keys to that school!). I am on my Gap Year, which is a whole year of a slower pace and “me” time.
The dreams I should be having, and without a doubt will appear, will involve missing flights, lost luggage, not being able to find a place to stay or something to eat. Next year I will have to let myself be at the mercy of strangers, and let myself be okay with just going with the flow. I will have to relinquish the control I have over much of my life and what happens to me on a day-to-day basis.
In thinking about it, maybe that dream wasn’t so out of place. It was about losing the source of control that I have. Maybe it was just trying to get me ready to let go of the structure, the organization, the control next year. That will surely be the toughest thing for me in my travels. I’d like to say I’m ready for it, but my dreams may be telling me otherwise. Perhaps I should carry around a teacher plan book (blank, of course) to at least appear to have some semblance of control over what happens each day.
As it is still July, though, I need to get to the tough job of deciding what I will do with the blank slate that is today.
What you may not be aware of, however, is the dread of August. When you turn the calendar from July to August, something happens, and it isn’t good. In June, you have the whole summer ahead of you. In July you are well into whatever you are doing. But August… poor August. August means that it’s all over. You have only two weeks left. You have to start thinking soon, getting back to a schedule soon, wearing respectable clothes soon. The advent of August affects people differently. Some get moody and grumpy, others depressed. For me it is the anxiety dream. Like clockwork, on August 1st I begin to have anxiety dreams about school. For many years the dreams focused on classroom management. Holy terrors would take over my class and wreak havoc. But once I got classroom management under control in my real world, it was no longer a source of anxiety for me, so no longer a focus of my dreams. No, the dreams turned to the one thing that I truly had no control over: my classroom when I wasn’t there. I don’t mean the kids, I mean the room itself. My dreams usually had me returning from break or a weekend, and finding that Camp or Extended Day had destroyed my room (in reality, they are MUCH better now than they were when I first started to work there). One time I dreamed that my teammates had all come in over the weekend (true), redesigned our entire curriculum (possible), and reorganized my room (they wouldn’t DARE!).
Last night, a day ahead of schedule, I had my first anxiety dream. I dreamed that I came in one morning to find that the risers in my room had been removed. In reality my classroom had no desks, rather tables and chairs scattered about, a rug in front of the chalkboard, and the risers with my chair and white board in front of it. The risers were where I did all of my teaching, where the kids would start and end their day, where they would go when they finished a task. They were the source of calm and structure in my room. They were where I could easily control my class. And in my dream they were suddenly gone (as were all of my teammates’ risers as well). Some sweeping decision had obviously been made, and the maintenance guy had removed my risers. In my dream I was getting ready to abandon my class (all of two kids… not sure where the rest of the troops were ) so I could storm down to my boss’s office and raise holy hell.
At that point I woke up, heart pounding and quite agitated. It took me a moment to realize that that dream was totally out of place. I don’t have to worry about August 1st, because this year time doesn’t really have the same meaning. I am taking a break from teaching, gave up that room, turned in my keys to the school (well, not really, but everybody and their grandmother has keys to that school!). I am on my Gap Year, which is a whole year of a slower pace and “me” time.
The dreams I should be having, and without a doubt will appear, will involve missing flights, lost luggage, not being able to find a place to stay or something to eat. Next year I will have to let myself be at the mercy of strangers, and let myself be okay with just going with the flow. I will have to relinquish the control I have over much of my life and what happens to me on a day-to-day basis.
In thinking about it, maybe that dream wasn’t so out of place. It was about losing the source of control that I have. Maybe it was just trying to get me ready to let go of the structure, the organization, the control next year. That will surely be the toughest thing for me in my travels. I’d like to say I’m ready for it, but my dreams may be telling me otherwise. Perhaps I should carry around a teacher plan book (blank, of course) to at least appear to have some semblance of control over what happens each day.
As it is still July, though, I need to get to the tough job of deciding what I will do with the blank slate that is today.
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